It's sleepless nights, asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing

“After all, what is happiness? Love, they tell me. But love doesn't bring and never has brought happiness. On the contrary, it's a constant state of anxiety, a battlefield; it's sleepless nights, asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing. Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony.”
― Paulo Coelho

 

 

Okay, Paulo.  I read your book The Alchemist and it has lots of nice nuggets of wisdom it in.  Nothing about it wowed me, but everyone else seems to like it and the critics think you're pretty ingenious.  So I read your thoughts on happiness, Paulo, and I feel pretty much the same way--a combination of, "Yes, Paulo, I do believe you are right" with a touch of "But I'm not sure that you really have it as figured out as you think you do."

 

And isn't that the case with all of us.

 

I come upon your quotation tonight, Paulo, with a heart heavily weighing my decision to take my son to the doctor in the morning to have him medicated.  This is an idea I have struggled with for many years, and a path that I have longed to avoid.  After all, hasn't yoga replaced my own need for anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds, and sleeping pills?  Haven't I come to understand peace through meditation?  Through new friends and growing relationships?  Though learning that I have the ability to pick myself up, dust myself off, and face another day--even if it has to be on my own?

 

Then again, Paulo, there are those old habits that don't die hard.  There's the sugar.  And then there's the bottle of Jose Cuervo sitting up there on the shelf--the one I've had for six months, the one that I don't open often, just tempting me to mix it up with some limones y limas y azucar and find felicidad at the bottom of a glass.  I think that's called self-medicating.  I think maybe I haven't come as far as I think I have; but the difference between then and now is that this time I won't beat myself up over it.

 

So back to my son, because certainly this is not about me.  Is it?  I am not completely certain.  On the one hand, I think, "Wow, I am a shitty mom" (all about me).  I could work more with him at home, teach the boy more about breathing exercises and help him practice more yoga, make more visual aides and daily schedules and scrape up the money for more therapy, OT, SLP, ABA, all the alphabet soup.  I could have found a way to send him to that autism program at St. Adlebert School this year--I could have found a way to get him to school in Berea even though I live and work in opposite directions--I could have done that if I would have just tried harder, right? 

 

On the other had, this isn't about me.  It's about my son.  Am I medicating him so that my life will be easier, or am I medicating him so that his life will be more peaceful and productive?

 

Listen, Paulo.  I can't friggin' do everything.  I am not superwoman.  I can't even get a decent dinner on the table half the time anymore.  One would think that tacos and grilled cheese would eventually get old with the kids, but thank God they don't.  And I have to work.  Someone has to pay the mortgage.  And I have to clean the house sometimes, too.  I don't have time to worry about everything I have to worry about.

 

I think maybe you're right. Maybe love is just a constant state of anxiety, worrying, will my son's growing anxiety and aggression land him in jail one day?  Will he ever be able to hold a job?  Will be even graduate high school?  Will he live in my basement for the rest of his life? 

 

Am I too soft on him?  Do I give him too much power?  Do I not empower him enough?  Do I allow him to control me?  Do I try too hard to control him?  Do I yell at him too much?  Do I make things better or worse?  Does he know that I just want him to be, you know, "normal"?  Do I want him to be "normal"? 

 

You're right, Paulo.  Sometimes it's agony.  I have spent many a day and night wondering why I am such a shitty mom for this child.  Why on earth would his soul choose me?  What can I really do for him except stand by feeling helpless?  And what is he supposed to be teaching me?

 

But the ecstasy... when he gets out of the car in the morning during school drop off an tells me he loves me... when he hugs me good night... when he rambles on with his scientific trivia about jellyfish that asexually reproduce and how the rapid cell reproduction caused by animal growth hormones could give humans cancer if they eat meat... when he sleepwalks into my bedroom and snuggles up beside me... when he is the center of my entire universe, which is really pretty much always....

 

How can I medicate a child who has his passion?  How can I not medicate a child who has his passion?

 

I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, Paulo.  And I am tired of fighting these endless battles.  So medication it is. 

 



To My Son

Dear Son,

Always make a big deal of her birthday, your wedding anniversary, and every holiday on the calendar up to and including Valentine’s Day.  She needs to know that these days are special to you, too. And yes, she wanted a present; don't be an idiot.  And don't tell her to go pick one out for herself.

Always go to bed at the same time as she does.

With that said, not every touch needs to be sexual.  In fact, if every time she touches you you expect it to turn into something sexual, you run the risk that she will stop touching you.  Sometimes a woman just wants to sit close to you on the couch. 

No matter how strong she is, she will eventually break.  When that time comes, your job is to hold her and tell her everything is going to work out even if you are scared to death that it isn’t. Because sometimes it just isn’t about you.  In fact, a lot of times it just isn't about you.  Check your ego. 

Always acknowledge that you hear her.  Let me repeat that:  Always acknowledge that you hear her.

Your time is not more important than her time.  Ever.

If she likes to dance, take her dancing.  I don't care if you don't like to dance.  You should have thought about that before you married her.

You didn't "do the laundry for her" and you don't need to point out every time you run the dishwasher.  Those are your chores, too.  Just do them and shut up about it.  Yes, she notices.  The reason she isn't impressed is because it's not 1950 anymore; you're just expected to do these things now.

Eat what she cooks even if you don’t like it.  She worked her ass off to get that dinner in front of you.  I don't care how weird it looks or how different it is than the cooking you grew up with.  (That said, your mother is a pretty damn good cook.)

There’s no one you need to impress.  If she is no longer impressed, maybe you were trying too hard to be impressive.

BE TRUTH.  BE YOU.  Never lie or cover anything up, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem.  If you do, she will never fully trust you again no matter what you do to try to make up for it.  And if she doesn't like your truth, then find someone who does.

It is my job to be your mother; it is her job to be your wife.  Be her partner, not her child. (Side note: If you're smart, you will always take her side when I am pissed at her; I guarantee that I will be pissed at her eventually. I promise to remember that I said this.)

Always be kind, even when you are angry.  Consciously choosing to use hurtful words--or to engage in hurtful actions--will only create wounds in the relationship that will never fully heal.  And saying you're sorry later isn't a panacea for deliberate cruelty.  Anger and violence are never the answer.  For anything.

Your relationships with your family will be affected deeply by any existential crisis you have about your own identity, your social status, and your place in this world in general.  Remembering that you are part of a greater whole and that all of your thoughts and actions will have ripple effects on your relationships will help keep your existential crisis from becoming the wrecking ball that sends her packing.  If you're in this together and not just for yourself, you will have much greater success.  And "being in this together" doesn't mean she supports all of your needs while you "find yourself"; it means you are in it TOGETHER.

Listen.

Breathe.

Be present--not just in body, but in mind and spirit as well.

I am sure I will think of more later and you know me, little man--you know I'll tell you what I'm thinking when it comes to me.  In the meantime, son, just be aware that every word you say, every thought you have, and every action you take affects everyone and everything around you.  You'll thank me later--and so will your wife.

Love,

Mom

 

Autism Awareness: A non-eloquent rambling because I had too long to think while scraping paint

Those of you who know me know very well that my son is 9 and has high functioning autism. He has all kinds of trouble in school because of his behavior, but he loves to learn and he loves science. And he is wicked smart.  So this summer we signed him up for a week long day camp at the science center where we live. Usually when we sign him up for classes there and at the Museum of Natural History he has no issues and everything runs smoothly, but today when I went to pick him up after the first day of camp his counselor expressed all kinds of concerns. Apparently he had a few meltdowns today and they didn't know how to deal with it. E.g. he lost a game and he got upset, another kid bumped into him and he got upset, stuff we are used to. But they also accused him of throwing food at lunch, which is not him at all and he had no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned it, and if there is one thing he doesn't do it's lie (I'm not sure he can, actually), so I wonder if someone made that up.  I know a lot of people claim their kids would never lie, but my son, he really doesn't; he will avoid replying if he doesn't want to tell the truth, but he will never flat out fib.

Anyway, they kept saying they needed more strategies to deal with him because they "wanted him to be able to stay," thus implying to me that they were going to kick him out of the camp. They also suggested that he needed an aide (I assume me or his father) for the field trip, which is Thursday when they go to Cedar Point Amusement Park--it's an amusement park science camp--which is probably the least of their worries because he will be fine at CP. He loves the movement, and he feels secure when he is strapped into the rides. I told them that financially I don't know how that would work (at nearly $60 for one adult ticket!), but that I would come back in the morning and have some more suggestions for them after I talked with Gavin and figured out what happened from his perspective.

He tells me it was too loud and that he was not comfortable because he doesn't know anybody and now he doesn't want to go back, but he knows they won't refund our money and he doesn't want to waste it. I am kind of upset because the more I think about all this, the more it feels discriminatory. I know they have a behavior agreement for the kids, but Gavin is not trying to be "bad"--he is trying really hard and he wants very badly to be the model of good behavior. He is very hard on himself when he loses control. I know they can do whatever they want because there's no law saying they have to service a child's special needs, but still. Also, the counselor for his group said she studied special ed, so I would think she might have more sympathy, but like I said, it sounded like they are threatening to kick him out. She should see this as an opportunity to learn what she's going to be dealing with for the rest of her career as a teacher. 

So we stuffed his backpack with half of the items in his sensory box and now I get to sit down and write a list of suggestions that could end up being a mile long for all I know.  One of the hardest things about dealing with my son's autism is that what works this afternoon may not work tomorrow morning.  Sometimes it's a crap shoot.  That's why I spend so many hours holding my breath, hoping that he will catch the next baseball that comes to him or be able to jump off that diving board without freaking out or that he will be able to get out in a game of tag without majorly tweaking.  You just never know.  

We had to scrape up a lot of money for this and I just wanted him to have a good time and enjoy himself in an educational setting for a change. So I don't know how exactly I should approach them in the morning. But moreover, I am very frustrated and sad because I can foresee his quirks causing people to discriminate against him for the rest of his life.  It truly breaks my heart to have had this sudden new awareness about Autism.  

Enter the Yoga Rock Star

The yoga zone is a place of non-judgment, which is why I thought this post over for about 11 hours before ultimately deciding to go ahead and write it.  The truth is that 99% of the time spent on my mat is spent focusing on no one else but myself.  I don't notice or care what anyone else is doing.  But when one chooses to make a spectacle of one's self, well, it's hard not to notice.  And people, seriously--being noticed on your mat is not what this is all about.

Enter the Yoga Rock Star.

Now mind you, I love yoga, and I love rock stars, but what I have a very hard time stomaching is a Yoga Rock Star.  First and foremost, in my experience the Yoga Rock Star is always a male.  I have no doubt there are females of the type out there as well, but I haven't encountered them.  The Yoga Rock Star is the guy who, as you are laying on your back waiting for class to begin, sets up next to you and decides to do--you know, just as a little warm up--a freaking headstand.

Really?  You warm up with a headstand?  Who does that?

Someone who cares more about looking cool on his mat than he does about anything else, most likely.

I get very, very distracted when some Yoga Rock Star sets up next to me with his fancy Lululemon or Manduka mat, strips off his shirt, and starts showing off.  This one time I was next to a guy who felt the need to kick off into a handstand after every. single. downwardfacingdog.  (And if you've ever been in a vinyasa yoga class, you know there are a lot of downward facing dog poses.)  It is distracting, Yoga Dude!  Please stop!

Listen, folks.  Friends don't let friends be Yoga Rock Stars. And the chicks don't think you're sweet just because you are rockin' it out and dripping sweat all over your mat while the rest of us are just trying to hold a tree pose.  Your rapid movements in my peripheral vision are keeping me from holding my drishti.  No one is here to impress anyone, okay?  Okay.

This is a yogi who also happens to be a rock star.  You are not Adam Levine.  Please stop.  

Practicing Ahimsa. Badly.

“In the presence of one firmly established in non-violence, all hostilities cease.” 

– The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Sutra II.35

Ahimsa is the first of the Yamas, the yogic discipline of compassion and non-violence, the tenet which calls for us to cause no harm to ourselves or other beings and challenges us to dwell in the absence of pain.  I am afraid I am having trouble with that today.  Today I am in need of grace, as I my feelings are less than pure toward all of you parents who received your childrens' grade cards this week and then posted to Facebook about how many A's your kid got.  

And if the me 10 years ago heard the me today saying that I am made angry, jealous, and sad by your joy, I would really consider myself a complete jerkwad.  An anti-intellectual.  A giant bunch of sour grapes.

See, I was that kid, the "A" kid, when I was in school.  Things came pretty easily for me.  I conformed to rules as expected.  I had minimal emotional outbursts.  I did my homework, I studied for tests, and I loved to read.  I liked to please my teachers.  I raised my hand to answer lots of questions and I rarely ever missed school.  I was a parent's dream.

So I find it really, really hard to understand my autistic child.  I find it hard to understand why he finds school so emotionally tumultuous.  I don't get it when he clams up with anxiety and refuses to act.  I am perplexed when he cannot make simple choices about assignments, nonplussed when he has a meltdown over having to write a couple of sentences, and exasperated when he refuses to do work that I know he is fully capable of doing.  And I am left angry, defeated, and damn near despondent when his report card comes home with the news that this quarter, because he basically sat in the corner of the classroom reading books and generally being avoidant, he has failed all but one subject.  Or rather, his progress was "insufficient"--so he got all "I's," not "F's."  Whew!  That makes me feel better.  

Let me come clean and tell you what the devil on my shoulder wants me to think when I see you post that little Janie got all A's, or little Dickie is at the top of his class.  The little devil wants me to be rude and disparaging, and say that my kid is probably twice as smart as your kid, because my kid can break down words into their Latin roots and problem solve to understand new vocabulary, such as today when he figured out that a geosynchronous satellite will always stay over London, no matter what time of day it is, because it travels in time with (synch) with the earth (geo).  It wants me to say that my kid has a notebook full of inventions he wants to create someday, and that his heroes are Einstein and Tesla, and that he knows that starfish have thousands of tiny feet and that the peregrine falcon is the fastest animal on the planet, diving at up to 260 mph to catch prey, and that he will kick your butt in Minecraft knowledge any day of the week.

But the angel on my other shoulder knows that I should be celebrating with you, just as when my child has victories, I would want you to celebrate with me.  The angel tells me that someday, we will get beyond the need for headphones and sunglasses for sensory processing issues, he will learn to properly interpret social cues, he will learn to manage the anxiety that so often causes him to quit before he even begins, he will ride a bike without training wheels, and he might actually take, and finish, one of those stupid standardized tests so that the school district can have an accurate picture of his abilities for their stupid files.  And the fact that he doesn't do any of those things now isn't anyone else's fault, and it is wrong of me to take out my frustrations about it on other people and their children.  Their perfect children.  Children who get A's and win dance competitions and make home runs and take first place in spelling contests.  

And the angel tells me to be nice to myself, that I can't possibly do any more to help him than I am already doing, that it isn't my fault, and that I need to stop beating myself up over it.  I need to start practicing ahimsa--not just toward you, but toward myself.  

So please forgive me when I don't "like" your status update.  It's not that I don't like your child's successes.  It's that I can't stop seeing your child's successes as failures in my own.   

Where the Money Goes

We have a neighbor who keeps criticizing the condition of my house.  Among his observations:  We need new windows.  The porch steps aren't being repaired quickly enough.  We need to paint the exterior.  But on second thought, we should just get vinyl siding.  Etc. Etc. Etc.

I suppose that if we were amazing and old like him, and we had grown up in a time when people made a living wage and their unions made sure that their employers paid for their health insurance, and only one member of the household had to hold a job, and a college degree was a luxury and those who were working on one could work a summer job to pay for the next year's tuition, and people still had money to save at the end of the month, perhaps we'd have been able to plan better and we'd have the money to get a grand paint job and hire someone to finish the porch at lightning speed and put in some shiny, clean, energy saving new windows.  But we grew up with Reagan and Bush--both of the Bushes--so never mind all that.

I guess I just don't manage my money well enough, eh?

I am terrible at managing my money.  Let me come clean and horrify you with the breakdown.

I take my kids to science classes at the Great Lakes Science Center and the Cleveland Museum of Natural History so that they can learn the constellations, dissect starfish, watch giant Omnimax films about wild animals, and put together jars of water and clay and stones to see how the earth settles into sedimentary layers.

I get pool passes and swimming lessons so that we can spend all damn day at the pool getting good doses of exercise, vitamin D, and books.

I buy ballet shoes and send my daughter off to dance her little heart out.

I buy baseball mitts and watch my son run bases all summer.

I let my daughter get pink streaks dyed into her hair so that someday when she wants to do something her parents would consider rebellious, she will have to just go to mass or something lame like that.

I expedite shipping on my daughter's outgrown shoes, as well as the hair barrettes she has grown too old for, so that my cousin's little girl can enjoy them, too.

I pay extra for fresh, organic food so that my family will be healthy and will not go hungry.

I tip more than 20% to servers because they make less than $3 an hour.

I take the kids to ride roller coasters at Cedar Point.

I buy apps like Oregon Trail for the iPad.

I take friends to yoga.

I buy books.

I throw birthday parties.

I take my children to see The Hobbit in the theater.  And I let them buy expensive popcorn because it is part of the experience.

I let the kids buy overpriced hot dogs at Indians games.

I send the cub scout to day camp.

I buy plants and seeds and mulch and humus so that I can grow beautiful and tasty things, then share them with  the people I love.

I let the kids get Icees when we go to Target.

I get the grande soy latte at Starbucks, because dammit, I deserve it.

I pay a majority of the bills so that my husband can get the education he was meant to get.

And I go to yoga so that I can (more) gracefully cope with people like my neighbor.  And I bought a top notch mat, too--because I'm serious about this shit.  

So I am sorry that the paint is peeling on my house, and that the muffler on my car is loud, and that the porch is an abomination against your senses.  It must be awful to have to live near that, to see and hear it every day.  But in the meantime, I'll be enjoying some Zen with my kids at the pool.

This is my daughter, wasting money on water so she can run through the sprinkler.  We could have spent that money on paint.  

One Minute More

"Tapas has the sense of 'cooking' ourselves in the fire of discipline to transform ourselves into something else.  It is our determined effort to become someone of character and strength.  Much like cooking a egg denatures the egg, changing it into a different structure, Tapas eventually changes our nature, turning us into a cauldron that can withstand any of life's challenges.  Tapas is the day to day choice to burn non-supportive habits of the body and mind, choosing to forsake momentary pleasures for future rewards....Tapas is growing our ability to stay in the unknown and the unpleasantness, rather than run in fear.  It is the willingness to be both burned and blessed."  Deborah Adele, The Yamas and Niyamas

It's the real deal now, folks.  Juice fast, day one.  To be honest, I have felt pretty okay all day until now.  Right now I am starving.  Otherwise, I felt kinda jazzed up all day, a little edgy, a little short tempered maybe, but full of energy.  I think I need to balance out tomorrow's sugar content with more greens.  

So now is when the self discipline really sets in.  But I have a new mantra.  One minute more.  If I can last one minute more, I can last five minutes more.  And if I can last five, I can last ten, until it becomes endless, really.  I really haven't missed eating all that much today, and if I can do this today, I can do it tomorrow.  There is really a sense of empowerment that comes with fasting, the sense that if I can control my body's urges, there isn't much I can't do.  

But that is all I have for now.  I am tired and done for the day.  

One minute more.  If I can hold my own feet to the fire for one minute more, who knows what I can do.  

The Third They Leap

“Yoga is a powerful vehicle for change.
As you build strength, you start to believe in your own potential.”
ㅡ Tiffany Cruikshank | yoga teacher and sports medicine specialist 

I am 13 days into this raw food fast now and let me tell you, there are things that come up.  And out.  My skin is peeling everywhere.  I have a few pimples.  My hair is kinda greasy (which is a new one for me).  My nose will not stop running.  I am irritable over things that shouldn't really annoy me.  And I am a big fat crybaby.  Let me repeat--I am a BIG FAT CRYBABY.  I almost cried on my way to work the other day because I had a sudden feeling of being completely overwhelmed.  I almost cried in yoga class when I realized I could do a pose I'd never been able to do before.  I almost cried when Gavin's cub scout den leader said the next requirement we are working on is writing.... If you know my son, you know that his autism has caused verbal and written language issues that make writing send him into a near panic attack... and to try to make him write?  I've actually had meltdowns of my own trying to get him to do his homework.

Today's crybaby moment was during the sweatiest yoga class of my life.  Sweatiest EVER.  Even my elbows were sweating.  I was wiping my face with my shirt so I could see.  It was ridiculous.  Anyway, something I heard from seasoned rosarians when I first started growing roses was this:  "The first they sleep, the second they creep, the third they leap."  This means that the first year of a rose's growth it doesn't appear to do much.  It "sleeps."  But it isn't really sleeping; it is actually establishing its roots.  The next season, the rose will "creep."  As its roots have taken a firm hold, it can now start to grow upward, bloom a little more, get a little height on it.  But the third season, a rose will "leap."  Suddenly that sucker is all over the place, growing over the trellis or the fence, blooming its damn fool head off, and needing pruned occasionally to keep its health, its shape, and its focus.  You might even have to take the lopping shears to it if its ego gets out of control.

And as cheesy as it sounds, at that moment, standing in trikonasana and trying not slip on my own sweat, I felt like the rose.  Yes, I have just boiled my life down to a trite simile, but I totally mean it.  In my third year of practice, I suddenly feel like I am taking off, on the mat doing poses that used to scare me or that I was not yet capable of doing, and off the mat trying things I would have previously avoided, reacting more positively to things that used to upset me, taking leaps that I would have been too cautious to take before.

So, after a year's worth of deliberation and telling myself that I "can't make it work," I have decided to apply for a yoga teacher training to start in the fall.  I have no idea how I am going to pay for it, when I am going to find the time to do the study for it, or where I am going to ultimately go with it, but I'm going to leap and hope that the net appears.  I'd make a toast to the new me, but I'm fasting so all I can drink is water and herbal tea.

I leave you with Queen Elizabeth, the first rose I ever rooted by myself, and her first ever bloom--the one that finally appeared the year she turned three.

Wish me luck, and Namaste.

My Rosa "Queen Elizabeth," rooted from my husband's mother's rosebush in 2008.

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Remember that book?

Today was Day Two of raw week in my fast.  This means that every thing I eat all day has to be raw. I had a banana smoothie and raw zucchini bread with avocado and veggie pasta with marinara leftovers and apples and grapes and etc...and a spoonful of peanut butter, which was cheating, but my craving for something sweet and fattening got the best of me after my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  And it is not a surprise that I felt so salty all day long.  Food detox, in addition to managing portion control more than usual, can make you kinda crabby.

First, I missed my workout because due to the time change, I am still super tired.  Then I got in the car without my breakfast smoothie and had to go back in to get it.  I dropped the kids off at school and drove to the gas station on fumes only to realize when I got there that I didn't have my wallet.  Had to go back home again.  I got to work and called the insurance company because they denied Jim's claim for his last eye exam, and by the time I got off the phone I was ready to cry.  Went into the building and realized that I couldn't find my personal copy of Of Mice and Men, which sucked because I was reading it aloud with my students today, but I made do with the fact that I've taught it like 1000 times now and ended up not needing my annotations.  Ate my lunch and chipped a tooth on a walnut hull that somehow made it all the way from the factory into my raw zucchini bread.  Taught two more classes where I was harassed for quiz answers and time extensions.  Drove home and wanted to nap, but that never happens, so I helped my first grader with her homework...she took about an hour to do ten minutes of work, got mouthy, lost her video game privileges for tomorrow, made a giant ordeal of everything and I even heard the words "It's my life!" Come out of her mouth.  Went to get my friend to go to yoga and got mad at the guy in the SUV who was making me late for my appointment with serenity.

I felt like this:

I

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

But the good news is that it is bed time and I was a good girl and did my meditation, and I think I am all better now because this. Day. Is. Over.

The next time you come across a cranky pants like me, they might just be craving fat, sugar, and caffeine.  Or maybe they are just having a bad day.  Be merciful, please.

Clearing Out the Junk Drawer; or, Eka Pada Rajakopatasana

I mentioned last week in my post about fasting that one of the reasons we fast is to clear the mind of clutter that gets in the way of our spiritual growth.  So it follows that sometimes when I am doing these cleanses, crap comes up that has been buried for a while.  Last night I had one of those experiences.  Last night, during a very lengthy pigeon pose, my yoga teacher asked us, "If you were to die tomorrow, what would you regret having never done?"

It is highly relevant that I mention the asana because my yogi friends will recognize it as two things:  (1) One of those poses that people either love or hate, and (2) The pose that tends to make people break down and cry.  And my teacher knew the exact moment to ask such a simple, yet poignant, question.  I knew the answer immediately.  But I'll get to that.


Eka Pada Rajakopatasana--Pigeon Pose

Yoga practitioners are keenly aware of the connection between the body and emotions, aware in ways that non-yogis might consider superstitious.  But I'm telling you, this stuff is for real.  Take half pigeon pose.  In her piece entitled "What Your Favorite Yoga Pose Says About You,"  yoga teacher and blogger Lisa Agostoni points out:

"Subtlely, pigeon is connected to both the second (svadhishthana) and fourth (anahata) chakras. The second chakra is located at the sacrum or pelvic basin, and is the seat of our emotions, pleasure and sexuality. The fourth or heart chakra is where we cultivate love, compassion, and self-acceptance."

This pose opens our hips, the place where we tend to carry all kinds of emotional baggage, and in its full expression, our hearts, which we often close off when we should be opening them.  One of my own teachers refers to this pose as the one where we "clean out the [emotional] junk drawer." 

I love this pose. 

So back to me, in this pose, being asked poignant questions about my life.  Drum roll, please:

The thing I would most regret if I were to die tomorrow is that I have never publicly* taken responsibility for my part in the rift that has grown between me and my brother, and I have never told him that I am sorry for anything I said or did that may have hurt him.  I have never told him that I feel regret for all of the hours, days, months, and years spent avoiding him so as to avoid a confrontation.  I have never told him that I regret every word I said or wrote that was devisive.  I have never told him that, if I could back pedal 13 years, I would change the way I reacted to everything.  I have never told him that I am sorry for every ounce of gasoline that I ever threw on a flame, every public appeal I ever made for people to take my side, and every angry thought I ever had toward him and his wife.  So here it is.  This is me, acknowledging that everything is wrecked and that I am partially responsible for that wreckage.

I am clearing out the junk from our past and throwing it all away, and I am opening my heart to you now.

A friend of mine may have lost a brother today.  I am not sure yet--the news is still cryptic.  But what I do know for sure is that life can change in a blink of an eye.  Tomorrow, one of us could be gone.  I'm tired of the wasted years, and I just want to start over.  Bygones are bygones.  All is forgiven.  And all of those other cliches. 

You can call me any time.

 

 

*By "publicly" I mean that I have never admitted to any of this anywhere but in my own heart.

Why I Went Vegan, Where I Get My Protein, and the Answers To Other Such Questions

I frequently have people ask me, "So why did you decide to go vegan?"  And I never have a quick answer.  I think I need to come up with one.

The second question I frequently have people ask me is, "What do vegans eat?"  For that one there is a quick answer:  "Anything without a face."  Or I just show them a picture like this, my dinner tonight:

Raw vegan zucchini and carrot noodles with raw marinara

Anyway, back to why I eat a vegan diet.  First I have to admit that I am an almost full time vegan.  There are still the occasional moments when I falter and eat ice cream.  Sure, there's So Delicious coconut milk ice cream, but it just isn't the same as Mitchell's.  I'm working on that.  It doesn't happen too often.

I dropped meat after reading Jonathan Safran Foer's book Eating Animals.  If I back up a little, I can say that I started considering a vegan diet when I noticed that nearly every yoga instructor I had ate a vegan diet, and that there must be a reason for it within the yogi lifestyle.  Ends up there is, but I will get to that.  So back to Foer's book.  In addition to Jillian Michaels' book Master Your Metabolism and the documentary film Food, Inc., Eating Animals really made me stop and think about where my food is coming from.  Not only did I not like where my food was coming from, but I didn't like what I was reading about the way animals were being treated in factory farms.  I realize that not all meat manufacturers are equal, but it came down to spending a boatload of money tracking down grass fed, free range, organic animal products or just not eating animals at all.  Since my research indicated that I couldn't even trust labels like "free range" or "natural," I decided to just drop everything.  And if I had it my way, the whole family would have dropped animal products with me, but I have a husband with a mind of his own it seems.  Bummer.

So I won't get into the details of the above texts--I encourage you to look into them yourself--but I think I can think of three major reasons why I decided to follow a vegan diet.

1. Scientific research is increasingly showing that a plant based diet is the most healthy diet a person can follow.  Seriously.  You don't have to worry about cholesterol anymore (vegan foods have none), your blood pressure will probably drop, you'll feel like you have more energy, even your skin will look nicer.  I have found that I have far less trouble with mucus congestion--this is from a girl who used to be addicted to nasal spray.  As long as you don't spend all day drinking olive oil, eating nut butters out of the jar, or baking vegan cupcakes, you probably will not have to worry about gaining weight, either, but that's more relative than you'd think.  There are a lot of vegan foods that are high in fat and calories, so people still need to make wise decisions.

2. I feel better knowing that I am not contributing to the harm of other sentient beings.  This is where the yoga part comes in.  It is essential to living a life of peace that we not harm others.  This includes even the milk cows (that are typically fed an improper diet and kept cooped up in a little stall and etc...).  I feel that it would be hypocritical for me to claim to live a yoga lifestyle and still cause harm to animals.

3. The meat industry is bad for the environment.  Anyone who is truly concerned about carbon emissions needs to stop eating meat.  The U.S. cattle industry creates more carbon dioxide emissions than all of the automobiles combined.  I learned that at a local science museum, so if you'd rather believe the cattle industry than science, you go right ahead.

Now as far as do vegans get enough protein (nuts, seeds, beans and legumes, leafy greens), do they get enough calcium (those orange juice cartons aren't lying about their calcium content), and can they build muscle (there are many, many vegan athletes out there), the answer is "YES" for all of the above provided that one does a couple of simple things:  (1.) Eat a balanced diet (good advice for anyone) and (2.) Exercise (again, good advice for anyone).  So you can stop worrying about your vegan friends now.  Your worry is really only your way of telling your vegan loved ones that you don't trust them to make sound decisions themselves.  ;)

So why did I go vegan?  I guess that is the best and quickest way I can sum it all up.  But if you ever want to have a conversation about it, I do love talking about food.  And eating it.  Come over and we'll do dinner.

Water, Water Everywhere

28 Days of Fasting Day 2:  Water.

Have you ever been so completely dehydrated that no amount of water could quench your thirst?  I think that last night I learned to never, ever go to bed thirsty.  I had a couple handfuls of these new crackers while I was packing Gavin's lunch and I swear they sucked all the water out of my body, including my brain.  Seriously. You have to understand that none of this makes any sense because I probably drank a gallon of water yesterday. I don't think I will ever eat Crunchmaster sea salt gluten- free crackers again.  Ever.

As it would follow, I woke with a ridiculous migraine. So I had a glass of fresh juice for breakfast, took my daily vitamins and my magnesium supplement, and sucked down about 3 bottles of Aquafina on the way to work (not too hard to do since there was an accident on 90 E, making my drive take nearly an hour).  I was trying to not take any medication.  I don't know why I bother trying to avoid medication because nothing else ever works.  Listen, people.  Coffee doesn't work; in fact, it just sucks more water out of your body.  Don't do that.  Excedrin Migraine?  Gimmick.  Save your money.  If it's getting rid of your headaches, you probably don't have migraines.

But I digress.  What I really want to talk about is water.  The migraine just got me a little off track because, well, dehydration can cause one.  And I am not kidding when I say that I think those crackers gave me a hideous migraine.

I borrow the following information from "Why Your Body Needs Water: For Dummies." Since it is allegedly written for idiots, I hope it is clear enough:

"You need water to

• Digest food, dissolving nutrients so that they can pass through the intestinal cell walls into your bloodstream, and move food along through your intestinal tract.
• Carry waste products out of your body.
• Provide a medium in which biochemical reactions such as metabolism (digesting food, producing energy, and building tissue) occur.
• Send electrical messages between cells so that your muscles can move, your eyes can see, your brain can think, and so on.
• Regulate body temperature — cooling your body with moisture (perspiration) that evaporates on your skin.
• Lubricate your moving parts."

We all hear all the time about how we need to drink about 64 oz of water a day, but how many people really listen?  We think that Red Bull, Mountain Dew, and coffee are what we need to wake up in the morning.  We think that a sugary Pepsi is a good pick-me-up.  We are fooled by marketing ploys called "Vitamin Water" (please...) and we have been brainwashed into thinking that Gatorade is what we need when our electrolytes are low. 

I have a secret.  Just. Drink. Water.

Last summer, I was roped into being a den leader for my son's cub scout daycamp for a week.  It was about 95 degrees outside all week, and we couldn't stress enough that these kids needed to be refilling their water bottles every single time they walked past the drinking fountain at the campground.  Yet some of these parents kept sending their kids with big bottles of Gatorade, and then the kids didn't want to run out of Gatorade so they would purposely NOT drink enough.  Because a 24 oz bottle of Gatorade is enough to last a kid eight hours in the sun on a hot summer day, right?  There was one kid who kept actually adding packets of artificial sweetener to his Gatorade--and this was the kid whose mother made her own babyfood and fancied herself to be all about feeding her kids the healthiest foods.  It was ridiculous.  Parents, please just give your kids water.

The next time you think about buying that ridiculously overpriced bottle of high caffeine, high fructose corn syrup laden "energy drink," consider a good old fashioned bottle of H20 instead.  You will save a lot of money and you might just be surprised at how much better you feel once your body is getting what it actually needs.   If that isn't enough incentive, think about the countless numbers of unnecessary calories you consume every time you pick up a Frappacino or a Powerade.  I don't know about you, but I like to save my calories for real, chewable food. 

A New Goal

Today I decided that my new goal is to work out and lose enough weight so that my boobs will not constantly be falling out of the top of my shirt when I am in an inversion....or smothering me in halasana.  If you think that was TMI, deal with it.  I'm tired of them getting in the way and I am not willing to do anything unnatural, so this is all the more incentive to really change my habits overall this time and not go back to making oven fries every time I crave greasy foods because I rationalize that if I make it myself, it's good for me.

Vaguely uneventful day here on fast day 1 since this is vegan week so not much has changed for me.  I am amazed that I am not tired because I slept so poorly last night, but I've had two glasses of fresh juice in the place of coffee, which I think really helped.

On the super awesome front, however, is that I got into headstand without using the wall for the FIRST TIME EVER!!  It was so exciting that once I realized I'd done it, I fell over.  What is amazing is that it almost seemed easy.  That takes more core strength than you'd imagine.  I must be getting somewhere.

That's really my only update for today as far as the fasting thing goes, other than that I bought about 3 lbs of grapes for then the sugar cravings start to kick in.  Which will be soon.  Quitting sugar is harder than quitting alcohol, caffeine, or smoking.  I know because I have quit all of them and I'm telling you, sugar is evil evil evil.

Don't trust the sugar man.

Moses, Jesus, and Me

Oh, hi.  It's been a while.

Tomorrow I begin my fourth 28-day-cleanse.  It's hip to call these things "cleanses" or "detoxification" or whatever these days, but what it boils down to is that I am going to be taking part in a four week long fast.  It's not a complete fast, like Moses or Jesus wandering through the desert for 40 days with nothing but water, sore feet, and temptation, but it's a fast nonetheless.  And it got me thinking about how in the past, I don't feel as if I have taken as much advantage of these fasts as I could have...in fact, the last time I was downright lazy about it.  Sure, I only ate--or didn't eat--what I was supposed to and all that, but fasting isn't just about what we (don't) eat.

I've been reading up on fasting the past few days, and it seems to me that every major spiritual group that fasts (which is pretty much all of them) does so with these primary reasons in mind:

1. To deprive the body of earthly things that clutter our minds and get in the way of spiritual growth;

2. To make a path for greater spiritual connection with God or the gods or the Self or the Universe whatever-it-is;

3. To regain control of ourselves--to practice self-disipline, self-control, patience, and endurance; dare I say "to resist temptation?";

4. To reflect on the fact that there are others out there who live in deprivation every day;

and, in addition to that, traditional Ayurvedic medicine adds that

5. By abstaining from eating--either by eating only simple foods or by abstaining from food completely--we give the digestive system time to rest and the body time to get rid of any impurities that are weighing us down or causing us illness.  It is a time of rest and rejuvenation for the system.  It is restorative.

So, why am I blogging about this?  In particular, I have read that Orthodox Christians and Muslims specify that one should "suffer in silence." To announce to the world, "Hey!  I'm fasting!  And I am soooo awesome and spiritual and, oh yeah, soooo dying for a plate of french fries!" is tacky and defies much of the spiritual purpose of fasting.  However, I have decided to blog about my experience because: (a) I am supposed to keep a journal anyway, and last fall I was totally terrible at keeping my journal.  Perhaps blogging will motivate me.  (b) I come across information that I find interesting and I like to share with others.  (c) I like to take pictures of my food and post them for the world to see.  Food is fun.  And (d) I hope that maybe my journey will inspire others to try a fast sometime.  I actually find it exciting.

The specifics of this fast are as follows.  First and foremost, there are no processed foods allowed, no caffeine, no sugar, no alcohol.  Only whole, vegan foods.  Week 1 is vegan whole foods week.  Week 2 is raw foods only--that's where it gets interesting.  You may think this seems like a very boring way to eat, but you'd be amazed at what can be done with plant based foods, a Vitamix, and a good food dehydrator.  Week 3 is juice only.  The longest I have made it is 5 1/2 days.  I debated just doing a fruit fast this time because I tend to binge after a juice fast and wreck everything I worked so hard to achieve, but I am still thinking that over.  And week 4 is raw foods again, slowly introducing easily digestible foods to the system.  I always feel awesome until week four when I break down and buy something fried or make a grilled veggie cheese sandwich.  I need to work on that.

I am also adding something that I haven't done before.  I am going to focus this month on the Niyama Tapas.  More on that later, but it seems to fit pretty well with what I am trying to accomplish, which is to train myself to stick with the hard stuff when my feet are in the fire.

So there you have it.  Day 1 tomorrow.

Namaste.