less than 24 hours

12 hours later –

stomach ocean calm.  mind squall

moves through tomorrow

.

 

In honor of those Sherpas who died on Mt. Everest

radiant beauty –

courage tempered by wisdom

willing to go first….

 

 

March 17-One Year, One Day at aTime – tough day – heavy

Coming home today, driving through the flat farmlands of Illinois, watching the sun rise over the pine trees and color just the tips with a hint of rose, I realized my life has once again changed and there is no going back.   I have cancer, again.  I still have no idea what  that will entail, what choices I will make or what treatments I will receive, but I do know that this is a turning point of some sort or another.

When my son asked me today how I liked his new haircut, I said, “Not so much.”  “Why,” he asked, “what’s don’t you like about it?”  “It makes your head look big around the top,” I answered. He just looked at me and I said, “Don’t ask me if you do not want to know what I really think.”  You see I have always said to my son, what I thought he needed to hear.  I never wanted to hurt his feelings.  I have done that with many others as well.  He asked a simple question, I gave him a direct answer.  I want others to do the same for me.  Direct, honest, bare bones.  Let’s just have it straight up.  No rocks.

Anyway, we went on to talk about other things.  Things change.  I am changing.  He is changing.  Why is it so scary to change.  After he left it felt as it the ground were shifting underneath my feet.  What was firm just a week ago is now silty and permeable.  Change, although inevitable, is unsettling.  I keep thinking about Pema Chodron, who writes with such wisdom and elegance about the ways we try to stave off change only to eventually have to embrace its inevitability.  The Three Little Pigs want to hold up in the house of straw, but the wolf is at the door.  Shit, let him blow the fucking house down.  We will build another one.

We will overcome.  We will overcome or in the words of Mahalia Jackson:

Mahalia Jackson—We Shall Overcome

We shall overcome, we shall overcome,
We shall overcome someday;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We shall overcome someday.

The Lord will see us through, The Lord will see us through,
The Lord will see us through someday;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We shall overcome someday.

We’re on to victory, We’re on to victory,
We’re on to victory someday;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We’re on to victory someday.

We’ll walk hand in hand, we’ll walk hand in hand,
We’ll walk hand in hand someday;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We’ll walk hand in hand someday.

We are not afraid, we are not afraid,
We are not afraid today;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We are not afraid today.

The truth shall make us free, the truth shall make us free,
The truth shall make us free someday;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
The truth shall make us free someday.

We shall live in peace, we shall live in peace,
We shall live in peace someday;
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We shall live in peace someday.

The truth will set us free.  Speak your truth.  When you learn more, if it changes, be humble enough to admit that you now know more and want to recant.

Love and Light, Sarla

Last One Of the Morning

peace of mind over

rated give me a head on

fire consumed with desire

My Head’s on Fire by sebreg on deviantART

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My Head’s on Fire by sebreg

February 27-One Year One Day at a Time – Cave of The Heart

Damn, I just spent 45 minutes writing a post on my lap top that has disappeared.  I went on and on about how satisfied I am to be who and where I am now.  Well, shit, that all went out the window when I could not retrieve my post.  Not really.  It was just a bunch of words on paper.  Briefly what I said was that I believe in what I am doing and I have never been more satisfied with my life.  I am not complacent or bored or giving up.  Quite to the contrary, I am more engaged than ever.  I have actually enjoyed teaching yoga this week.  I credit that to the personal practice I have done every day since coming home from Belize.  Jim Bennitt’s steady, direct teaching inspired me to be more persistent and steady in my practice.  My back ache is gone.  I am not jonesing for excitement.  In fact, I told Jimmy tonight how much I enjoy being at home and writing, being still, feeling inspired and totally real.

I am over spending time with people who have no interest in being genuine.  Not for me.  I want raw, authentic, even politically incorrect.  I would rather spend a night with a flaming republican who speaks out about what he believes in than spend an evening with a bunch of liberal bores who are just spouting political bull shit to look and sound good.  What do you really believe?  Why are you afraid to be the amazing person you were born to be?  There is no perfection to which we must aspire because each one of us is perfect as we are.  We have each been created with a specific purpose.  We have something that no one else has that the world desperately needs to survive and to thrive.  Take responsibility for your own life.  Do not squander one more minute of one more day.  What ever it is that you have avoided, face it now, do it now, be it now.  You can do it.  We need you.  I need you.

Okay I am over it.  This is better than what I wrote before.  If I have to I will write it again.  Do not give up on yourself.  The world needs you just as you are now.  Believe it.  F_ _k em if they can’t take a joke.  Be who you are now no matter what the obstacles, no matter what your mother says or your father or whomever.  Just do it. Just do it.  Don’t wait as long as I have to live the life you are meant to live.  Do it now.

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. … No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others”
― Martha Graham

Cave of the Heart by Martha Graham

Eat, Sleep, Poop – Motivation?

Miss my morning latte.  My sweet husbands gets up and says, “I’ll let you know when the coffee is ready.”  He leans over to kiss me and leaves the room.  I roll over and catch a few more minutes of sleep.  Sometimes I get up.  Just like that.  I rise up, put on my robe and slippers and head to the bathroom.  Rod Stryker said, “Life is the movement from the bedroom, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to the bathroom and back to the bed.” Pretty much sums it up.  We eat, poop and sleep, something like that.

So what motivates us to fill the time in between sleeping, eating and defecating? Even our ancestors, the cave men, had time on their hands otherwise we would not have seen the evolution of technology over the centuries.  They created tools that moved us from the Stone Age into Bronze Age and forward to the Iron each of which is distinguished by the development of technology.  What motivated them to sit down and play with the materials they had at hand, to create something from seemingly nothing?  Isn’t that what we as writers do every time we sit down at our computers or our notebooks?

As a yoga teacher, I have prepared for classes in a multitude of ways.  I have written out class plans some based on the anatomy of the practice, others on philosophical themes, sutras, ancient teachings, mantras, still others on a what we in the yoga world call a “peak” poses, sequencing the class specifically to help the students successfully do a more challenging pose like ashtavakrasana.

What I have found is that I do my best teaching with no plan at all.  If I do my personal asana practice, if I meditate, and empty my cup coming to the studio with an open mind and open heart, the teachings flow through me.  I sit with the students as class begins, eyes closed, breathing and I silently say, “Please let what I teach tonight be what these students need at this time.”  And it works.  I am a channel, a portal, I disseminate and create from what I know, what I have learned and what lies beyond understanding.

So do you suppose the cave man sat down one day at the fire and said to himself, “I need to  figure out a better way to get wood for my fire.  I have learned how to make fire by placing a leaf in the sun, by rubbing two sticks together, but now I need more wood to make a bigger, longer lasting fire.”  He had to be curious.  He had to recognize a need and believe that there was a solution.  He trusted his instincts.  He was observant.  In searching for materials to make a tool for wood cutting, this man or woman had to understand what a sharp object was and how it could be used.  Perhaps he started with a rough edged rock binding it to a sturdy stick with a vine.  “Looks pretty good,” he thinks.  He walks to the nearest tree and tries to chop off a limb.  The tree is alive so the branch is fibrous.  He cannot easily cut through it.   When he does manage to get it down,he throws it into his fire only to discover that a green limb does not burn well.  It smokes and smolders and gives off little heat.  Now what?  He remembers the wood he has used he collected off the ground.  It is dead wood.  Light bulb!  “I need to find a dead tree and chop branches off of it.”  And so it goes.  Bigger tools for bigger jobs, using fire to make more durable materials out of what he finds.  Bonding one thing to another, melting, crafting, making molds, until one day there is bronze and now this man who started with nothing can break rock and build specific structures shaped for his particular needs.  When his needs are met, he becomes more creative, making things of beauty, embellishing what he makes with other found objects, pieces of shiny rock…. Now he has jewelry to wear and to offer in trade for things others have learned to make.

Whole communities are established out of the need for shelter and food and as men and women come together they share ideas.  The ability to create and build is enhanced by common interests, needs and the innate desire to be creative, to ornament, decorate and beautify everyday objects.  Out of nothing comes a work of art, an expression of the soul’s desire to expand beyond its limits.  This is the basic principle of Tantric Yoga.  All of life longs to thrive, has the potential to overcome obstacles, to stretch beyond limitations, to pulse energetically with the wave of creation referred to in Tantra as Spanda.  In the ancient language of Sanskrit, the definition of Spanda is the vibration, the creative pulsation of the universe; the sacred vibration that exists within us.  Spanda is a quivering, a palpitation, a throbbing, a quickening that moves us from one place to a better place, to a place where we understand more, where we innovate, we are more capable of using our innate gifts to create something out of seemingly nothing.

Words on a page, the discovery of quarks, telescopes to see beyond the stars, satellites that float in space able to track our every move, cell phones, and computers, all created in the space between the time we eat, sleep and poop. It all started with a stick and a rock or maybe a leaf and two sticks.  Pretty cool.

January 31- One Year, One Day at a Time -Hot Bod

Hot bod.  You know that commercial with the Arian man and his south american counter part running up and down the bleachers?  Young, hot girls are watching, starry-eyed, swooning because the two young men have such great bodies.  Really?  I have a hot body for a 62-year-old woman.  Okay is that arrogant, or am I giving you the facts?  Why do I even want to write about this?  Why, because tonight at dinner when the 3 other people we were with talked about procuring second homes, selling and buying condos and the like, I thought, what am I doing with my life?   Writing, teaching yoga, counseling, doing life coaching and ….I have a hot bod.  I just snickered.  This is really quite funny coming from the girl who, in eighth grade heard the gym teacher tell her, “You are weak and terribly over weight.  You should be ashamed of yourself.  You need to lose weight.”  She was so angry all because I could not pull myself up a climbing rope.

And so I was for years to come.   That was a turning point for me. I immediately started dieting, starving myself in hopes of attaining my goal, the perfect weight, 110 pounds.  I only weighed 120 to start.  Was I even overweight, or had my body not quite caught up with my….What am I talking about.  I was at one time heavier than I am now.  Embarrassed about my weight I dieted, took pills, used enemas and tried my best not to eat at all.  If I did eat and especially when I overate,  I took laxatives.  No one, no one was ever going to discover my sordid secret.  I ate and ate more to escape feelings for which i had no explanation.

Today, I do not eat or drink to cover up or hide from who I am.  I do not drink or eat too much to escape my feelings. I enjoy food and alcohol to the extent that i am having fun with friends. Over consumption of food and alcohol does not erase the past.  We each must do that for ourselves. Learning not to be a victim of the past does take time and effort.  No matter who you are, the past does effect you.  Samscaras, our perceptions of what has happened, the scars those experiences created are a sticky spider web waiting to ensnare us.  We cannot change the past but we can kill the spider, that part of ourselves that works feverishly to weave a web of self-made obstacles, false ideas of who we are, illusions of reality, avidya, a film that covers our eyes and hearts obscuring the truth, misapprehending, creating confusion and fear.

Ha, I have to laugh.  My perception of myself, me seeing me as having at hot bod for a 62-year-old grandmother may well be just another filament in the spider web I am trying to escape.

I am falling asleep sitting up in bed.  I must to go to sleep.  I will be back in touch tomorrow.

Do The Impossible

Writing a novel gives me strength. It ignites the fire of hope in my soul.  Writing brings me face to face with what is most important to me.  It makes me more compassionate.

My son asked today, “How is the writing going?”

“Well”, I said, “It is a little depressing now.  My character is going through so much.  But I love it.  I think I know how the story will end, but I have put that out of my mind.  I do not want it to influence what she thinks and feels right now.   I do not want to commit this character to a particular fate,.  She might change.  She might undergo a huge transformation.  Anything is possible.

In the Rodgers and Hammerstein version of Cinderella staring Brandy and Whitney Houston, the one my son gave to my grand-daughter for Christmas, the one we have watched numerous times, the fairy godmother (Whitney) sings:

Impossible 

Impossible, for a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage.
Impossible, for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in
Marriage,
And four white mice will never be four white hosrses!
Such fol-der-ol and fid-dle-dy dee of course, is— Impossible!
But the world is full of zanies and fools
Who don’t believe in sensible rules
And won’t believe what sensible people say.
And because these daft and dewey-eyed dopes keep building up impossible
Hopes,
Impossible things are happening every day.

Yes, impossible things are happening every day.  Like me writing a novel.  Put aside self-doubt.  Be bold.  Dare to fail.  Try, try again.  Never give up no matter how many obstacles arise.  Believe in the words of Krishnamacharya,  “What was once impossible becomes possible over time.” (with practice, with faith, with determination).  Name it.  Ask for it.  Seek it.  You will find it.

Stickiness – I want to stick with you

Have you ever referred to one of your close friends as sticky?  Kathy is one of my stickiest friends.  She has stuck with me through thick and thin.  When others questioned my motives, she had my back.  When I stood my ground and fired five of the teachers who taught at my yoga studio, she never asked why.  Two weeks ago, when I struggled with the question of alcoholism.   Am I an alcoholic?  Am I the living legacy of my mother?  She texted me every day.  “Been reading your blog.  Stay strong.  I love you.  As they say, one day at a time.  Sending love and healing energy your way.  You’re on my mind and wanted you to know I’m here for you in any way I can.  Good for you.  You deserve a great day.”  Now that is a sticky friend.  No judgement, no shame, no doubt, just love and support.

Although stickiness is not a quality you might strive to achieve, it embodies all that is good in life.  Honey is sticky.  Who does not like honey?  Adhesives are sticky.  They hold things together.  What would we do without Elmer’s glue, super glue, hot glue, wood glue, rubber cement, glue guns, glue sticks and epoxy.

How would we attach a stamp to an envelope?  How would we keep wrapping paper on the presents we give to our loved ones at holiday time?  Without stickiness, super models would have to forgo fake eye lashes and nails, children would not have stickers to play with and I would never have chewed bubble gum, which by the way, rotted my teeth.  And  what about gummy bears?  Now there is a sticky business that is bad for the teeth.

If something is worthwhile, if it has purpose and meaning, if it is universal, like a moral, a folk-tale, an urban legend, it will stick.  Good ideas stick.  Inventions that make life easier stick with us.  What was a kleenex called before it was a Kleenex?  Kimberly Clark trademarked the name Kleenex for its paper handkerchiefs in 1930.  Now we call every facial tissue, Kleenex.  The name stuck.  Copy machines were once just that. Now we know them as Xerox machines.  Apple was Steve Job’s favorite fruit.  There are more sticky brand names that are now nouns:  Alka Seltzer, Frisbee, YoYo, Escalator, Chapstick, Ping pong, Styrofoam, Scotch Tape, and my all time favorite, Hoola-hoop.

As a writer, I want to be sticky.  I want my ideas, my thoughts, my words, my sentences, my stories to stick with you.  I want them to be unique and universal.  I want my name to be bandied about like, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Woolf, Henry Miller, Toni Morrison,Maya Angelou,  Flannery O’Conner, and Margaret Atwood.  These are not just words,  These names mean “writers.”  Do I want to be famous?  No. I want to be good, really good at what I do.  I want to challenge, awaken, enliven and engage my reader.  I will keep writing, day after day, month after month, year after year, until I learn how to be sticky.

First Holiday Party. Still Sober

Just returned home from my first sober holiday party of the 2013 season.  I did no drink.  I am eight days sober.  I sat with all my friends.  Three of us were not drinking.  Thank God the other two were at my table.

I watched.  I looked around.  I noticed every time the waiters walked through with the bottles of wine.  I could smell the Cabernet.  I could taste the dry white wine (in my mind), but I did not drink.  One friend said, “I am so proud of you.”  I laughed.  She had a Bloody Mary.  “It’s not that good.  You aren’t missing anything.”  Okay good.  I don’t like Bloody Mary’s anyway.  I felt fine during the cocktail hour that preceded the seated dinner.  I drank coffee while others had mimosas, champagne, bloody marys, and spiked egg nog. Mmmm, egg nog.

The longer we waited to eat, the more difficult it became.  I was hungry.  I remembered H.A.L.T.  Do not get hungry, angry, lonely or tired. All of these states put you at risk of drinking. I looked around for the hor d’oeuvres.  I do not eat gluten.  The waiters passed trays of gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches and others of crab cakes, both of which are made from wheat.  I did not see anymore of the delicious deviled eggs I had sampled earlier.  When we finally sat down, I ordered a cup of hot water.  Others had wine.  It seemed to me like everyone was having wine which of course they were not.  The children and teens did not drink.  My husband was not drinking, neither was my one of my friends. I wanted my meal. I have noticed since I quit drinking that food is now more important than ever.  The food was worth waiting for.. . . salad served over a fried green tomato topped with pimento cheese, shrimp and grits with andouille sausage, and ice cream, peppermint and caramel pecan.

Enough about not drinking.  I enjoyed myself.  I looked into the eyes of those to whom I was speaking.  I listened.  I remember all my conversations.  I think I engaged more with the people I met and talked to than I would have had I been drinking.  Time will tell, but now I am truly glad that I did not have any alcohol today.