What you do

You show up with a smile and a brave face.  You withhold judgement on dustbunnies and mildew.  You tirelessly pack up every little book, piece of paper, trinket and memento; helping to purge when you can.  You laugh hardily with them as you discover the hidden "gigantic orgasm" book- discovered luckily by you when her mother is not in earshot.  You pack and tape and lift and haul.  You sweep and vacuum and dust and scrub.  You marvel at how quickly it all goes into the truck.  

Then... you start to say good-bye.  Tears flow into sobs as you kiss her baby good-bye.  Whose birth you attended.  Who will not remember you next time.  You try to be brave and say things like, "I know this is the right choice for you".  You both admit you're not good at keeping up with e-mail but will try.  You are grateful to have had each other during this time- of weddings and babies and transitions and examinations and failures and resounding successes.  

And you walk to your car- eyes heavy, needing a nap to wipe clean your teary eyes.  And you know that the next time you meet you will be changed.  Perhaps a little less innocent, perhaps a little more confident, perhaps more than a little exhausted.  Maybe there will be more births.  But your heart is aching for missing her... still in her apartment for a few more hours.  The moving truck packed- neither of us ready for her to go.

Loving Kindness

It seems so simple.  Love.  Be kind.  Somehow this can become an elusive art.  Most especially with those we hold the closest.  It seems an almost innate behavior.  Young children reserve their outcries and outbursts for their parents.  As teenagers, the words "I hate you" seem to slip effortlessly from our lips.  And now- I find the person I rage with and at the most is my partner.  This person with whom I've chosen to spend this live... this person who I agreed to love and care for... this person who has chosen the same.  Somehow, he bears the brunt of it.  It is commonly understood that we reserve our worst behavior and our worst selves for those we trust and love the most.  As if that was a good reason.  As if this excuses the bad behavior.  "See, this unbridled anger and frustration and exhaustion is really showing you that I trust that our relationship can sustain this assualt."  Bullshit.  I think the reasoning is probably right on... but I think too often it is used as a way of abdicating responsibility.

After getting into an outrageously loud and non-sensical fight today, a friend simply suggested "Remember to be kind".  It seems so simple.  At its core and in its practice it can be more challenging. 

I'm not one to meditate.  It takes the practice of sitting still and quieting one's mind.  Not something I (or many of us these days) find easy.  One meditation I have worked with in the past is on Loving Kindness.  It begins by working first with focusing on being kind to yourself- as a foundation of loving others and the universe.  

May I be filled with loving kindness

May I be well

May I be happy

May I be at peace.

Seems like a radical first step.  I'm going to try being with this for awhile, repeating it in my heart.  Turning off the radio and reciting it while I drive.  While I do the dishes.  While my mind drifts off to sleep.  

And you?

A Sense of Balance

Even though yoga has been part of my life for years now, I'm not very good at it.  It offers so much of what I strive to include in my life: balance, quiet, presence, breath.  A non-competitive arena for challenge and self-acceptance.  A place to let go and let be.  It is the opposite of the rest of my days.  Still I am drawn to it, love it, am fulfilled by it, enriched by it.  But it takes all of myself to quiet my internal monologue of competition and self-doubt, list-making and planning, agonizing and worrying.  And still- the moments are fleeting that it all comes together.  I am in my body.  I am not worried about my dripping sweat, my protruding belly, my things to do, my places to be.  I am not running over and over the events of my day, the what is next, the where to and the what for.  The moments are few and far between- but they exist.  And when I remember- I work to cultivate that presence (or absence?) of mind off the mat.

Currently I am suspended between my two lives.  Actually- I am fully immersed in my home life.  I am working hard every day to get my new house set up and organized so that when I start working 80 hours a week, it will feel like a sanctuary not a storm.  I am working hard every day to love my partner, to endear myself to him so that he may remember me not pushed to the edge of myself.  I am working hard to store up lovely time with my sweet pea... so that he will fully know that my love is with him even when I am not present.  It is a binge.  It is an immersion.  And the pit in my stomach has already started to churn- anticipating the Next Big Thing... concerned yet again about preserving some sense of balance in the craziness of my metamorphosis.  Our metamorphosis.  So I do my best now to squirrel away that time- to stay with my little guy and watch him amass a truckload of pine cones when I can think of 10 other things that need to get done... so that I may remember the sweetness in his face, the determination in his brow, the sunlight in his hair.  I do my best to take in the smell of my honey, breathe in his embrace, really listen to him about his day.  I'm worried that I will forget these things- or forget to pause for them.

Tonight in class, we spent what seemed like hours in balance poses: Tree, Warrior 3, Side Plank.  I was reminded to breathe, reminded to quiet myself, reminded to be.  Tonight I did it- and just maybe, I can take it with me.  Moments of quietly breathing and being.  Amidst chaos, confusion, criticism: Let's breathe.  Let's be. 

Laughing along the way

I recently read that pre-school aged children laugh up to 400 times a day while adults average only 17 bouts of laughter daily.

To me, that's crazy talk... but certainly true in my life these days. It's funny... after weekends or even good chats will some friends, we'll part ways and I'll think "I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard or that much."  (Such was the case as I ended my conversation last night with a hilarious, loving friend with whom I'd been out of touch for several months).

Luckily I have a laugh machine in my house.  Nothing brings on the giggles like a 2 year olds' big huge belly laugh.  Infectious.  Contagious.  One of his favorite ways to elicit a sustained laugh is to cup his hand, toss something imaginary in the air, look up at the ceiling, then wide-eyed look right at me and say, "GO?"  (like, "Where did it go?")  For some reason, tossing invisible objects skyward makes for long stretches of hilarity.

I crave laughter... the laughter that you have to catch your breath from, the laughter that makes you wipe your eyes, the laughter that sends you running to the bathroom, the laughter that creates "spit takes", the laughter that once turned me into a human volcano of milk and chocolate cake... Now that's good stuff.

Our bodies thrive on laughter- the emotional release... It has been shown to reduce cortisol and other stress hormones, increases endorphins levels, and strengthen our immune system.  It also helps work out those critical core muscles.

During my first hospital experience as a medical student, a friend and I were on rounds together.  After exiting a patient's room, we both dutifully reached for the alcohol foam.  Somehow... in my always-graceful way... I caused a major malfunction in the squirt department.  Foam was everywhere- on my coat, on my glasses, in my friends' hair, on the floor, obliterating the notes scrawled on my paper.  She and I took one look at each other and were shaking with laughter.  Trying to be the mature, professional students we sniggered and coughed- almost losing it each time we found a wayward bit of foam.  But what do you think the halls of the hospital needed more at that moment... hearty, authentic laughter or another set of overwhelmed yet attentive students, nodding along to a run down of lab values?

So let's laugh, giggle, guffaw, chortle... at the little things, the big things, the WTF?! things, the imaginary things.  Revert with me a little.  Make me laugh.

This video makes me laugh every single time I see it.  Enjoy!

It Is I Who Must Begin

So here I am- reluctantly, nervously- but resolutely here.

I arrived in this place because for months I have been feeling locked up, disconnected- out of myself. I'm not sure when this happened or why- but I have this sense of watching myself from a far away place.

In my life of rushing, with constant demands on my time (self-imposed or otherwise), it has become clear that I need an outlet, a place for contemplation, reflection- time. I need to reconnect, open, evolve- participate. Ironic to me that like many others, I've chosen to turn to the chaotic, overwhelming internet as a place for peaceful reflection.

So here I am- trying to write freely without worry about perfection, judgment, rejection (or run on sentences!) as I work to cultivate connection.

______________

This poem has been haunting me for weeks. I first found it years ago- in a magazine somewhere. I wrote it out and tacked it to the wall of my "aparto" in rural Japan. The words grounded me a gave me a lot of solace. That paper is probably tucked into some folder, stashed away and forgotten. Until now. It found me again and continues to resonate.

It is I who must begin.
Once I begin, once I try --
here and now,
right where I am,
not excusing myself
by saying things
would be easier elsewhere,
without grand speeches and
ostentatious gestures,
but all the more persistently
-- to live in harmony
with the "voice of Being," as I
understand it within myself
-- as soon as I begin that,
I suddenly discover,
to my surprise, that
I am neither the only one,
nor the first,
nor the most important one
to have set out
upon that road.
Whether all is really lost
or not depends entirely
on whether I am lost.
~ Vaclav Havel ~