A little over two years ago, in the wake of losing a job in a very nasty way, I discovered yoga. One of the messages which helped me heal from that unpleasantness was the message of "letting go of that which no longer serves." It did not serve me to dwell in anger. It only kept me from moving forward.
I also found it very healing to develop a practice in a discipline which teaches its students to honor their bodies meaning that whether I can make the same shapes as the instructor or the folks next to me isn't important. It's important that I am listening to what my body says is good for it and I am the only one who can know that for sure. Yoga helped me develop trust in listening to that inner voice. This was healing in both physical and emotional ways because I had struggled with back problems serious enough to send me to a neurosurgeon many years ago. I had limped through various forms of rehabilitation only to have certain health care providers suggest that when I complained of pain it indicated an unwillingness to work on my part.
I kept telling them no, I was experiencing serious pain which was setting me back rather than moving me forward. I hasten to add I worked with great endurance and perseverance to regain the use of my hand and arm after demolishing it eight years ago. It ain't a lack of willingness to work...it was not being shown proper form to have the work be effective rather than harmful. Yoga gave me a sense of proper alignment so I could work in ways which allowed me to increase strength and flexibility while avoiding injury...because I was listening to what my body told me in the process.
In so doing I was empowered to listen more carefully from day to day and even moment to moment. I had teachers who explained that just because I could do a certain pose yesterday didn't mean it would happen today. Conversely, not being able to do something yesterday didn't mean it was beyond reach today. I needed to greet each time on my mat as a new experience, without attachment or expectation. This message became critically important when I was diagnosed with cancer less than six months after beginning a yoga practice. The nature of my health problems created wild swings in my metabolism and energy levels to the extent that it wax impossible to predict how I'd feel on any given day. It was a crash course in advanced listening. Sometimes I'd have to stop in the middle of class and just take a rest while others continued working vigorously. I was ok with that. I was even encouraged when other students said seeing me in a resting pose gave them permission to do the same when they needed it.
Yoga also helped me find a place where I could quiet a restless mind. My mat became the place for dropping out from between my ears and into mindful movement and meditation. Yogic philosophy tells us yoga is not just exercise for the body but a union of breath with movement and the body with the spirit. I found that on my mat. I shed anger with God and people. I found a greater ability to listen to the messages my body was giving me and the still small voice, conscience, God, the universe, whatever you want to call it. It all came together in union as intended. It got me through some dark days and helped me increase health both mental and physical. It made me want to know more and to be able to share it with folks who might want to learn too so I enrolled in the teacher training course.
Teacher training has been at turns, amazing, fulfilling, overwhelming, frustrating, wonderful, inspiring, and infuriating. Two weekends of it have been downright upsetting. This past month's training made me want to burn my mat and never get back on it again. Part of the frustration is due to having to become familiar with styles of yoga which I do not connect to at all, which I find far too physically demanding. Although the message "honor your body" remains the same, that I even have to take a class in a particular style feels dishonoring and yet I have to find a way to learn the style even as I do not push myself to the point of injury. It's a challenging balance to find.
The other aspect, which pushed me over the line recently, was topics which opened up huge trauma triggers for me. Between the physically demanding style I was learning and the distressing topics I felt as if I were losing the safe space my mat has always been. It felt as if my mat were being invaded or usurped, as if I no longer had a right to honor my own body and my own spirit by giving it what it needed. I was wrong, of course, but just like Dorothy had to learn that there's no place like home, I had to be reminded that my mat is MY mat and my practice is MINE.
I am 46 years old. I've come to yoga late in life and after considerable physical trauma. I do not need to have a practice which looks like that of an athletic 20-something. If I do, great. If I don't, that's great too. The point is, I have a practice. It doesn't matter how vigorous or how gentle it is. It matters if I am finding a union of breath and movement, of body, soul, and spirit. It matters if I derive pleasure from my practice and want to engage in it, not whether I can put a foot behind my head or do 62 chaturangas in a vigorous Ashtanga class (I can't do either).
The last training weekend I had damn near every trauma trigger tripped. I was reeling. I was a gaping, open wound sitting in a corner weeping through a class. I was broken and depleted and yet asked for more....which has so often been the story of my life. I was angry because MY mat is not the place for that. MY mat is where I heal from all of that. MY mat is my safe place. I wept because I was afraid I was losing MY mat. Then I remembered, it's MY mat and no one gets to tell me what My practice on MY mat looks like.
I reclaimed my mat by staying off it for two classes. For one class I sat in the corner just working to find my breath while others worked physically difficult poses. For another class I stayed home. When I returned, I went to the class taught in the style that speaks to ME. I worked in the way MY body told me felt right. I dropped out of my ears and into my body working a slow, meditative pace which allowed my mind to find the rest it needed.
When I teach I want to remember to empower my students to listen to themselves on their mats. It will be my job to tell them what they need to know to be safe. What they do with the rest of my instruction is up to them because it is their practice, not mine.
Showing posts with label lessons learned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons learned. Show all posts
Monday, November 10, 2014
Wednesday, January 01, 2014
2013 Surprise 2014
2013 was just full of surprises.
It began with a new job and I have been regularly surprised by what I encounter therein, both in wonderful and horrible ways. I try to hold on to the wonderful and let the horrible slip away, though I have considered writing a book about the experience of running two libraries alone in an urban setting. Don't hold your breath but you never know, I could surprise you...and myself.
It progressed with weight loss I initially thought was proof that diet and exercise were finally paying off. Surprise, it's not good health...it was bad health! Surprise again, it's cancer! Triple surprise, it's such a rare cluster of issues I'm giving my doctors fame and fortune! I'm just exceptionally grateful the surgery and treatment contained no terrible surprises beyond the gastrointestinal effects of ingesting radioactive materials. I'm also deeply grateful for the surprise of where some of my most faithful support came from during the scariest and weakest days.
Throughout the year I had frequent surprises in my new yoga practice. I started looking for physical benefits. I never expected mental and emotional benefits and lessons that would apply to the trials I was enduring. I was surprised to find I progressed further and more quickly than I expected, that I was stronger than I thought I was. I was surprised by how I could walk into class tense and anxious and walk out peaceful. I was stunned utterly to find it could help me learn how to forgive others and myself. And then I was surprised by how quickly it all goes away when I don't keep at it.
The end of the year brought the surprise of all three of the Limelets living at home once again. Mr. Lime and I thought this year it would just be us and Isaac. Surprise! the nest is getting fuller rather than emptying out. However, this brought with it some other surprises in seeing up close how much some have matured...as well as witnessing their surprise at how old rivalries can rear their ugly heads in spite of growth.
It also brought an opportunity for Mr. Lime to meet a long-time blogger buddy and his wife. His willingness to do so was a huge surprise to me. He was fine with me having my freak-in-the-box friends but was also quite happy to keep his own distance. This face-to-face was not only an introduction but an overnight visit to a stranger's house for Mr. Lime. Was he surprised by the normalcy of this couple? Perhaps. I was delighted and a good time was had by all. I believe his openness to the experience was paved by the kindness so many of you showed to us the year Calypso was so seriously ill and further enhanced by knowing how so many of you supported me emotionally through the scary surprises of this year. Again, the good is linked to the bad and would not have been revealed in any other way.
Finally, it brought a resurgence of serious back pain and allergies such as I have not suffered in 30 or more years. I have to admit, I've had a piss-poor reaction to all of this. It was more or less, "Dammit! I had cancer and dealt with that. Don't I get a pass on this shit fer crying out loud???!!" This is the surprise I probably handled the most poorly.
Mr. Lime gave me the truly lovely surprise of a Little Free Library he built from all reclaimed materials to celebrate our 25th anniversary. I admit it, I cried a little. I love that he made a dream come true for under $5. Then he took us away for a weekend of indulgence at a very nice establishment. Surprise, no running water and worse than that, hotel staff who seemed to think we had no cause for complaint about a lack of water when we'd paid several hundred dollars for a single night's accommodation.
I have to admit I was ready to big farewell to 2013. Part of me wanted to hasten it on its way for all the trouble it brought me. But I was surprised when I considered how much growth and blessing came along with those trials. I would not have experienced the good without enduring the bad. They were inextricably linked.
Still I was anxious to get 2014 started well. Weather surprises and back pain had conspired to keep me from yoga class for weeks. I was able to get to an intro class on Monday and planned to start New Year's morning with another class. New Year's Eve night I fell asleep before midnight, set my alarm for early, and slept without pain for the first time in weeks. That was a delightful surprise.
The alarm sounded painfully early and I was tempted to bag off class for the joy of pain free rest. No no, go with health. Get thee to yoga. I rose before anyone else in the house, ate, dressed, and went out to find I was parked in. Surprise! Ok, I can move Mr. Lime's truck. I did so then got in my own car, turned the key and was greeted with the surprise of an unsatisfying click rather than the purr of an engine.
I was utterly deflated. I was disgusted because it was due to my own fault in forgetting to shut off the headlights. I was livid at my plans being thwarted. I proceeded to start my New Year with a temper tantrum, albeit a quiet one so as to not wake others. I may be a toddler but I can be a considerate toddler. I cleaned the kitchen in a quiet furry then sat down to have a great pout. If you want to set your tone for the year in a fabulous way a tantrum followed by a pout is the preferred method. By that time I was fed up with my own stupidity.
Mr. Lime woke up and inquired as to the perplexing state of my dress, the kitchen, and the garage as it all surprised him. I explained and he graciously jumped my car and I was able to get to the second yoga class of the morning. It was a class I wanted to avoid because typically it is at a harder pace than I can usually manage and given that I am still healing from the back issues I thought it would be a bad idea. I did note the theme was going to be "Taming the Ego." I groaned inwardly thinking it meant it would be more physically demanding than usual but determined that I would start taming my own ego by not worrying whether I could keep up or not and just doing what felt right for my own body.
I arrived late and was invited to the very front of the class. I declined that offer and set up way in the back. We were exhorted to welcome all the 2014 had in store for us, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Being as slow to learn and as stubborn as I am I thought, "Hell no! I've had enough bad and ugly. Only the good is welcome in 2014!" Class progressed and surprise, surprise it was not at the normal heart thumping pace. It was designed to be slower and more meditative though still challenging physically, to be sure.
In long-held strength poses we were encouraged to welcome the pain with the thought that we are still standing, it's not killing us. I thought back to 2013's pain and ugly and how it had not killed me though it literally could have. Perhaps I could consider welcoming whatever the coming year had in store for me without knowing what that was.
Near the end of class the playlist included Don't Fear the Reaper. I laughed. I was ready. I claimed this song and made it mine when I was going through cancer treatment. It came on the radio during one of the long drives to the hospital. At first I thought it was a ghastly harbinger. I decided it wasn't. It meant I had a choice as to whether I embraced fear or fullness of life. And, surprise, in this class, the one I wanted to avoid, I was finding the peace and health I needed in the time I needed it.
Yep, I can be the slowest to learn, the most stubborn student. As much as I want to tell 2014 it's only welcome to bless me I think I am beginning to learn it will brings whatever it brings. It's up to me to make or find the blessings. Bring it on.
It began with a new job and I have been regularly surprised by what I encounter therein, both in wonderful and horrible ways. I try to hold on to the wonderful and let the horrible slip away, though I have considered writing a book about the experience of running two libraries alone in an urban setting. Don't hold your breath but you never know, I could surprise you...and myself.
It progressed with weight loss I initially thought was proof that diet and exercise were finally paying off. Surprise, it's not good health...it was bad health! Surprise again, it's cancer! Triple surprise, it's such a rare cluster of issues I'm giving my doctors fame and fortune! I'm just exceptionally grateful the surgery and treatment contained no terrible surprises beyond the gastrointestinal effects of ingesting radioactive materials. I'm also deeply grateful for the surprise of where some of my most faithful support came from during the scariest and weakest days.
Throughout the year I had frequent surprises in my new yoga practice. I started looking for physical benefits. I never expected mental and emotional benefits and lessons that would apply to the trials I was enduring. I was surprised to find I progressed further and more quickly than I expected, that I was stronger than I thought I was. I was surprised by how I could walk into class tense and anxious and walk out peaceful. I was stunned utterly to find it could help me learn how to forgive others and myself. And then I was surprised by how quickly it all goes away when I don't keep at it.
The end of the year brought the surprise of all three of the Limelets living at home once again. Mr. Lime and I thought this year it would just be us and Isaac. Surprise! the nest is getting fuller rather than emptying out. However, this brought with it some other surprises in seeing up close how much some have matured...as well as witnessing their surprise at how old rivalries can rear their ugly heads in spite of growth.
It also brought an opportunity for Mr. Lime to meet a long-time blogger buddy and his wife. His willingness to do so was a huge surprise to me. He was fine with me having my freak-in-the-box friends but was also quite happy to keep his own distance. This face-to-face was not only an introduction but an overnight visit to a stranger's house for Mr. Lime. Was he surprised by the normalcy of this couple? Perhaps. I was delighted and a good time was had by all. I believe his openness to the experience was paved by the kindness so many of you showed to us the year Calypso was so seriously ill and further enhanced by knowing how so many of you supported me emotionally through the scary surprises of this year. Again, the good is linked to the bad and would not have been revealed in any other way.
Finally, it brought a resurgence of serious back pain and allergies such as I have not suffered in 30 or more years. I have to admit, I've had a piss-poor reaction to all of this. It was more or less, "Dammit! I had cancer and dealt with that. Don't I get a pass on this shit fer crying out loud???!!" This is the surprise I probably handled the most poorly.
 |
| Ready to paint, the library...not the spouse. |
I have to admit I was ready to big farewell to 2013. Part of me wanted to hasten it on its way for all the trouble it brought me. But I was surprised when I considered how much growth and blessing came along with those trials. I would not have experienced the good without enduring the bad. They were inextricably linked.
Still I was anxious to get 2014 started well. Weather surprises and back pain had conspired to keep me from yoga class for weeks. I was able to get to an intro class on Monday and planned to start New Year's morning with another class. New Year's Eve night I fell asleep before midnight, set my alarm for early, and slept without pain for the first time in weeks. That was a delightful surprise.
The alarm sounded painfully early and I was tempted to bag off class for the joy of pain free rest. No no, go with health. Get thee to yoga. I rose before anyone else in the house, ate, dressed, and went out to find I was parked in. Surprise! Ok, I can move Mr. Lime's truck. I did so then got in my own car, turned the key and was greeted with the surprise of an unsatisfying click rather than the purr of an engine.
I was utterly deflated. I was disgusted because it was due to my own fault in forgetting to shut off the headlights. I was livid at my plans being thwarted. I proceeded to start my New Year with a temper tantrum, albeit a quiet one so as to not wake others. I may be a toddler but I can be a considerate toddler. I cleaned the kitchen in a quiet furry then sat down to have a great pout. If you want to set your tone for the year in a fabulous way a tantrum followed by a pout is the preferred method. By that time I was fed up with my own stupidity.
Mr. Lime woke up and inquired as to the perplexing state of my dress, the kitchen, and the garage as it all surprised him. I explained and he graciously jumped my car and I was able to get to the second yoga class of the morning. It was a class I wanted to avoid because typically it is at a harder pace than I can usually manage and given that I am still healing from the back issues I thought it would be a bad idea. I did note the theme was going to be "Taming the Ego." I groaned inwardly thinking it meant it would be more physically demanding than usual but determined that I would start taming my own ego by not worrying whether I could keep up or not and just doing what felt right for my own body.
I arrived late and was invited to the very front of the class. I declined that offer and set up way in the back. We were exhorted to welcome all the 2014 had in store for us, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Being as slow to learn and as stubborn as I am I thought, "Hell no! I've had enough bad and ugly. Only the good is welcome in 2014!" Class progressed and surprise, surprise it was not at the normal heart thumping pace. It was designed to be slower and more meditative though still challenging physically, to be sure.
In long-held strength poses we were encouraged to welcome the pain with the thought that we are still standing, it's not killing us. I thought back to 2013's pain and ugly and how it had not killed me though it literally could have. Perhaps I could consider welcoming whatever the coming year had in store for me without knowing what that was.
Near the end of class the playlist included Don't Fear the Reaper. I laughed. I was ready. I claimed this song and made it mine when I was going through cancer treatment. It came on the radio during one of the long drives to the hospital. At first I thought it was a ghastly harbinger. I decided it wasn't. It meant I had a choice as to whether I embraced fear or fullness of life. And, surprise, in this class, the one I wanted to avoid, I was finding the peace and health I needed in the time I needed it.
Yep, I can be the slowest to learn, the most stubborn student. As much as I want to tell 2014 it's only welcome to bless me I think I am beginning to learn it will brings whatever it brings. It's up to me to make or find the blessings. Bring it on.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
The Lessons in Bicycles-Part 1
Last Autumn Isaac bought a new bike with his birthday money. He had gone a while without his own because he was growing so fast we didn't want to invest in one he might quickly outgrow. He and Mr. Lime shared Mr. Lime's bike. Mr. Lime has been an avid cyclist his entire adult life and for the six months he was without a driver's license last year he relied heavily upon his bike to get around. Since Isaac wants to be mobile but doesn't have a driver's license he is finding a bike gives him all sorts of independence. Watching them makes me think back to how my bicycle gave me freedom I needed as a kid...and more.
When I was six my parents split up and my mom moved us to town. Before that we lived rurally and I just rode around in the driveway with my training wheels. In town we had an alley behind the house and I quickly found out from neighborhood kids it was expected a six year old could go without training wheels. I asked to learn. Mom, however, was overwhelmed with just trying to put food on the table and then she got sick and spent considerable time on bed rest. Teaching me to learn to ride a two-wheeler was understandably not high on the list. A birthday passed and I was still pedaling around on training wheels, and being teased for it.
In my neighborhood there was an assortment of kids who were around my age. Twin boys and their toddler sister were next door. A boy a couple years older, who was the most merciless tormentor, lived on the corner. My best friend was directly across the back alley. Another girl lived at the other end of the street. In the middle of the street was a rental property which seemed to have a frequently revolving set of inhabitants. At the time I was wanting very much to ride, that house had a family with a few kids. Among them was a girl a year older than I was, who was obviously developmentally delayed.
One day I was pedaling up and down the alley with my best friend and the delayed girl. We were having a fine time until the tormentor showed up. Immediately he began picking on me for still using training wheels. I felt my face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. For whatever reason he didn't stick around long. Nonetheless, my revelry of riding with friends had been broken and even after he had gone I was still feeling beaten down. My best friend told me to ignore what he had said but I was sick of not being able to ride a two-wheeler. After all, I was the only school-aged kid in the neighborhood still with training wheels.
I bemoaned not having my dad around to teach me and having a mom who was too busy or sick to teach me. At hearing this, the delayed girl perked up and said she could teach me how to ride. Colored by my own bias toward her ability to teach and my own doubts about my ability to learn, I continued to whine about my lot in life. She was undaunted and insisted she could teach me. I saw a real earnestness in her eyes and it engendered enough trust that I was willing to give it a try. What was the worst that would happen...I'd fall over and get a scraped knee? No big deal, my legs were constantly scraped and bruised from tree climbing, tag, and various other outdoor activities anyway.
The problem was getting the training wheels off so she could teach me. I didn't know how to do that. Again, she had the solution and knelt down to loosen the wing nuts holding them on. Voila! No more training wheels! I was a bit nervous now. There would be no turning back. Given that my teacher was a child herself I am not entirely sure how she managed helping me balance while she got me started again and again but she did. All along the way she gave words of encouragement. Eventually she said she was going to just give me a shove and I was to pedal myself. I wobbled a bit and regained my balance as I pedaled the length of the alley while listening to her cheers fade in the distance before she ran down to meet me and help me get started again. Before long I was getting myself started and stopped.
I was elated to finally be rid of my training wheels and overwhelmingly grateful to this girl for helping me. My "teacher" was called home for dinner but before she went I thanked her profusely for teaching me how to ride and told her I was sorry I didn't initially believe she could teach me. She just smiled and told me I did a good job like she knew I would.
She didn't know it and at the time I didn't have the words for it but she taught me much more than how to ride a bike, which was significant enough in my young mind. She taught me to stop whining and start learning. She taught me not to listen to people who want to tear you down but to the ones who want to build you up. She taught me that even the people you think have very little to offer can have exactly what you need as well as the grace to give it to you generously...if you have the grace to receive it humbly. Her family moved away not long after that but I still think of her when I see a little kid having training wheels removed. And I smile in gratitude.
When I was six my parents split up and my mom moved us to town. Before that we lived rurally and I just rode around in the driveway with my training wheels. In town we had an alley behind the house and I quickly found out from neighborhood kids it was expected a six year old could go without training wheels. I asked to learn. Mom, however, was overwhelmed with just trying to put food on the table and then she got sick and spent considerable time on bed rest. Teaching me to learn to ride a two-wheeler was understandably not high on the list. A birthday passed and I was still pedaling around on training wheels, and being teased for it.
In my neighborhood there was an assortment of kids who were around my age. Twin boys and their toddler sister were next door. A boy a couple years older, who was the most merciless tormentor, lived on the corner. My best friend was directly across the back alley. Another girl lived at the other end of the street. In the middle of the street was a rental property which seemed to have a frequently revolving set of inhabitants. At the time I was wanting very much to ride, that house had a family with a few kids. Among them was a girl a year older than I was, who was obviously developmentally delayed.
One day I was pedaling up and down the alley with my best friend and the delayed girl. We were having a fine time until the tormentor showed up. Immediately he began picking on me for still using training wheels. I felt my face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. For whatever reason he didn't stick around long. Nonetheless, my revelry of riding with friends had been broken and even after he had gone I was still feeling beaten down. My best friend told me to ignore what he had said but I was sick of not being able to ride a two-wheeler. After all, I was the only school-aged kid in the neighborhood still with training wheels.
I bemoaned not having my dad around to teach me and having a mom who was too busy or sick to teach me. At hearing this, the delayed girl perked up and said she could teach me how to ride. Colored by my own bias toward her ability to teach and my own doubts about my ability to learn, I continued to whine about my lot in life. She was undaunted and insisted she could teach me. I saw a real earnestness in her eyes and it engendered enough trust that I was willing to give it a try. What was the worst that would happen...I'd fall over and get a scraped knee? No big deal, my legs were constantly scraped and bruised from tree climbing, tag, and various other outdoor activities anyway.
The problem was getting the training wheels off so she could teach me. I didn't know how to do that. Again, she had the solution and knelt down to loosen the wing nuts holding them on. Voila! No more training wheels! I was a bit nervous now. There would be no turning back. Given that my teacher was a child herself I am not entirely sure how she managed helping me balance while she got me started again and again but she did. All along the way she gave words of encouragement. Eventually she said she was going to just give me a shove and I was to pedal myself. I wobbled a bit and regained my balance as I pedaled the length of the alley while listening to her cheers fade in the distance before she ran down to meet me and help me get started again. Before long I was getting myself started and stopped.
I was elated to finally be rid of my training wheels and overwhelmingly grateful to this girl for helping me. My "teacher" was called home for dinner but before she went I thanked her profusely for teaching me how to ride and told her I was sorry I didn't initially believe she could teach me. She just smiled and told me I did a good job like she knew I would.
She didn't know it and at the time I didn't have the words for it but she taught me much more than how to ride a bike, which was significant enough in my young mind. She taught me to stop whining and start learning. She taught me not to listen to people who want to tear you down but to the ones who want to build you up. She taught me that even the people you think have very little to offer can have exactly what you need as well as the grace to give it to you generously...if you have the grace to receive it humbly. Her family moved away not long after that but I still think of her when I see a little kid having training wheels removed. And I smile in gratitude.
Monday, February 14, 2011
A Friend in Need
Dear Calypso,
Your last many months have not been especially pleasant. You've spent a lot of time feeling sick, having no energy, wondering when you will feel well again. You've persevered through it all and managed to keep up in school for the most part. Even if the report card doesn't say so you've got straight A's for effort alone in my book. I know the effort required to get through school depletes most of your energy. You've missed out on a lot of socializing simply because of how rotten you feel so frequently. For an out-going girl like you that's a hard thing, especially for your senior year.
To add insult to injury you've had a couple of long-time friends turn their backs on you. They've been people to whom you've given yourself repeatedly when they had times of trial in their lives. You've listened and consoled when they needed it. Sadly, they have chosen not to reciprocate in your time of trial. While that's disappointing enough the insensitivity toward you and downright ugliness has been the bitterest of pills. I know it's painful for you. It's been painful for me to watch. Unfortunately, this is how life is sometimes. It's not always fair and people can disappoint.
After you've dried the tears it's time to move on. If someone is consistently cruel at a time when your greatest need is kindness and they ultimately tell you they don't want to be around you, you're better off without them. Truly. Let them go. It's making room in your life for people who are kinder and more faithful. You haven't lost anything of value because in reality you didn't have it to begin with. The difficult circumstances in life merely revealed true character and the quality (or lack thereof) of a relationship.
Likewise, this time in your life is revealing your character and the character of others. Just as the fair weather friends are flying away on the gusts of wind, the true ones (few though they may be) are showing how deep their roots are and how immovable their affection and concern are. Those are the relationships to nurture. Those are the friends to treasure. Hold them close in your heart and let it make you glad rather than holding the pain caused by false friends. Count yourself blessed to know the friends who remain are proved true.
Love always,
Mom
Your last many months have not been especially pleasant. You've spent a lot of time feeling sick, having no energy, wondering when you will feel well again. You've persevered through it all and managed to keep up in school for the most part. Even if the report card doesn't say so you've got straight A's for effort alone in my book. I know the effort required to get through school depletes most of your energy. You've missed out on a lot of socializing simply because of how rotten you feel so frequently. For an out-going girl like you that's a hard thing, especially for your senior year.
To add insult to injury you've had a couple of long-time friends turn their backs on you. They've been people to whom you've given yourself repeatedly when they had times of trial in their lives. You've listened and consoled when they needed it. Sadly, they have chosen not to reciprocate in your time of trial. While that's disappointing enough the insensitivity toward you and downright ugliness has been the bitterest of pills. I know it's painful for you. It's been painful for me to watch. Unfortunately, this is how life is sometimes. It's not always fair and people can disappoint.
After you've dried the tears it's time to move on. If someone is consistently cruel at a time when your greatest need is kindness and they ultimately tell you they don't want to be around you, you're better off without them. Truly. Let them go. It's making room in your life for people who are kinder and more faithful. You haven't lost anything of value because in reality you didn't have it to begin with. The difficult circumstances in life merely revealed true character and the quality (or lack thereof) of a relationship.
Likewise, this time in your life is revealing your character and the character of others. Just as the fair weather friends are flying away on the gusts of wind, the true ones (few though they may be) are showing how deep their roots are and how immovable their affection and concern are. Those are the relationships to nurture. Those are the friends to treasure. Hold them close in your heart and let it make you glad rather than holding the pain caused by false friends. Count yourself blessed to know the friends who remain are proved true.
Love always,
Mom
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Weekend to Remember
It was November and Grampop had left the world six weeks earlier. Three weeks after he died I turned 13. He was the man who took me on hikes in the deep woods. He made up Indian names for each one of us, taught us about the animals, told us the local history and legends. He taught me how to fish, shoot a gun, use a bow and arrow, and row a boat. In spite of those more boyish pursuits I was always his "Princess." He was the only one who could call me that because I knew he didn't mean the ball gown and glass slipper type but the buckskin and moccasin type (even though he made sure I had a steady supply of white patent leather go-go boots as I was growing up). He showed me the fun in sitting to watch the deer and bears come forage for food. He showed me how to get a chipmunk to eat from my hand. I watched him feed wild song birds from his hands. He's the only person I ever knew who could manage that. He also had his own repertoire of silly songs he'd sing on the long drive up and back. I was missing him terribly that weekend.
This fun took place in the musty old trailer (and environs) he and Nana had in the mountains for weekend escapes. It wasn't much to look at but that place was a haven for me. Right next door was a somewhat newer trailer my great aunt and uncle owned for similar purposes. Nana and I were making our first escape since Grampop had left us. She told me I was welcome to invite a friend for the first time. I think she may have figured we'd both feel kind of lost with out Grampop and maybe need the distraction.
I asked Patti to come along. I had only known her since we both moved up to 7th grade in September. The girl who had been my best friend since 2nd grade had dropped me rather abruptly once we moved up to the Junior High School. Thirteen is such an awkward age to begin with. I was devastated when Grampop died and stinging from my friend's rejection. Patti seemed as unsure as I felt but she also seemed genuinely nice and we got along well. I was glad when her mom said she could come along to "the mountains."
Nana pretty much trusted us to wander around the whole wide woods by ourselves because I knew where I was going. I took Patti on all our old trails. She couldn't believe how deep into the woods we were allowed to go. I pulled out the BB gun and set up the tin cans (Nana said no to the .22 that weekend). Patti thought we were like Annie Oakley knocking them down. I showed her how to get the chipmunks to take a peanut out of her hand. She decided she'd rather watch them eat from my hand in case they wanted to nip her fingers.
Then I asked Nana if we could go to the lake and take the row boat out. I had never been allowed to take the row boat without an adult before. Nana shocked me by saying we could go by ourselves. I didn't wait around for her to change her mind. I grabbed Patti by the arm and all but dragged her as we practically ran the mile to the lake. I plopped a life vest around her neck and tied her into it before having her plunk down in the boat as I shoved it out into the water as fast as I could. I got us about halfway out to the little island in the middle of the lake before I noticed the slightly terrified look on Patti's face. I asked her if she was alright. She nodded kind of tentatively but wasn't very convincing. I asked again before she confessed that she was a little frightened because she didn't know how to swim and her mother never let her anywhere near water. I asked her if she wanted to go back because I felt bad for never really asking if she wanted to go in the first place. She thought about it for a minute and asked about the safety of the situation. I read her the safety rating on the life vest, showed her how shallow the water actually was by poking one of the oars down to the mud and still having part of it above water, and made her promise not to stand up in the boat except when and where I told her to. She asked excitedly, "Can we go over to that island and look around?" When I told her that was part of the plan all the time she grinned broadly in great anticipation. We had a ball and after checking out the island she asked me to teach her how to row the boat. She couldn't get over being able to get us from the island back to shore by herself.
We went to bed that night gabbing about all the day's adventures and how she felt so liberated by being able to do so much exploring. As we relaxed I started sharing my broken heart over my grandfather's death other friend's rejection. Patti listened and provided true comfort which left my soul feeling freer. She shared wisdom and truth with me in a clear way no adult had been able or willing to do. She learned from me how to feel stronger and more confident in the physical world. I learned from her how to begin finding comfort and strength in a spiritual world. A lifetime later in the slanting golden light of early November, when I see the trees with only a few brown leaves clinging tenaciously to branches, when I see the early frost on dried stalks of wildflowers and corn, and when I hear the chill wind whisper of impending winter I remember how after one death came a new awareness of life and hope in living it.
This fun took place in the musty old trailer (and environs) he and Nana had in the mountains for weekend escapes. It wasn't much to look at but that place was a haven for me. Right next door was a somewhat newer trailer my great aunt and uncle owned for similar purposes. Nana and I were making our first escape since Grampop had left us. She told me I was welcome to invite a friend for the first time. I think she may have figured we'd both feel kind of lost with out Grampop and maybe need the distraction.
I asked Patti to come along. I had only known her since we both moved up to 7th grade in September. The girl who had been my best friend since 2nd grade had dropped me rather abruptly once we moved up to the Junior High School. Thirteen is such an awkward age to begin with. I was devastated when Grampop died and stinging from my friend's rejection. Patti seemed as unsure as I felt but she also seemed genuinely nice and we got along well. I was glad when her mom said she could come along to "the mountains."
Nana pretty much trusted us to wander around the whole wide woods by ourselves because I knew where I was going. I took Patti on all our old trails. She couldn't believe how deep into the woods we were allowed to go. I pulled out the BB gun and set up the tin cans (Nana said no to the .22 that weekend). Patti thought we were like Annie Oakley knocking them down. I showed her how to get the chipmunks to take a peanut out of her hand. She decided she'd rather watch them eat from my hand in case they wanted to nip her fingers.
Then I asked Nana if we could go to the lake and take the row boat out. I had never been allowed to take the row boat without an adult before. Nana shocked me by saying we could go by ourselves. I didn't wait around for her to change her mind. I grabbed Patti by the arm and all but dragged her as we practically ran the mile to the lake. I plopped a life vest around her neck and tied her into it before having her plunk down in the boat as I shoved it out into the water as fast as I could. I got us about halfway out to the little island in the middle of the lake before I noticed the slightly terrified look on Patti's face. I asked her if she was alright. She nodded kind of tentatively but wasn't very convincing. I asked again before she confessed that she was a little frightened because she didn't know how to swim and her mother never let her anywhere near water. I asked her if she wanted to go back because I felt bad for never really asking if she wanted to go in the first place. She thought about it for a minute and asked about the safety of the situation. I read her the safety rating on the life vest, showed her how shallow the water actually was by poking one of the oars down to the mud and still having part of it above water, and made her promise not to stand up in the boat except when and where I told her to. She asked excitedly, "Can we go over to that island and look around?" When I told her that was part of the plan all the time she grinned broadly in great anticipation. We had a ball and after checking out the island she asked me to teach her how to row the boat. She couldn't get over being able to get us from the island back to shore by herself.
We went to bed that night gabbing about all the day's adventures and how she felt so liberated by being able to do so much exploring. As we relaxed I started sharing my broken heart over my grandfather's death other friend's rejection. Patti listened and provided true comfort which left my soul feeling freer. She shared wisdom and truth with me in a clear way no adult had been able or willing to do. She learned from me how to feel stronger and more confident in the physical world. I learned from her how to begin finding comfort and strength in a spiritual world. A lifetime later in the slanting golden light of early November, when I see the trees with only a few brown leaves clinging tenaciously to branches, when I see the early frost on dried stalks of wildflowers and corn, and when I hear the chill wind whisper of impending winter I remember how after one death came a new awareness of life and hope in living it.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Slice of Lime-A Quiet Spot
Yesterday was not a good day around here. The last few days have brought more frustrations and unwelcome news. I'll spare all the details. I'm just not in the mood and I'd probably wind up saying some very nasty things. Among all the other crap, yesterday I found out I didn't get the job. I had a lovely little pity party for myself. There was crying and a refusal to be consoled. I bet you're sorry you missed it. I was asked what the next step is and I said there is none because every time I take one forward lately I get knocked back six steps. I loose less ground by refusing to advance. Really, it was my finest hour. Later my cousin called and listened to me cry the blues. After that she told me to rehydrate and take a walk. Those seemed like manageable steps so I took them.
I'm told some folks are ocean people and some are mountain people. Personally, I rather like the parts of the California coast where ocean and mountains met, best of both worlds and all. But I grew up escaping to the low mountains of the East Coast and I still find comfort in them. A forest cut by running water is about perfect to me. The ocean and the plains have their own magic but they don't comfort me when I feel beaten. They make me feel exposed. The forest lets me slip away quietly among the trees to find a quiet spot where I can hide for a bit.
I went to the woods because trees are good listeners too. They don't judge you. Somehow even the ones that tower over you don't make you feel small in a shameful sort of way. They spread out their branches as if to shield you from too hot sun or too heavy rain. They whisper softly. I didn't go planning anything other than to wander a while and sit but there was solace and wisdom there. I thought it would be better to share that than to continue my whining. I pulled out my camera phone to do so, so excuse the poor picture quality.
The old hemlocks suggest it's time to stand. Here's a hand. Get up now. Walk among my friends. It's been a while since we had a visitor. We're glad you came.
But I've fallen and I can't get up.
Holler for help if you have to.
Sometimes you'll grow crooked before you grow straight but you do what you must to get the water and light you need to live.
Your support system might look at bit odd to others but if it keeps you standing that's the important part.
It would be nice to have someone to walk with you on the trail but they won't always be either patient enough or energetic enough to go at your pace. Sometimes you have to walk by yourself.
Eventually, you'll have to make some choices.
You can't sit in one spot forever unless you want a moss covered butt.
I'm told some folks are ocean people and some are mountain people. Personally, I rather like the parts of the California coast where ocean and mountains met, best of both worlds and all. But I grew up escaping to the low mountains of the East Coast and I still find comfort in them. A forest cut by running water is about perfect to me. The ocean and the plains have their own magic but they don't comfort me when I feel beaten. They make me feel exposed. The forest lets me slip away quietly among the trees to find a quiet spot where I can hide for a bit.
I went to the woods because trees are good listeners too. They don't judge you. Somehow even the ones that tower over you don't make you feel small in a shameful sort of way. They spread out their branches as if to shield you from too hot sun or too heavy rain. They whisper softly. I didn't go planning anything other than to wander a while and sit but there was solace and wisdom there. I thought it would be better to share that than to continue my whining. I pulled out my camera phone to do so, so excuse the poor picture quality.
The quiet spot. Well, ok, the water just drowns out the nearby highway noises. Good enough for me.
I can think. No interruptions. No demands. Just sit and listen and think. Wallow a little if needed. I told you, trees don't judge.
The old hemlocks suggest it's time to stand. Here's a hand. Get up now. Walk among my friends. It's been a while since we had a visitor. We're glad you came.
But I've fallen and I can't get up.
Holler for help if you have to.
Sometimes you'll grow crooked before you grow straight but you do what you must to get the water and light you need to live.
Your support system might look at bit odd to others but if it keeps you standing that's the important part.
It would be nice to have someone to walk with you on the trail but they won't always be either patient enough or energetic enough to go at your pace. Sometimes you have to walk by yourself.
Eventually, you'll have to make some choices.
You can't sit in one spot forever unless you want a moss covered butt.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Quilts on Tuesday-Getting Started
Some time ago I mentioned I was going to attempt making a full-sized quilt for the first time in my life. It is to be for Diana to take with her to college. At one point she said she was not terribly concerned about the design so long as the quilt was flannel. That worked out well for me as a mere novice since it means I can get away with making her a rag quilt. Rag quilts have exposed, frayed seams and seem to be a fairly forgiving form. Her design will be made entirely of squares so I won't have to drive myself bonkers making triangles and other odd shapes meet up exactly.The trick was finding enough flannel in enough colors to go with the design I intend to do. I
adapted this for a larger quilt. My mom plugged it into her jazzy quilt software which calculates yardages and then off we went to find flannel. Neither of the fabric stores in my town had anything close to an adequate selection of flannels unless I wanted cutsie baby patterns or matronly Victorian designs. Mom and I did some scouting and found some nice yard-dyed plaids at a place about halfway between where we each live. So my first lesson was in the difficulty procuring what you really want. My next lesson was in the astonishing cost of fabrics. Mom went halvsies with my on the fabric since it was a fair amount more than I expected and I didn't really have any other ideas for Diana's Christmas present. Here's the haul. The three plaids will make up the top of the quilt. The three solid colors will be the back. The white flannel, which is a king size set of flannel sheets I found on sale for $20 (woohoo! doing the great bargain dance...waaaaay cheaper than a comparable amount of yardage off a bolt) will be the center layer of the flannel "sandwiches" which will make up each square.
Now I had to get to work cutting squares. I realize some of my readers are quilters but for those who aren't let me explain the tools. I have a big cutting board with measurements on it and that odd looking ruler/straight edge, also with measurement markings. This all makes it easy to line up the fabric and cut accurately sized shapes. For small projects I have an ordinary clear ruler/straight edge and use a separate cutter that looks sort of like a pizza slicer. For this project, since I knew I had thick fabric to cut through and more of it than I have ever done before I was a little concerned about how Janita (my once demolished but now mostly recovered left hand/arm) would hold up. This new gadget has the blade attached to the ruler so I couldn't accidentally veer off and miscut. Given how much I spent on the fabric I thought that might be a worthy investment to help prevent some fatigue for Janita and costly mistakes as a result. It worked pretty well in the manner I hoped. Lesson 3, however, was in the old adage "Measure twice, cut once." Uh yeah, I mismeasured a few strips and cut them too small. Fortunately, I had enough extra fabric to cover my mistakes. Once the strips were cut I just sliced them into squares.Here we see 2oo 6 inches squares of flannel cut
from 2 of the fabrics. I only have 300 more 6 inch squares to cut and 100 11 inch squares to cut. Then the sewing begins. Stayed tuned to see how long it takes me to get all this done and how many more lessons I have to learn.
Finally, I leave you with a picture that is somewhat symbolic of how this project feels a little like a mountain to scale. I'm realizing how much work it will be and I'm a little nervous but also excited and anxious to look down from the summit of completion and say, "I did that!"
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