I had a great conversation in my Yoga Lounge tonight after the Gentle Stretch class. One of my students, Frank, told me that after watching a particularly distasteful video of a policeman spraying a woman in the face with pepper spray in NYC at the Occupy Wall St. demonstration, he decided that he had to […]
Inspiration Location
Category: Inspiring people
Image | October 6, 2011
Today there was this thing by The Onion called “The Last American Who Knew What The Fuck He Was Doing Dies.” Although The Onion is devoted to satire, this little piece wasn’t really satiric. It was supposed to be, I’m sure, but it sounded like hard reality. What it said that resonated for me was […]
Image | October 2, 2011
Today we (G and I) attended a brunch to celebrate the new marriage and the the 30 year anniversary of two of our best friends, Zee and Marty. The food was delicious, the company was sparkling, but what touched me the most about the whole day (and so many things touched me) was when Zee […]
Image | October 1, 2011
Predictably, I am posting today. Why? Because it’s the first of the month, that’s why! New Beginning! Fresh Slate! (oh geez. how many times have I done this?) There is also some kind of contest thingy called Post a Day(?), or something, going on at BlogHer too, and because I am a sucker for that […]
March 6, 2011
750 Words Freakout– Reconsidered
I was all in a dither yesterday because 750 words went on the blink. I kept pushing “force save” and cursing and gnashing my teeth and getting up from the chair, then sitting down again, checking every 2 minutes to see if the site had saved my words.
I was freaking because my streak of 95 days was in jeopardy. The site refused to save any of my words after 748, and if you don’t get to 750 words, your day doesn’t count.
Yesterday would have been Day 95, today, Day 96, and on Day 100 (this coming Thursday) I would have earned my Phoenix Badge (!!)
Here’s a picture of all the badges I have so far:
750 Words Screenshot
Pretty impressive, no? (Yeah. I know. I is da bomb.)
Thing is, I am ridiculously and shamelessly motivated by these stupid badges. Stickers, badges, stars on spelling tests, trophies, plastic Beethoven statuettes–you name it, if there is a little prize to be had, no matter how cheesy, worthless and meaningless, I will go after it, doggedly.
So, yesterday, after sitting all morning fretting about my lost Phoenix badge, I finally gave up trying to make the computer do the right thing, and drove to Wegmans for my weekly food shopping.
On the drive I pondered long and hard this fixation with doodads. Didn’t I subscribe (at least in theory) to the Zen concept of “detachment from outcomes” and to doing a thing “for its own sake”? Isn’t this a central tenant of the Bhagavad Gita, of Pantajali’s Yoga Sutras, of every wisdom tradition known to man?
So what if my words didn’t “count”? I wrote them. I know the streak is intact. I know I did the work every day. I know I am becoming a better writer as a result of daily practice, as a result of the site. What do I care if the site stutters? What do I care if there is an algorithmic tic that stops counting at 748 words? I wrote over 900 words that day. That’s all that matters.
When I got home I sat down and wrote a note of thanks to the creator of the site, Buster Benson. He does this site for nothing. Doesn’t charge a penny. And most of the time, the system works flawlessly. On the site’s status page it says that Buster knows about the glitch and is trying to fix it and will make it right with anyone who’s streak got messed up.
Aww… What a guy. But even if he can’t fix it, and my “streak” comes to an end, I’ll be there tomorrow morning, writing my words. I’ll just rename the site 748 words and…problem solved!
As for the badges? Eh. I don’t need them anymore. They’re cute and all, but they’re not real. They’re just little pictures on a screen. But my words–ahhhh, those represent my thoughts, my inner landscape, the workings of my mind. And to get into the habit of visiting that country daily, and create relationships with those inhabitants, now that’s the whole point of 750 words.
Thanks, Buster.
November 1, 2010
November One-to-One
Image via Wikipedia
This past weekend we took a fun + business-y little over-nighter trip to Rochester. I had an appointment on Saturday at the Apple store for a lesson on podcasting.
People have asked me from time to time to make a yoga CD that they can use at home when they can’t get to class. I like that idea, but I like the idea of podcasts better because they are easier, they can be short and sweet, and I can change up the routines all the time. Unlike a CD which has only one workout, with podcasts my students can have access to lots of “mini” classes. And best of all, I can offer them for free.
When I bought my Mac just about a year ago, I was really nervous about transitioning from years of working with PCs. Turns out there was nothing to worry about. And although I am sure I am not exploiting all the wonders of my MacBook Pro, I’m definitely getting there.
The guy at Apple who gave me my “One on One” lesson was great. Not only did he know the program (Garage Band) but he knew how to teach it to me.
That’s a really important distinction, too, because a person can be the most talented programmer, or guitar player, or chess master in the world and not know thing one about how to teach that skill to another person.
In order to teach, you have to know how to break the material down into easily digestible bites so your student can absorb it. Otherwise he or she will just sit there being wowed by how much YOU know about your instrument or whatever, but never learn how to do it, or play it herself.
Because of the excellent teaching of Brian, I think I can actually do a podcast now. And it was fun learning!
And speaking of “digestible bites,” we took a little “time-out” from The Cleanse while we were away. We had our usual big meal at lunch time at P.F.Chang‘s, a Chinese place, where we really didn’t go off the plan at all, but then at The Bonefish Grill we had wine with dinner, and then dessert. It tasted really good, and best all there were no gastrointestinal repercussions afterwards.
The official end of the cleanse is this Friday, but I will probably continue with it. I feel like an old pro at this now. By the middle of last week, I was feeling absolutely no cravings for anything and I was just starting to see results in the mirror. It feels stupid to quit now, just at the beginning of the “dramatic results.”
One thing I have learned this time through Clean is that if I want to see dramatic results in my body, I have to strength train. No two ways about it. Must be done. My fancy scale is showing a significant weight drop, but my body fat percentage hasn’t moved at all.
That’s gotta change. I have to stop crying whenever I so much as think about lifting. Why does lifting weights make me feel like I’m being unfairly punished?? I need to get to the bottom of that one. Quick!
October 13, 2010
Buried Things Can Be Rescued
I spent most of the morning glued to CNN watching the miners (#11-14) get rescued. Could not get enough of it. Was completely entranced, fascinated, touched, and thrilled by the whole spectacle.
I cannot imagine a worse fate than being buried alive 2,000 feet under the ground.
But I am ashamed in the face of this, to admit that there have been times when I have said about my own life that it felt as if I were buried alive.
But haven’t we all? Haven’t we all, at one time or another, felt overwhelmed, to the point where we needed to be rescued?
And how about taking this one step further. Haven’t we all felt that there were things that, for whatever reason, we felt unable to deal with so we just pushed them down deep and buried them alive?
And what about those nagging thoughts or intuitions about not living up to our potential, or using our talents, or following our dreams?
I know I was born with the potential to do more than I am doing with my one wild and precious life. I know I have sleeping talents and abilities that have never been allowed to awaken because I’ve been either too lazy or too afraid to let them loose. I hear their cries and see their SOS signals but turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to them.
I drown them out with blather about being “too busy,” and having too much”work” and needing to tick items off the “things-to-do lists”, or being “too old.” And I do it mainly because I think I don’t know how to rescue them.
(But I do.)
I heard the guy responsible for the drilling operation say that it was “Plan B” that worked. They couldn’t drill hard and aggressively because that would have dislodged big pieces of rock and collapsed the chute. And they couldn’t drill too slowly either, because that would have worn down the drill bits. They had to find just the right speed. They needed to work very carefully, very slowly and very persistently.
And they did. And it worked.
(As I am sitting here writing, the last miner has just been brought to the surface!)
As they came up all day, one by one, into the harsh Chilean sunshine, after 69 hellish days trapped underground, each man was ebbulient. Each had been rescued. Each one is now free to live out the rest of his days in the light and the fresh air. Regardless of how happy or unhappy each of their lives turns out, at least they are free –to make the best of it, or a mess of it.
My joy in watching this today was mostly for them, of course, but it also gave me hope that buried things can be rescued.
And that includes all human dreams, talents and potential. All we need is a “Plan B,” –a slow, persistent, practice that will unearth each buried thing, one by one. And I have that. It’s called “yoga” and “writing” and “silent retreats” and “meditation” and “compassion.” Applied artfully and patiently over time, these practices can unearth the buried stuff, bring it to the surface, rehabilitate it, and set it free to walk around to either make the best of it, or a mess of it.
The lesson here is “never give up.” For the Chilean miners. And for us.
August 12, 2010
Portland, Here I Come.
This time tomorrow I will be with my daughter and son-in-law in Portland, Oregon where we will drink our Starbucks lattes in Em’s new store, drive out to the coast and fly kites on the beach, drink wine and eat tapas. Scott will play his guitar, and I will pet Nia, their chihuahua I will take lots of pictures and maybe some video too, and I will probably cry a little on the plane on the way home.
It’s a short visit–5 days, but something is better than nothing. I miss my Emily a lot, and even more so after I’ve been with her for a few days.
I’ve been thinking a lot about “vibe” lately, about how important it is for me to keep a good vibe going in myself, and how important a role other people play in either raising my vibe or dampening it.
Em really amps my vibe! It’s not that she’s manic or really high energy, it’s that she’s unfailingly upbeat and optimistic. She not only sees the glass “half full,” for her it overflows, and she’s always looking for some empty glasses to catch the excess.
In contrast, I know people who spend a lot of time “feeding the weeds” in their life by giving most of their energy and attention to negative stuff. I think when you focus your attention on negatives, those negative things grow like weeds and crowd out all the flowers. When all your water is going to feeding the weeds, there’s almost none left to feed the flowers.
I am going to Portland tomorrow to stay in my daughter’s house, where the “flowers” are watered, the “weeds” are few, and the “vibe” is strong and sweet.
Can’t wait!
May 20, 2010
Emily’s Birthday
I’ve been sitting here trying to find a good picture of Emily, my daughter, but it turns out I don’t have a good picture of her on this computer. But in my mind? In my mind, I have a whole museum of pictures. Gallery after gallery of framed tableaus: Pictures of her in her bassinette, at every birthday, and every Christmas, and every 1st day of school.
I also have the non-traditional mind-pictures of long laughy, cry-y conversations, usually on on my bed–usually at night, usually with Ira yelling up from downstairs, “Aren’t you in bed YET??“ And me yelling back, “Pretty soon!”
Once you’re a mother, you’re always a mother, but once your child is an adult the mothering morphs into something different from what it was in the days of diapers and dates and driving lessons. There are still the long, laughy-cry-y conversations, but they’re over the phone now (and there aren’t so many, if any, cry-y ones anymore.)
Here’s what I believe about being born:
Before you’re born it is decided that you have a mission, and in order to fulfill that mission you are born to certain parents, who are part of your plan (even if you don’t understand why, and would never in a million years pick those parents yourself.)
Everything that happens to you is part of the plan. The mission inside you is like a computer chip (and it even has speech capabilities if you know how to access them.)
When you are doing things that are in alignment with your mission, you are happy. When you out of alignment, you suffer.
Your most important job is to discover your mission and fulfill it.
Today is Emily’s birthday. 26 years ago, for whatever reason, her daimon picked me to help carry out her mission. She was such a fun kid to raise! And she is still fun, and deep, and sweet.
It was also part of my mission to mother her, I know that. In mothering her, I healed myself. In loving her, I learned to love myself. So in a very real way, she was, and is, my most important teacher.
Happy birthday, Emzabelle. I love you, sweetie.
May 17, 2010
Getting “Schlitzered”
Took a great hike on Saturday on the Black Forest Trail with Tim and Jackie. The weather could not have been better and the company more inspiring. Tim and Jackie are so fit and athletic and run on batteries, I swear.
Jackie got up and ran 13 miles before we even started hiking, and we hiked for 14 miles. We forded streams, inched our way along mossy banks, climbed steep inclines and walked along the spine of the mountain.
We sniffed mountain laurel flowers, and saw a timber rattlesnake sleeping in the sun. The sky was deep blue, the streams cascaded like white lace over rocks and among Zen-garden like moss.
We ate great sandwiches we bought at the best little store in Slate Run and emptied our Camelbacks.
After wading through a knee-deep icy stream and then walking through the deep silence of tall hemlocks, we at last reached the car 7 hours later.
G and I were planning to go to a friend’s party that night, but once home we totally bonked. We were “schlitzered.” (Tim and Jackie’s last name is Schlitzer, and “schlitzer” is now our new word for feeling exhausted to the point where you’re slurring your words and feeling body-blitzed.)
Here are a few photos of the day. It was so much fun!
starting out
The group
G and Kath
Tim and Jackie
Timber rattlesnake
