Dizzy

The right side of my head feels tight, like it doesn't quite fit with the rest of my body. I run my fingers along my neck and find the tight knot around C4. Yes, I know my cervical vertebrae. The tightness centers right behind my ear, and I rub small circles deep into the spot, hoping for relief and finding none.

I now pay for 3 storage units - over $350 a month - too much. I haven't been to one of them in over 5 years, $3000 ago. The lock is rusty and won't work. After much shoving and pulling I get it open, then the metal slide won't move. After much shoving and pulling I get it to move, then the door itself won't open, and the plastic cord gives me splinters. After much dusty pulling I lift the plastic door about 4 feet up and bend into the unit. Boxes of my three children's books, dusty, some destroyed, a box of cassette tapes (does anyone have a cassette player anymore?), a silk plant, an ancient broken sofa, not mine, and I think, so THIS is what $3000 of junk looks like.

I just can't do it anymore. I just can't. I am beyond my breaking point as I tell my husband to bring back 9 boxes each of the books, and figure out what to do with the rest of the unit. I won't pay anymore after the end of this month. I've got 5 days. No more, as the Winnebago Man says, making a moving X with his hands in front of him. NO MORE! Only it's funny when he does it, angry all the time, swearing, calling flies "jackasses". It's not funny when I do it, and I find humor in absolutely everything I can.

I've got to get the Bismarck house cleaned before I can get it painted before I can rent a U-Haul to move some furniture out of the storage unit and back to Bismarck so I don't have to pay for the unit anymore. Dizzy. I can't do much of anything else but manage this mess. And I try to remain optimistic. At least there's no MORE stuff to handle - just THIS stuff that sits in my garage and my kitchen and my front room and my sunroom and my library and storage units. Just a few more hundred hours and I'll be through it, then what? It's always something, isn't it?

At least I'm not buying MORE things. Maybe that's good enough for now. I've stopped the flow but still have to clean up the damage the overflow made. Yes, that's it. Keep going, keep your eyes on the new, on the Light, chin up, make a joke, spend time with friends, lighten up, Susie - things could be worse, you know. I know that, yes yes and more yes. But right now the mud has gotten churned up from the bottom of the lake and it's hard to see the bottom. And I don't even want to be cleaning weeds in the lake anyway - I want to be sitting on an air mattress looking up at the warm sun, one hand dangling into the cool water, listening to the crazy loon calling to his mate.

Give me a break (or two)

I pull up my socks, lace my shoes, stretch, and walk out the door. Movement is good. Forward movement is very, very good. Is there such a thing as TOO much forward movement? Le duh. We apparently are in the midst of one of the greatest energetic times in the history of the world. How do I know? Okay, maybe it's just me, but look around you - isn't almost everyone you know in some kind of turmoil? Had some kind of upset? Going through major change? Maybe it's just me - I don't think so.

I have never surfed, but I've seen surfers. They keep their balance, toes gripping the board, leaning forward to get their balance, all while riding on top of huge waves that threaten to smash them into bits or drown them if they don't know what they're doing. I got sick, my 11 year old got sick. He missed 5 days of school out of about 10. I left him home sick to go help my daughter with her blood clot she got after her knee surgery. I came home, my son got better, I felt better, and life seemed to be smoothing out.

I bought my son a longboard because we thought it would be fun. We bought a helmet because we believe in safety. I walked beside him so he could get his balance. Good good all good. But when I turned my back to load my car for yet another trip to Bismarck and cleaning up that house, he went to the school parking lot and broke both of his wrists. Now he sits, casted arms propped up on two pillows, watching "American Dad" while I type.

How much is too much? How much overwhelm can one person take? How do we approach stressful events so we don't totally combust? I don't know. I think I'm doing all right. But I don't play cello anymore, or learn Italian, or read. I still see clients. I wipe the dog hair off the stairs, and vacuum the living room, and do the laundry and dishes and cook dinner. And now I help my son put on his shoes, and get him ibuprofen, and put on his sweatshirt (both arms down, sleeves on, then arms up, put over head and pull down), and on.

Do I long for a vacation? I don't know. It's okay, really. I DID want a break, but this isn't what I had in mind, but as usual I don't believe in accidents. So what, then, could possibly be the point of all of this? I'm still not quite sure - release of control, loving detachment, acceptance, patience, fortitude, forbearance? I don't know I don't know I just don't know. I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, mindful of where I am, mindful of my balance and body position, trying to stay on top of the wave as it continues to build. I only know I don't want to be smashed into the coral or caught in the waves as they pound pound pound. I trust that won't happen. But if anyone's out there listening, I really WOULD like a break, not a bone break, just a nice coffee, or warm sandy beach break, for a couple of weeks. Then I'll go back into the fray, I promise. IF you can find me.

23 1/2 Totes

They are lined up in my kitchen, some open, some closed. My sisters are sitting on chairs or standing. We open one tote. Mom's diaries. She kept each year in large three ring binders, and included cards, magazine articles, notes. I look at her spidery writing and miss her all over again. I don't think I ever DON'T think of her and miss her these days. It is all fresh.

1978. My hands open the book and start thumbing through the pages. I just like to see what's in the books, what's in everything. I am committed to touching every single piece of Mom and Dad's lives before I throw it out or give it away. The pages keep zinging by and I can't read any writing. I don't know what I'm doing but I keep leafing. Then my fingers stop and I look down. I read.

"I'll quote from my first letter to Susie; 'I felt sad Wednesday night, saying good-bye to an important role of mine for the last 30 years, being mother of at-home daughters. How lucky that I could have that role, that God gave me five talented and beautiful women to help raise. I'm proud of the job both Dad and I did, and I'm ready to put that energy into other areas now. The whole point of raising children is readying them to meet the world, and still standing by with support and nurture when needed. So you are on the start of your launch into the world, dearest fifth and youngest daughter. My love and my hopes, my support go with you. Most of all, my prayers. The start of the empty nest stage, a new step for us. I love you heaps, Mom'."

How can I move on from that? I hear Mom's voice in my head, telling me this message of support and love. It's not the first time it's happened. She's still here. But she's not in the tote boxes, or the needlepoint pictures, or photos, or knickknacks, or the furniture, or any of the thousands of things still left to sort through. I close the notebook and put it into the 'keep' tote. I'm keeping just one tote box for all of us to go through in the future, preferably over a bottle or two of wine. There are just too many paper things to look at.

Renewed, I look at the six huge totes that have been sitting in my kitchen for the past 6 months, and I look at them with fresh eyes. In just 1/2 hour I have salvaged just a few things others may want. The rest of the totes sit, ready to be taken to the dump. These are just things. They aren't even memories. They can spark memories, yes, that's true- and it's precious for me to be able to read my mom's words, but now that I've read them, I have them. And I don't have to pay storage fees for them, I don't have to dust them, or clean them, or maintain them, or worry about them getting lost or stolen. They're here, in my whole body, every cell, every breath, all around me.

Lighten up. That's what we tell others we think are too serious. I've heard it from my husband. I get intense, competitive, serious, sensitive, overwhelmed, and he comes lightly into my consciousness with a shoulder rub and a squeeze, a whispered reminder of how much he loves me, and I think, yes. That's it. The rest? Garbage. It continues to be swept out of my life.

Demons? Maybe I need to eat red meat again...

I sit here. I breathe. I see the swirls of worry like greasy smoke at the corners of my vision, black, like dementors ready to suck my life force. I listen to what the woman tells me this morning, and I know it already. I hear it. Yes yes and more yes. I listen to what the other woman tells me this morning and panic starts to sour my stomach. I become afraid of what she tells me I already know. I'm afraid to pull aside the curtain and see the little man maneuvering the knobs around, speaking into the microphone. "PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN..."

So the question now becomes: whom do I choose to pay attention to? The man or the Big Voice? Reality or what I want to see? What I know or what I tell myself I want. I don't know. I don't believe in the concept of demons or hell or evil blah blah blah. I think everything is on a continuum of light, no matter how dark it may seem. But if there WAS such a thing as demons or evil, it would be this worry.

I worry about my kids, I worry about the house, and my dad, and my friends. I even worry about my dog! I know, I KNOW - it doesn't help to worry. It leads to anxiety, which is another form of the demon of lower light. Yes yes and more yes. I know that. I realize that. Now what to do? What's the next step to move inaction into action? What gets us off our butts, off the proverbial couch and into movement? I don't know. I think I'm doing everything 'right' (aside from that whole Missoni incident of 9.14). I'm still not eating red meat or pork, but I've lost my light. Maybe I left it on too long to show others the way that my battery's gone dead. I don't know. I've lost myself somewhere along the line, and the woman this morning says that's the intent. Dim the light of the Bright Ones. Well, it's working, I say in a singsong, silly voice.

Do I want everything to just be magically 'better'? And what does that even mean? Of course I do, on the one hand - doesn't everybody wish for that? But practically speaking, of course not - it's not realistic. Only WE create the change in our own lives, then it impacts everyone around us. And I AM doing that. I am. Every day. Every moment. But I'm tired right now. Gosh - I bet if I picked up one my journals anywhere from the last 30 years you'd read the same thing. So what can we do that's new? Fresh?

Hmmm... go for a walk? Meditate? Stretch? Done that done that done that. Breathe? Do that. Let go of the illusion of control? Work in progress. What do I think of the demons, and how can I make friends with them? Be the Light, I hear my small, still voice say. Be the Light. So I get up, search for the batteries so I can recharge and shine again. Maybe this time I'll remember to shine a little of that Light onto my own life for a while. It's kind of dark in here right now.

Another piece of carrot cake, please?

1983. I've found the best carrot cake recipe in the entire Universe and have already slivered off the equivalent of a whole row of cake. I can't stop. Its moist sweetness calls me from all corners of the house, seductively whispering my name. I can't stop. I scoop more walnut/pineapple/coconut/cinnamon goodness into my mouth, feeling it water as it hits the lemon tartness of the cream cheese frosting.

I've just lost 20 pounds and can't gain it back again. I've made a vow to practice self-control. I scoop the carrot cake into a baggie and walk it out to the garbage can in the alley behind our house. There.

10PM. I can't stop thinking about the cake. I think of it in that garbage can, all by itself, lonely. I take my flashlight, make my way through the backyard to the garbage can, lift the lid, and...

I have not spent any unnecessary money for almost two months now. No clothes, books, purses, shoes, jackets, soap, makeup. Nothing. Nada. Nobody can believe it! I DID dogear that cute faux fur vest in Nordstrom's catalog, and Hubby even said I could get it. He encouraged me, even, but I valiantly said no, I'm not buying any more things.

The phone rings. It's Shirley.

"Missoni's out at Target - better get there fast - it's almost all sold out already."

I panicked. MISSONI! I'd forgotten! Crap! I LOVE MISSONI! Why? I don't know - why do people love to breathe? Those funky zig zags, those crazy 60's knits, all of the overpriced stuff you don't need - what's not to love?

"Buy 2 of everything" I frantically text to her as she's zooming to Target to see if there's anything left.

We discuss sizes and desires (no velour hotpants, please), and hang up.

"Okay, there's a cute blue skirt that would look really good on you," she says.

"GET IT!" I scream into the phone. "Don't put it down! Somebody else will take it away!"

I'm sweating now, nervous - there are still two scarves left, thank god, because I can't live without a Missoni scarf - I'd DIE! My Yeti feet won't fit into their shoes, so that's almost a blessing, really - one less product to think of buying. But there's a cute dress she's found for me, so by the time it's done, she's picked up two skirts, one dress, and a scarf for me.

I'm relieved, exhilarated, excited. We got our piece of history - we got some Missoni! But wait - she just spent probably $150 on clothes I'm going to pay her for, although technically the sneak part of me justifies it by pointing that I didn't buy anything unnecessary - SHIRLEY DID! No, won't work. I failed. Ate a row of carrot cake.

My daughter looks at me and says, "This doesn't mean you have to eat the whole cake."

I tune in to my body, and feel the whole opening in my stomach again. "What's the use? It doesn't matter anymore. I may as well just start buying things again," only I don't want to. Ironically, my daughter and I are now at Target, and I see the rows of Burt's Bees and makeup brushes and body washes and feel a tug, but I take a deep breath and keep walking to buy copy paper for my son-in-law. I have successfully not bought anything for myself at Target, but I still feel like I've failed, somehow.

I certainly don't NEED Missoni, and there will always be something else sparkly and glittery and once-in-a-lifetime right around the corner. I guess it's okay this one time, isn't it? If I brought everything back, 100 women would be grateful for the chance to buy buy buy. And what would that mean to me? Maybe I'll wait to see what she got. Shirley's got exquisite taste, dang her. Maybe one row of carrot cake isn't that bad. But if you see me getting out the flashlight to head to the garbage can, be prepared to stop me. It won't be a pretty sight.

stripped

I'm naked. I don't like it, so I put on an undershirt and underwear. Then a t-shirt and skirt. Then a sweater. Then a scarf. Then my black glitter Toms. Then my mom's wedding ring and my favorite Pyrex ring. Then my Michele watch and the silver bracelet Missy gave me. Layer upon layer. I feel safe. Identifiable. In known territory.

The phone rings. It's my daughter. Bad news. I feel the bracelet slip off, then my watch, and rings, then my sweater and scarf, quickly followed by t-shirt and underthings. Stripped in one phrase. I'm naked. I have nothing left to identify me, nothing left to cling to. I don't want anything - those things feel heavy to me right now, and anything even beyond what's in front of me is too much to even think about. How could I ever have surrounded myself with so much excess in the first place? How could I think that heaviness would be helpful to me? Help ground me or something?

I mentally shake my head and feel myself in a free fall, but it's not unpleasant. It's wide open, this white light place I'm falling toward, and I think it has to do with letting go of control, and of the illusion that things give us. Things aren't real. Nothing really is, if you think about it. Everything is just empty space, when everything is broken down to its base component. I think then - if all of this is stripped away, what is left? I look around, and all I see is white light. Maybe that's the answer. I guess we'll just have to keep falling and wait to find out more as we go.

Buy a handbag? Hah - give 10 away. I don't care anymore. Anyone's welcome to most everything I own. I open my doors to friends and family to look over everything - anything catch your eye? Because I'm pretty sure I can live without it. I'm pretty sure it would be good to live without it. It's just too much.

Waking up. I feel like Neo in the "Matrix." They said you can't wake people up after a certain point because their brains just can't make sense of the difference between their waking state and reality. I feel it. But I know it's not too late for me. Or for you. For us. Timing is everything. It's all perfect. But this waking up? It's just not what I thought it would be, but it's okay, I think. Just difficult. But who said difficult was bad? It's just... difficult. Stripped bare. Down to the White Light of the All That Is. Back to the Center, Home, my soul. Where there are no things, no separation, and no illusion.

Squirrel Time!

Winter's coming. Okay, sorry, that's depressing. Fall's coming. I see the squirrels hopping around the front lawn. Doing what? Gathering nuts for the long winter? Hence the phrase, squirreling away... I think of our huge family, four sisters and two parents, and our basement full of boxes of kleenexes, paper towels, napkins, soaps, soups, gum - lined up in neat rows so all we had to do was run down to the basement instead of to Warehouse Market when we were out of something, and we were almost always certainly out of something.

I inherited my parent's pioneer spirit. You should see my pantry - full of cans of crushed tomatoes, dried beans, pastas, raisins, honey, you know, the basics. We won't starve. For about three years. In the midst of all of this clutter shuffling, I took a long look at exactly HOW much extra foodstuffs and soaps and spare toothbrushes and everything I'd stored up, and I don't know, but I'm curious to see how far we can go before we have to buy anything new. So I'm doing the Seinfeld. Do you remember the episode when Kramer takes the car out into the country to see how far it can go on "E"? It was like 200 miles. It was an hysterical episode. Why am I remembering that one? Because I want to see how far we can go on "E", but the E doesn't stand for Empty, it stands for Extra. How much extra do we have, and how does it feel as that extra padding, that cushion, that safety net, evaporates into the here and now, the current, the present?

It honestly makes me nervous just thinking about it all. I think we can go until spring with the soaps and most of the larder. Gees, larder - see? Pioneer spirit, I'm tellin' ya. Pioneers say 'larder'. Also probably root cellar, I'm not sure. I stored our extra potatoes in the root cellar.

What is the purpose of this exercise? It's an ongoing thing, my friends - this whole "what do you REALLY need, and how much extra do you need, and WHY?" My friend Melissa says she buys one handbag at a time, then wears it out, then buys another. I turn my head a little, trying to comprehend what she's saying. I never USED to have so many handbags, until Kari got me started on rotating handbags and the importance of having several at a time. But I'm NOT a several handbag girl, either. I don't know how to 'do' that. Likewise with too many pairs of shoes. I'm pretty good at the whole jacket thing, though, if I may be honest. So maybe just as I can only use one handbag at a time, I only use one soap at a time, and don't need 25 bars in the cupboard to make me feel safe. I counted around 70 bottles of my mom's perfume as I cleaned out her bathroom cupboard. I am down to 7, and that still feels like too much. I will not buy any more perfume until all of my perfume is used up. I have four bottles of lotions. Same thing.

I remember one year that I had a lot of credit card debt. This was a long time ago. I decided to just 'stop spending money' and in the course of a year, I was not only out of debt, but had managed to save $14,000. I remember not feeling the difference in that huge amount of spending difference. I don't remember feeling deprived during that year of spending less; I don't remember thinking, "Gosh, I didn't get this, or get to do that..." I felt the same. So I didn't NEED to spend that extra money. It wasn't about the money. Just like now. I like the feeling of knowing my checking account balance is the same yesterday as today because I haven't spent any money. I don't need to. There's nothing I need right now. Groceries, yes. Gas, yes. That's about it.

Will this all make a difference in my life now, billions of years after the whole big spending debacle? Yes, I know how to spell 'debacle' - I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I think it is already making a difference. The energy once reserved for swirling catalogs and fashion websites has now moved over into the larger picture of my life - am I happy with my home, with my work, with myself? No? Then I have time and space to do something about it all, and that is worth every not-buying-another-handbag to me. Sifting through the piles of lotions and soaps is clearing my path for the new in my life. I'm letting the extra go, and letting the new come in. I like it. I like it a lot. Squirrels are cute, but not that cute. Time to pick another animal for my totem. I'll get back to you on that.

The Plane Truth (yes, it's related)

The dream happened 25 years ago, during a particularly rough time in my life. In the dream I'm walking across an open field and I look up into the sky only to see a giant plane headed right toward me. I know I'm going to get hit, so I stand tall and wait for impact. I feel a bump, then watch myself get smashed into a billion bits that fly all over the ground. Then I watch as piece by piece I come back together again until I stand where I am, only this time I'm bigger, and stronger and invincible. I walk away with light emanating from all around me.

That dream gave me courage to do some very difficult, but important things, and because these are big, important times right now, it didn't surprise me to have yet another plane dream last night (I have a LOT of airplane dreams, in fact).

One of my sons and I are in the body of the airplane, and it is emptied out of seats and everything. I get the feeling we're about to land, so we walk up to the cockpit and look in. One of my other sons (I don't remember if my 11 year old was flying the plane, or my 24 year old son). My daughter is the co-pilot. As I look through the windows, I see that we're on a steep, fast descent and about to crash. I realize the crash is imminent, so I say, "WHITE LIGHT" and look at all of my children and say, "I love you." Then everything goes white.

It wasn't until a friend of mine posted that my dream scared her because she has a lot of airplane dreams. I said, "This is a different take on a dream I had 25 years ago," then something inside of me clicked and I totally got it! This WAS the same dream as the one 25 years ago, only WE are the ones INSIDE the plane that HIT me 25 years ago!

My feelings in the dreams are the same in both - fear of total destruction followed by resignation and peace, and an even better outcome BECAUSE of the total destruction. Life is shifting at an almost unbelievably fast pace. I watch others zoooooooom by me, some in ecstasy over the changes and some in complete panic with the crumbling of foundations and approach of the unknown. Me? I feel both - almost always peaceful and expansive, clear and calm inside, but almost always fatigued and overwhelmed on the outside. It's hard to explain. I'm glad I'm off the low frequency of the red meat and pork - I know that's helping all of this. I'm glad I'm not spending any extra money - it's calming down a lot of dust that used to keep me confused and swirled up. I'm glad my life is shifting and changing, even if I don't like change. I'm glad the plane is crashing... again.... I trust that this is the complete circle that needed to happen - me as being the recipient of the new, and me AS the New that's smashing the old.

What does it mean? I have some clues, but I'll keep my theories to myself and choose to just keep making Gypsy Soup and double chocolate gourmet brownies, because in the end, it's the ride that matters, even if you see yourself ready to crash - the crash isn't the end - most likely it's only the beginning.

I Say Potato, you say Sodium Benzoate - say WHAT?

"What shall we have for dinner?"

"Let's use the last of the organic bison."

"K - what else? Oh, we can eat up this box of potato salad I got from the store."

"Uhm..."

The bison is delicious, topped with organic tomatoes, onions and lettuce, no bun. Still gluten-free. I don't try the potato salad. My 11 year old takes a bite.

"Ew, it makes me sick," he says.

I look at the side of the box (never look at the sides of grocery store boxes - just don't). Hang on - let me grab the box out of the garbage can. I'll be right back... okay, ready:

Ingredients: potatoes, salad dressing (water, soybean oil, corn syrups, vinegar, modified food starch, egg yolk, salt natural flavors (?), garlic, lemon juice, paprika, disodium EDTA, mustard, sugar, onions, red peppers, citric acid, sodium benzoate, and potassium sorbate.

No - not on my watch. I take out the eggs, peel the potatoes, and put them all on to boil. I cut up three stalks of celery, half an onion, and cut up some carrots (all organic). When the eggs and potatoes are done, I slice them all up and put them into a bowl, add the vegetables and squeeze some canola mayo and organic mustard over the top, add a splash of fresh horseradish, some Celtic sea salt and some freshly ground pepper. There. My ingredients, ready?

My ingredients: potatoes, eggs, celery, carrots, onions, canola mayo, mustard, salt, pepper (all organic, except I'm not sure about the pepper).

It's hard to be humble when it comes to my potato salad - I have never tasted anything better than it. It's not rocket surgery (as we always say), but it IS homemade and fresh, always. That's ALWAYS better, in my opinion. I whip up a batch of egg salad for Bill's lunch, and call it a night. All told, I've spent another hourish in the kitchen making more 'good' food. Then I think - I could make a big batch of my Carolina soup - fall's coming - I could make a double batch and freeze some in smaller containers to have ready quicker in case someone wants some soup and feels like reaching for that Campbell's chicken noodle (don't even ask - it was a HORRIBLE fight between me and Hubby over that soup - oh, and Spam).

Am I willing to spend maybe another hour a day in the kitchen, making sure we have all fresh food in our fridge, nothing out of a box? Let me reiterate - we do not have that much processed food in our house anyway. Yes, some chips - we like our Lay's - well, my son and hubby like Lay's. Uhm, that's about it - Hubby eats honey granola bars and organic licorice. That doesn't count, does it? It's organic. Still junk food (sort of), but still healthy ingredients.

Yes, I'm willing to do that for the health of our family. Not only that, for the TASTE and GOODNESS. That is a bigger motivator than anything, I think, as I remember my dear son's face as he bit into the yellow blob of 'potato salad', and him saying, "ew, this makes me sick." So not worth it. If I make the time, we'll have the food. NO sodium benzoate to be found. I don't even KNOW what is - I don't want to know that is, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't belong in food. Ew, this makes me sick." Yes, sweetie - me too.

Hamming it Up

I don't think about it much anymore, but sometimes it creeps in there. We were at the lakes all weekend, and buying groceries was uhm, interesting. I turn my back and see five bags of chips in the cart. I turn again and see two giant bags of trail mix. I turn again and see a mini-keg of root beer.

"Okay, you guys - let's kind of calm down on the snackage, please?" Pretty much all of us can stand to keep being mindful of our girlish figures, can't we? But it's vacation, I hear. Sigh. I won't be the big bad meanie mommie, I promise. We walk by the meat counter. Organic chicken? Organic turkey? Organic anything? It's Park Rapids, for crying out loud. Wait - yes - organic chicken - Bare - I wonder if that means it actually IS organic, or just trying to SOUND organic? I don't know. One dinner down. Organic hamburger? Sigh. No. No cows. Then Hubby spots it - organic BISON? Yes, PLEASE!

$400 later (hey - it's 48 hours with 6 of us, after all), we're at the cabin, unloading. One child walks in. "What's for dinner?"

"Bison burgers," I confidently say.

He wrinkles his nose and says, "I'm going into town to get something to eat."

I take a deep breath (I seem to be doing that a LOT lately) and say something about somewhere in amongst the $400 worth of groceries I'm certain he'll find something edible, which he does. Am I mean? Was I mean to put back the can of processed cheese spread and one of the trail mixes at the grocery store? Does making healthy food choices for the family always need to feel like I'm pulling teeth or slogging through mud or fighting World War III? I try the "be an inspiration" but it doesn't seem to be working. They just look at me cooking the stirfry while they munch their giant blueberry muffins from Starbucks.

I know my family appreciates the healthy food; I think I know that. My almost 12 year old just said "sometimes" he appreciates the healthy food in the house (I just asked him as he was walking up the stairs). My husband says, " of COURSE" in that voice of his. Oh, this was supposed to be about HAM!

So we went to the logging camp this morning. They brought out a huge plate of eggs, ham and hashbrowns, and another plate of pancakes. I looked at everything and wondered what would be the best choice. I had some scrambled eggs, two small pancakes and a dab of hashbrowns. I looked over and saw one of my family members eating slice after slice of ham, and I got nauseous. What am I supposed to do? Remove myself from society? Never eat out? I can't say anything to anyone - they're in charge of their bodies.

It gets so tricky, this eating thing. If I make it difficult, will they dig their heels in and eat MORE crappy food because they're mad at me and feel like I'm bossing them around? I didn't say anything when they bought those two pies, did I? I even had a forkful of each, even though they contained about 20 chemicals and ingredients I couldn't pronounce. I'm not a total dweeb. Just a sort of dweeb, I think. I don't know what else to do. Drink some more purified water and call it a night, I suppose. I'm sure there will be more food dilemmas waiting for me tomorrow.

No Moos is Good News?

"I'm making beautiful organic steak for dinner." We're in Bismarck, about to head up to Dad's for the evening after a productive day of decluttering our new home.

"That's great, Dad!" I brightly say.

Beautiful tomatoes, corn, carrots, potatoes and beets. And two beautiful huge t-bone steaks, ready to broil in the oven. I look at Shirley. She knows about the whole no cow thing. I think she's wondering if I'll cave in and eat steak with my dad. I could. I only promised to go one week, and it's been over a month. And I kind of wanted to, I won't lie. But when I looked at the steak and asked myself if I honestly wanted to eat it... I still kind of wanted to eat it. But I decided to not. I went to the fridge and looked around. Three slices of organic deli turkey. Mkay. Not organic t-bone, rare, chew the bone like a dog kind of meat, but doable. I'm lessening my animal protein, but I still find myself really ravenous and craving substantial food sometimes at night. Okay, I'm almost always ravenous these days, and I'd heard that not eating red meat would make you lose weight, but I am most definitely NOT losing any weight. Sigh.

I quietly put the turkey on my plate and Dad cut the steak and I put some on Shirley's plate and some on his. If he noticed I wasn't eating any he didn't say anything. It's no big deal, but for the first time I worried that I may offend someone by not eating what they'd cooked. It's my dad, for crying out loud. I love my dad more than anything in this world, and he's a perfect eater! All organic fruits and vegetables and salmon and nuts and yogurt and stuff. He's almost 89 and in perfect health. He's amazing. So when he's eating the steak, I remember his famous life motto: everything in moderation, and I'm thinking about my whole no animal protein thing I'm leaning toward.

I used to love eggs, and now I haven't eaten one in two weeks. I only eat chicken and turkey now, and only a few meals a week. Mostly beans. I need to learn how to cook them ungassey, I think. And up to 15 fruits and vegetables a day - it's astounding to me! And THAT all feels good. It's just this feeling that came up of "you mean I can NEVER eat any of this stuff again? What if I WANT to?" And I think I'm just going to have to keep working with that as I go, dealing with it as it comes up, staying curious and open and flexible about it. Making choices day by day, one step at a time. Let go and let god? Hmmmm... maybe that's the alcoholic's motto, I'm not sure. Maybe they're interchangeable. I wonder what's for dinner? There's leftover corn, stir fry purple cabbage and organic chicken and rice, Bill's potatoes and some organic lettuce for salad. Yes, that will do. Again and again.

Super Warrior Biatch to the Rescue!

It started on Monday evening. Remember the restlessness? Well, fully paralyzed by 7PM, I took a few deep breaths and looked at my options. One: stay paralyzed and keep complaining about life's difficulties and unfairness, or Two: summon all of my inner Warrior Biatch to come to the forefront. I got interested. Maybe I'll try number Two. I dropped all of my previous feelings about overwhelm and messes and garbage and sorting and put on my mantle (or it mantel? Am I a fireplace?) of Zena imperviousness. I already know how to ululate, so I'm that much more prepared already.

Shirley and I drove to Bismarck Tuesday morning. We stopped at Staple's and picked up 10 boxes, then went to Dan's County Market and bought 10 tote boxes, then went to Captain Jack's and bought a bottle of wine. Fully equipped, we went back to the house. As we looked around at the piles and piles of stuff, we made a plan. I knew what needed to be done, but didn't know quite HOW to get it done. Shirley started talking. It's interesting to me that at that point I was looking right at her, and I knew she was talking, but I couldn't comprehend anything she was saying. I think my brain just shut down with the sheer mountain of work facing us. Our house is beautiful - almost 3000 square feet on the river - high ceilings, high countertops, lots of light and open space. I could retire there. And it was inevitable that I'd have to sort through Mom's makeup, Dad's computer equipment, family archives and documents, papers, furniture, pictures, and everything else accumulated in 88 years of living.

Two piles: Dakota Boy's Ranch and dumpster. 200 garbage sacks. Go. We worked straight for 7 hours with nary an extra breath. At one point I remember telling Shirley that I'm channeling my inner princess because I most certainly know how to point and give commands, but I'm not so keen on the physical labor part of it all. We moved quickly from the kitchen to the front room to the master bedroom to the master bathroom. I opened the cupboard and there it all was. Mom's brush with her hair still on it, her favorite lipsticks and perfumes, all lined up in neat rows. I ran my hand over all of it, closing my eyes, feeling her presence. I felt my energy shrinking inside of me and I leaned against the sink, whispering, "oh oh oh". Shirley walked in, took my elbow and said, "Let's go out to the deck and have some wine."

I wanted to save Mom's brush with her hair in it, but I knew I had to shove it into the garbage sack and let it go. Let her go. Is it even possible for us to get through the entire house in 24 hours? Most definitely not. Let's go. And go and go. We finished the master bathroom and moved upstairs to the loft and the hundreds (thousands?) of books in the bookshelves, the back storage room full of documents, Dad's computer stuff and files. Go go go go go go. Off to lunch, then Shirley has to head back to Fargo. I take a deep breath and walk into the downstairs office, the last of the beasts, piled 6 feet high with furniture, tote boxes, pillows, books, photo albums. Go go go. I remember Warrior Biatch and call upon her, emptying dresser drawers, looking through every single piece of every single everything. Go go go go. Make a pile for my sisters, another pile for my dad to go through, another pile for me. Go go go. The movers are coming at 5 to transfer everything out to the garage. I have almost all of the garbage (hey - there's only one extra letter in the word 'garbage' than 'garage') put into bags, and all of the giveaway in boxes. The doorbell rings - I look up, glazed and dazed; my back is frozen, I can't stand upright. I can't walk. I take a deep breath, try to get centered, and look around me. The office is done. I can't believe it. In 24 hours we managed to do the impossible, and Shirley tells me she's impressed, but I think she's more shocked than anything. She admitted that she thought she'd have to pry everything out of my hands, yet she found herself pulling out the swirled glass water pitcher for me to keep.

I kept three mixing bowls to take back to Fargo because mine are all broken and I don't want to buy more. The house is totally empty except for a bed in the master bedroom, a futon in the front room, and the dining room hutch we never moved. I saved two small dressers for the basement so we could set up extra bedrooms for the kids. I saved some books for my sisters to go through later, not wanting to haul them all to Fargo. The moving men packed the entire back of my car with things for my sisters, and piled the rest of the house into the garage.

Exhausted, I decide to sweep and mop the floors before I leave. Sure, why not? One hours later, I find I can't stand up again. I crawl to the futon, let the sun hit me in the face, and drinking my water, feel the silence and the openness all around me. This is work well done. I want to stay overnight, to rest, to have silence, but family obligations pull me eastward and I'm home by 9:30. 2 1/2 hours, 85 miles an hour, no stops.

I won't tell you what happened at our house this morning, but I will tell you that if I ever thought I'd catch a break, or get to rest one second, I apparently am mistaken. Life continues to squeeze at me and I get to continue to figure out my responses. Apparently I am some warrior biatch because I keep getting opportunities to kick butt. But if I am honest with you, I would rather just sleep right now. I would rather get on an airplane and fly to a spa, where I would get massages, and mint juleps, and foot rubs and facials, and disappear for a while. Yes, that would be nice. Even warrior biatches need breaks, too.

Stirring the Pot, but no soup for me!

The restlessness came from nowhere. The anger, the frustration, even the feeling of paralyzation, all at once. I can't run to shopping anymore, so I'm stuck. Or not stuck. I kind of don't appreciate any of this. I felt like running this morning, and I don't mean the strap-on-your-shoes-and-take-off kind of running. I mean the get-out-of-here-because-it-feels-uncomfortable kind of running, only there's nowhere to run. So cleaned out my closet. But what I want to say is that I don't know what will happen when I get to Bismarck and have to clean out that house. What's the problem? Everything I will be doing would've had to have been done anyway, it's just that the whole pot/house got stirred up, and everything is in disarray. Interestingly, the things I found most important are safely esconced here in a climate-controlled storage unit. So theoretically I could just haul a dumpster to the driveway and scoop everything into it, right? Only everything is mooshed together. I just don't know.

What would I wish for in my life right now? A clearing, some simplicity, some open breathing space that isn't about cleaning or clutter or clearing. I just want to be 'there', in that place where everything is settled and calm. I've got the makings for it. We're eating 100% healthy now, I'm not spending any unnecessary money, I'm thinking before I spend, sitting with what I have, still malleable and open to change. Will anything REALLY change? When will that tide begin to turn? Is this normal? Am I normal? Will I ever stop asking questions?

I saw an old friend this afternoon and she asked what I was doing. I told her I was going to Bismarck to settle the house, starting a new radio show, writing my blog, teaching a memoirs class, and working on a cookbook. She laughed and said, "Man, you are just never a dull person, are you?" and I laughed, because I was feeling kind of bored and unproductive, like I should be doing MORE. I feel like I'm totally taking a break. THIS is the thing - I think I may be the one stirring my own pot, I'm not sure. I have to check some more variables, but if that's true, then I'm the only one that can do anything to change anything, right? Hmmm... this is all very interesting to me. I think I'll go clean out my library and see if any more insights come to me while I'm looking through old books.

Eclectic

Melissa's fabulous. No, more than fabulous. She's amazing! This new best friend. I just knew it from the second I met her - this is someone I'm going to be friends with. She's a professional organizer (yikes Mikes!), and the first time she came over to the house I was more than a little self-conscious as to how she'd see it.

"Well," I said, "What do you think?"

"Eclectic," she tactfully said.

That's not the first time I've heard that. Carolyn said that, as well. I think that's code for something. Messy, maybe. Junky? Maybe. None of our furniture matches, and the paintings range from an amazing Star Wallowing Bull over our mantle to an Ace Powell right next to it. Burgundy Persian rugs and rust colored flowered easy chairs. Hmm...eclectic.

"What should we DO?" I dramatically asked my sweet husband, my arm flung over my forehead, me draped over the side of the chair. "I love all my stuff."

"Honey," he said, "It's who you ARE. Every time you throw something out it leaves a hole in our house, then you just go out and buy something to replace the hole with."

I look at our library. I love that room. It's got built-in bookshelves on two walls that are filled with antique books, reference books, fiction, non-fiction, spirituality, children's - yes, they're categorized. It houses my beautiful cello, Celeste (yes, I named my cello - so what), and our baby grand piano, Sophie, our beautiful 200 year old plant (yes, I named my plant - so what), my mom's antique doll collection, Dad's army hat, my Athlete of the Year basketball award, Steve's Shriner's hat, and a Turner sculpture. If someone were to tell me to get rid of half of everything in that room I would start crying. I love everything I've got.

Maybe the key is breathing into what I've got and not buying anything MORE. Is that a hoarder's justification? Maybe I need to strong arm myself and give away 50 things I cherish, just to make myself detach from things. Maybe I need Melissa to roll up her sleeves and get in here and show me how it's done, really done, not this pansy butt giving away a pair of shorts here, a pair of shoes there.

I walked out to the garage today, ready to tackle no-man's land. I'll give my french horn away to the high school, get the Underwood typewriter fixed so I can type on it (how cool would THAT be? Pretty cool), throw out 6 of the 9 tennis rackets, 7 of the 10 baseball gloves (I'm not joking). I can do this. I walk out, start moving stuff around. There's a pile of garbage in the corner where the paint is peeling off the wall from the leak 10 years ago. I don't know what to do. I sigh, turn around and walk back into the house.

Sometimes I feel paralyzed. Okay, a lot of the time I feel paralyzed, and I wonder if my achy knees is symbolic for my inability to move out of this energetic stuff muck. I think so. I think I am painfully awake now that I have stopped eating cows and pigs, have stopped spending money on unnecessary things, and have actually looked at my life. We need to move. That would fix everything. No, it wouldn't. I think I'm stuck with myself. What to do? Uhm, go eat some organic chocolate, I think. That will help. Really? No. Just kidding. It won't help. I'll go finish reading "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother" - that will put my life into perspective, I think. Then maybe I'll go force my 11 year old to practice his violin for 6 hours. Hah. Just kidding. Man, what a riot this life is. I can hardly wait to see what tomorrow brings. I'm sure it will continue to be a laugh a minute.

Let's Get Ethical

Why does anyone become a vegetarian? I imagine there are as many reasons as vegetarians. Why did I choose to give up red meat and pork? It was an energy thing, an experiment, I was curious. Was it an ethical thing? Okay, maybe. I will tell you a story. I hope you don't think I'm odd, but chances are it's already gone way beyond that by now.

I was standing at my stove stirring hamburger. I think it was in 1998. I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, just looking down at the skillet. Then I heard it. A moo. Inside my head. That's it. It barely registered at the time. What did that have to do with me cooking hamburger? How far removed I was from the whole butchering process that I spaced out the source of my dinner? That's probably WHY we can do it, maybe. Eat meat. It's sterile, hygienic, detached, separate. We don't SEE the live cow, or see the butchering process, see the stockyards, see the terror in the cows, see the whole hamburgerizing. I wanted to type more details, but my stomach started turning just hearing the words forming in my head, so I won't type more. I'm assuming everyone knows where hamburger comes from.

So that one incident was significant for me, because for the first time I really chose to put two and two together and I got a cow. A live cow. That mooed in my head. I still ate the hamburger, and it became easy to just go back to sleep. But not much anymore. I fear I am waking up with a vengeance, but I think I'm also becoming aware of subtle shades of gray beyond the usual black or white. What are the shades? Well, here are some.

It is true that we eat animals. We have always eaten animals, for thousands of years. We can hunt them, fish them, gut them ourselves, clean them, cook them, give thanks for our abundance of riches in the form of food for our bellies. We can raise them humanely on small farms, letting them roam free, feeding them good food, giving them room. We can only eat meat on special occasions, not as an every meal option. We can still be very healthy and eat moderate amounts of animal protein, I think, if it is organic, low-fat, and raised in a healthy way. It is becoming more evident, I think, that raising things (any things) in crowded conditions leads to disease and illness. E coli from not only beef, but spinach and sprouts.

I don't like all or nothing of anything. I really don't. The rebel in me wants to be free to do whatever I want to do. And I want to decide what I want to do, I don't want anyone else telling me what to do. Sure, maybe it's immature - it's just the way I am. How can I make good, healthy decisions for myself if everyone is yelling at me that they know what's best for me, for the rest of the world? I think that's crap - we have to be stewards of our own bodies and our own lives. We must be allowed to make decisions for ourselves, within the confines of society, of course, but otherwise we become puppets and remain emotionally dependent children for the rest of our lives.

I can feel the future of the world, and it is this: hubs of locally grown produce and meat, available to the general public within a 100 mile radius. If everyone could do this, there would be enough for everyone, and everyone could get what they wanted without having to get something from Chile or Brazil. Okay, I might not be able to get pineapples or oranges, it IS North Dakota, after all, but we could figure that out. It's probably a good idea to cut down on this nation's consumption of animal protein, anyway, so the demand would drop and the huge megafarms of Tyson would lose their footing. We'd get to know our neighbors as we trade and barter goods (another wave of the future), and we'd get more connected to our world. We should probably do away with fast food because there's not much good I can see that comes from it. Hey - family dinners! Home cooking! Dinner parties with friends!

There are so many choices and options and things to think about when it comes to changing lifestyles and making conscious decisions about how to live a full, rich life that doesn't involve sprinting and gulping and sugaring and chemicalling ourselves to death. There's just no need. That era is over. This is a good time for gentleness, ethics, and moral decisions based on what might be good for everybody, not just me, or you, or you. Yes, I've decided no more cows or pigs, and eggs are mysteriously falling by the wayside as well, and for me that's a really good thing. Do I ever judge someone else's choices? No, I don't. You do what you need to do - see how it works for you, see how you feel, see how good your health is, and if you think you'd like to do something different, maybe even call me to go out for some coffee. I'd love to talk with you about it. Oh - you don't drink coffee? How is that going for you? I can't seem to stop.

Oh brother, Mother

I've been a mother for almost 26 years now. When I was a child, I thought there were three types of people: men, women, and mothers. I honestly thought they were a different species, void of feeling, needs, opinions. I thought they lived to serve us children. I have always wanted children, since I was 7 years old. I love my kids. They have my whole heart. I think about them, worry about them, care for them, take care of them, love them, laugh with them, praise them.

I dropped my 11 year old off today at middle school. As he slammed the door and walked confidently toward the door, I felt my eyes tear up and breathed in the emotion instead of laughing it away. It surprised me, this reaction. After all, he'd bee in school for 5 years already, it wasn't like this was NEW. But I decided to follow the thread of my feelings as I drove away. I felt a big hole open in the middle of my body, and felt a rush of air as my whole life flew through me. I felt myself as a young child, then a teenager, then as a young mother, to now, and on to being a grandmother, growing old, then dying.

I felt as if I were falling as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying to hang on. I stayed with the feeling all the way home, but immediately after slamming the garage door felt a HUGE pull to go to my computer and buy everything I could see. I DESERVE that Chanel 2.55 bag, I NEED that beautiful leather couch for our house in Bismarck, I NEED that fire pit in the backyard - I'll call the concrete guy today. The hole in my stomach opened wider and I looked down into the abyss and saw no end. So I decided just to sit with it all.

"Hello, body - sup?"

"Uhm, uncomfortable here - duh..."

"What is it that you need? I see that you're in some pain. I want to help."

"Well, I would like to get outside in the green and the breezes. And I would like to stretch. Oh, and while we're at it, I'd like to lift some weights."

So I snapped the leash onto my wild child puppy and headed outside. I matched my stride as much as possible to my wiry dog and followed my breath - in out in out. I looked up at the sky, up at the trees, not down at my feet. They know what they're doing. Is this getting any easier, this not spending money? Well, it's easier to not eat cows or pigs, I'll tell you that, although there WAS that perilous bacon temptation moment a few days ago.

I wonder if this is changing my life, really, or if I'm just deluding myself again, pretending to do some oh so cool stuff. I look around my house. It's still messy. But at least I'm not bringing anything NEW into it, and my credit card balances aren't going UP anymore. So if the water isn't totally stopped, at least it isn't overflowing anymore. That's something.

I stir my lentil curry soup and let the smell of onion and garlic soak into my consciousness. I slice the artisan whole grain bread and place the warm slabs on each of our plates. I cut the local watermelon into three big slices and put them on the table. I am so rich, I think, this life of mine. Full of abundance. I have three beautiful children, a beautiful husband, a beautiful home, beautiful Work, beautiful clothes, a beautiful backyard, beautiful health, beautiful beautiful. Do I like this new life? Do I like me? Do I even like being with me in this 100% way? These are questions I'll have to keep asking, but I DO know one thing for sure: I really don't want to eat cows or pigs anymore. As for the rest of it - we'll just have to see.

Sweet Surrender

Surrender. Let silence have you. And if you find you are still swimming on the surface of the ocean, let go and sink into the depths of love. ♥ ~~

–Kar Kirpa Sahib

My enlightened friend Juliet posted this on Facebook today, and I thought (as I think 100 times a day), "What a coincidence! I was JUST thinking about this!" (see previous blog post from two days ago). All about going deep not wide, sinking into my life instead of hydroplaning on the surface. Am I silent? I pull out my fuschia yoga mat and turn on my 101 Yoga Poses on my iPhone. Standing tall (do I have a choice?) with my hands in front me, palms together, elbows up, I take a few deep breaths and look out the window at the wind blowing through the leaves of our silver maple in our backyard. I become the tree, rooted, deep, letting the wind of life move through my branches, moving me but not breaking me. I think, 'is this corny?' I don't know, but it makes sense. I put my focus in my belly, my trunk, and breathe my energy deep down through the bottoms of my feet. I'm not the most grounded person I know. Hah. Understatement much? That is my desire - to be connected not only deeply to the earth, but to every single other being in this whole Universe, every 'thing', every particle, molecule. Why? Because I believe we ARE all One - we are made up of that same 'thing' whatever that is - that golden sparkle of Divinity, maybe? I don't know what it IS, really, I just know I feel it and believe it.

So if that's true, then there IS no separation, anywhere, anytime. If I'm angry at THAT person, I'm angry at something in myself. I feel my reality shifting and my brain pulls and stretches with the possibilities. There's no one out there. There's just me and a kazillion googleplex of mirrors of me reflecting me back to me. And you back to you. Ow - my brain is stretching again, so I step back from my soaring reflections and feel myself present in this moment. I feel the fullness of my being, the richness, the honor of being able to inhabit this beautiful, healthy body. Our bodies are temples of our souls? Is that biblical? It has new meaning for me.

I have said many times that I give up. People have asked me that what means, and I answer, "I don't know." It usually means life has become too frenetic, too stressful, too much, and I want it to change. But that's not surrender. Surrender isn't the white flag that says I give up, but the peace flag that says, "I am here fully and I understand." I stop my pushing, my conniving, plotting, planning. I stop my bullshit and my judging, my justifying and my explanations. Just stop it. Close my eyes, lean back, and just fall into the warm waters of surrender. Let them carry me downstream to the Ocean. No more fighting. There was never anything to fight about in the first place. I made it all up. I thought it was real. It isn't. THIS is real. The wind through the trees, my breath through my nose, my toes wriggling off the end of the chair, the smile on my face. The rest? Fluff and stuff. I want real. That's all.

swing swing swingety swing

I bend over my toddler and lock my hands beneath her knees, then lift her up. I start swinging her back and forth, singing, "Swing swing swingety swing." Such fun to have a makeshift swing, anywhere, any time! Back and forth, feel the air on your face, your tummy lurch just a little as you switch positions from one extreme to the other.

Life is my mother bending over me, her hands locking beneath my knees. I feel myself lifted off the ground, and feel the movement in my days as I swing back and forth. Sometimes I'm nauseous, sometimes motion sick, sometimes altitude sick. Sometimes just confused. There are so many options. There are so many things to think, things to do, things to feel, friends to talk to, dishes to be washed, surfaces to be dusted. I sit here in my chair, doing nothing. Well, I'm thinking. That is not always a good thing.

I take a breath. As I continue to sink deeper into my life, I'm slowed down enough to actually look around at the seaweed, little shells, fish swimming by or just lounging in front me, tails lazily treading. I can see the murky green little bits floating in the water, if I squint I can see parts of the sandy bottom, and shadows darting through the weeds. I don't like the shadows. I can't see what they are.

I like to KNOW things. That is where being an intuitive comes in quite handy. But sometimes we just don't know. So we search for answers in our outside world to explain everything. I think we are at a point in our evolution where most things just CAN'T be explained or understood on the outside. They have to be felt and experienced from the INSIDE.

I just don't know. I understand more of why I seek distraction. Life is messy. It's not clear cut. I like rewards, treats, breaks, distractions, disconnects. Only not so much anymore, because I've chosen clarity, simplicity, stripping away the clutter to uncover what's underneath. So far I still don't know what's underneath; I seem to be still in the process of stripping down to the basics. It still feels like a lot of 'stuff', physically, mentally, emotionally. Spiritually I'm good. That's always been easy for me. It's the life living stuff that's more difficult. I don't always 'get' it. Why isn't everything easy? Why isn't everybody nice to everyone else? Why can't we all take responsibility for our happiness and our well-being? Why do people blame others for their unhappiness? I feel my consciousness dive deeper as I hold my breath for the long plunge ahead. I keep thinking I will get to the bottom of it all some day, but I think perhaps there is no bottom - just more swimming deep.

Swing swing. Back and forth. I need to just sit for a moment, clear my head. Man, it's a mess in there sometimes, even without the cows and pigs and sugar and handbags. A friend once told me my mind is a raging river, never stopping. I don't know if that's a compliment or an exhausted observation. Maybe both. I breathe. I sit. I observe. Even if I'm swinging, I can be in the present moment, experiencing the swinging sensations, feeling the wind through my hair, the blur of my life as it flies back and forth in front of my vision. Swinging isn't necessarily bad - maybe it's more of a figuring where you want to be in the moment, looking at different places, enjoying the ride.

Sinking In

My feet are in the warm foot cleanse water, I have 10 minutes left. I close my eyes, sit up straight, put my hands, palms up, on my thighs, and take a few deep breaths. I open my eyes a little and focus on a spot about three feet in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I see a light yellow butterfly (moth?) flit in front of the window, a crazy swirly pattern, then disappear. I start to compose my blog entry as I sit. Stop. Sit. Breathe. I'm so good to be sitting here, just sitting here. See how good this is when I can just slow down? Stop. Sit. Just breathe.

Slowing down to the speed of life. It is SO not easy for me. 51 years of marathon sprinting to an invisible finish line, acquiring mounds of things that were never enough, focusing on my outside world so that I am hydroplaning my life, skimming along the thin top layer. When I am like that I can't feel my life beneath me and one false move and I can swerve out of control. I HAVE swerved out of control several times, all the time, really. Until now. These past few weeks have become very important to me. I forgot that I was only going to give up red meat for one week, and it's been three already. I forgot to eat any animal protein yesterday; I just didn't want to.

I still struggle with not looking at catalogs or going online; I'm not going to lie to you. Hubby found a dog-eared Nordstrom catalog in the bathroom. Guilty. But I haven't bought anything. I am an addict, I think. I just have to keep going cold turkey. Don't open the catalogs at all. Don't go online. Don't daydream about the next thing that will REALLY make me happy, for REAL this time! I think this deep life is the real deal, and while I casually wonder why I've been avoiding it for so long, I remember a counseling session I had several years ago. My therapist asked me who I would be if I wasn't doing something. "Dead," I said. But 'doing' is overrated, I think, and I'm tired. I like 'being' - it's a still pond with green waterlilies and floating loons. It's a slight breeze rippling the surface and the reflections of pine trees. It's the crackle of the deer through the forest and the breath of the hiding rabbit. I breathe deeply and sink in further.

water in the boat - time to bail!

I'm feeling whelmed these days. Yes, it's a word. I wondered one day: if you can be underwhelmed or overwhelmed, can you be whelmed? It actually means the same as overwhelmed, which means the boat comes up the side of the boat and over the top. What are these feelings? They are good. Opening up a package from my sweet friend Tami and finding a beautiful picture frame and kitchen magnet that says "kissed on both cheeks" and finding myself moved by her generosity and friendship. I take a deep breath and let the feeling overtake me. Sitting on the couch, hearing my dear son in the next room talking to a friend, I breathe and just sit listening to him, loving him so much my heart starts to hurt.

I am present. I am not distracted these days. Not looking at catalogues or websites (okay, I will not lie - Garnet Hill has this ADORABLE little rosette dress that I desperately want, so I snuck a quick peek at it today for one minute but didn't buy it) has shifted my energy from being so outward acquisition-oriented to more inner focused. I could feel myself shifting outward again when I looked at that dress and daydreamed about what boots I'd wear with it, where I would wear it, how everyone would say how cute I looked. This is a drug - this is brainwashing, I think - this materialism. It is deceptive and devious, lulling us with promises of happiness that are vapid and shallow and ultimately meaningless. It sucks the hours out of my days, the energy from my being. I sound dramatic but I think it's true.

I give myself one minute on Garnet Hill then snap off without going further. At least it's a step. It's like alcoholism, I think. You think you can take just one sip and it will be okay, you can stop, but I think it's hard to stop unless you just don't start again. I don't need that dress. I need my son. I need my friends. I need to sit quietly and do my yoga (101 Yoga Poses on my iPhone = dreamy!). I need to dig out my sports bra and yoga pants and go to Zumba at the Y on Monday. We already belong - it won't cost me any more money!

How much is free in this world? So much the water is flowing over my edges again. There's not enough time for everything as it is - why bother with the costly things - go for the FREE! I think that is my new motto - I'm going to write it up and stick it on our bathroom mirror and hope Hubby doesn't think I'm too goofy. I'm going to keep walking my wild child puppy and enjoy watching her climb trees to scare the squirrels. I'm going to keep baking fresh peach cobbler and I'm going to keep going to the library to read my library books (after I finish reading every book in my personal library). I'm going to find the free and do it. Bike riding, playing my cello, writing with my son, holding hands with my husband.

It IS whelming, but it's all so very very good and I want these things in my life. As I drop the cows and pigs, moving toward dropping other animals out of my diet, and as I drop the balances from my credit cards I leave room for other thoughts, other feelings, other energies and options for my life. Maybe this is what I've been missing my whole life - going deep not wide. Going real not fake. I can feel it. I really can. I'm going for the FREE!