Finding Balance

My mother-in-law looks great in skinny jeans and tall boots. My husband's family all have the trademark long, skinny legs, even my sister-in-law, who was not born into this family but joined like me, by marriage, has those enviable long legs. I, on the other hand, come from a history of women with the kind of curves that Jennifer Lopez made famous (at least from the waist down)! Lanky limbs just weren't in the cards for me and so I've come to accept and, even at times celebrate the body I was blessed with. This brings me to; It's All About That Bass by Meghan Trainor.

http://youtu.be/7PCkvCPvDXk       Check it out!

I first heard this song last summer when I was in the throes of packing up my life to move to the north woods.  During the four months that I was sorting, purging, wrapping, packing and labelling boxes, every time this song came on the music channel I listened to, I would immediately drop everything, turn up the volume and start singing and dancing around the house. It made me deliriously happy! It made me laugh! This simple distraction in the midst of the chaos of making a move this big was amongst the things that kept me sane; a release of the nervous energy, the doubts and fears and sadness and trepidations of leaving my life in Arizona behind and moving to the unknown. After two years of grieving and a year before that of begging God to heal Beth, now my heart, mind and body were in a mandatory state of readiness for the life changing event that I never in a million years thought would happen; leaving the life that I built since childhood behind to begin a new one.

In my weary from grieving state this did have some appeal. I could focus on something new. Change is exciting or can be,  in the same way that getting on a roller coaster is exciting. Once on it, you can't get off and you close your eyes and hang on for dear life. And, if you're like me, you pray the entire time that you won't get sick or die and you just want this wild crazy ride to end. So I focused my energy solely on getting us there. The packing. The millions of decisions that are involved in a move this big. The strategy and planning all appeal to a mind who loves to organize. And so, in the midst of hundreds of boxes, wrapping paper and belongings that were dwindling as I let go of more and more things that  I decided I didn't need, in the midst of all of this, I focused on what I was moving toward and not what I was giving up. I prayed. A lot. I cried. And I sang and danced to All About that Bass! I mostly filled my mind with thoughts of opportunity of a new life surrounded by trees and water, clean air and seasons, a slower pace, a small town, another family that needs us, another family we love.

Starting over. I asked myself how many people ever get this opportunity? I pushed away the sadness and did not focus on loss or endings, but on adventure and opportunity and beginnings.  I felt like I was moving back in time, to a quieter existence, one where I would be forced to focus on the meaningful, the true, the basics. Without the distraction of big shopping malls, cable television and with only limited internet access I would have a better shot at the simplicity I craved,  I would go back to nature, I would meditate, I would journal  and draw and paint in soft pastels and do mosaics. I would sew and crochet and hike and read more. I would eat healthy, home grown foods and breathe clean air and drink clean water and I would spend more time out doors and I would
  s-l-o-w d-o-w-n. Slow my thoughts and breathe more deeply and at this slower pace I would begin to live a life more aligned with my true nature. I would be more attuned to the spiritual, healthier, more fit and have a lighter heart. Without all the distractions of living in the crazy energy of traffic and noise and rush and hurry, my life would be enriched. I still believe this to be true.* I just forgot that when you get off the roller coaster and put your feet back on solid ground it may be a while before your balance comes back. One of my friends lost her equilibrium for months after a Disney ride. So, I am here, in the woods trying to regain my balance.

Coincidentally, about a month after we arrived here in Wisconsin, my right ear closed. I wasn't sick. I didn't have a cold or sinus. My right ear just closed. And then it got worse and then I went to the doctor and then I went to a specialist. I lost my equilibrium. I temporarily lost hearing in my right ear from what was most likely an inner ear infection and when my ear opened up again I had an intermittent vibration or hum like a bee going on in my ear and my balance continued to be off. I have a hearing test scheduled as well as some sort of test for my balance and inner ear. But in the mean time I am learning to cope with being off balance. It's getting better and I believe it will all be resolved in time, but isn't that just fitting? I'm learning to find my balance.

*I do realize that you can aspire to and achieve the same goals while living in the hustle and bustle of the big city. I just like to think it's gonna be easier here :)  In the end though, I know that, "wherever you go; there you are"! It's an inner journey. You can't wait for things to change. You can't wait until you move to the country or get a new job, or retire or pay off your debts or lose weight. Begin now, wherever you are. Like Gandhi said, "Be the change you seek". Be the change you wish to see in the world. Let your life be your message. What a wise, holy man.

Saying "Yes!"

I don't remember where I first heard that when you say, "yes" to something you simultaneously say, "no" to something else. It's a choice we make over and over every day of our lives. Multiple times a day.

The movie, "Sliding Door" with Gwyneth Palthrow, depicts the main character going about her life making choices that we all make constantly, without thinking, and the audience gets to see the parallel reality she would have experienced had she made the opposite choice. Of course we don't get to glimpse the parallel universes of our lives nor would we want to. We make the choice that makes sense at the time and we move forward. We reap the rewards and we suffer the consequences. And hopefully we grow.

Supposedly on our death beds we will not regret the things we have done so much as the things we have not done. When we begin to lose those dear to us; parents, grandparents, siblings, friends, we start to think about our finite number of days on this old earth. So, why not say "yes!" more often? Don't we want to experience all the life we can pack in, in whatever time we have remaining?

Saying "Yes!" to new adventures, to the people we love, to learning something new, to doing something outside our comfort zone, even when it means looking awkward or foolish, being willing to do the thing poorly. Saying "Yes!" to the last minute invitation. Saying "Yes!" I'll dance! "Yes!", I'll take that trip! "Yes!", I'll visit my friend! "Yes!", I'll move to Wisconsin and live in the woods! "Yes!", I'll take that art class! "Yes!", I'll exercise! "Yes!" I'll eat more fruits and vegetables! "Yes!", I'll go cross country skiing! "Yes!", I'll put on snow shoes and give it a go! "Yes!", I'll go out in the cold and build a snowman! "Yes!", I'll start writing again and put it out there to share! 

Yes! Yes! Yes! 

The people I know that have the most fun are the ones who say, "Yes!" most often. They seek out new experiences, classes, workshops, concerts, plays. They cook for their friends. They host game nights. They go out in nature. They take in sunsets and sunrises. They watch meteor showers and eclipses, even when it means setting the alarm for some ungodly hour and going out in the cold. They volunteer. They use their hands. They garden. They smile a lot. They dance. They sing. They are in touch with their inner child. They use their imagination and put aside fear of failure or being criticized. They create! They make sure they are around other people. They love learning. They love sharing. They listen. They practice doing acts of kindness for friends and strangers.  

"Yes!" is an energy that moves us forward and invites more and more Yeses. "Yes!" engages us and we participate more fully in life. Once you say it, it becomes easier and easier to say, "Yes!".

Developing the Art of Saying "Yes!" is a worthy intention!

  

Morning Thoughts

Rising early this morning I open the blinds and it is dark outside, there is frost on the window pane and the front porch light makes the snow on the ground sparkle. The weather app on my phone says it's 3 degrees and snowing. I hear the mournful sound of a distant train. I climb the stairs and wander into the kitchen and fill the coffee maker with water and 6 scoops of dark crystals. I breathe deeply the aroma. 

I'm thinking about life here in the woods. Being in this foreign land of Wisconsin. I believe somehow that it is perfect that we left the desert and are thrust into this deep freeze of winter. We didn't ease into it, instead winter arrived early and with a vengeance. The natural thing to do is to hibernate. It's part of the cycle of nature.

How perfect that I would read an article from onbeing.org  this morning about hibernation! Isn't it always a gift when there, in the printed word are thoughts from your own head articulated so eloquently by a writer? Here are some excerpts from the article,

"The Gifts of Hibernation" by Andreana E. Lefton, Guest Contributor:

"...the world has granted me a natural pause and is itself preparing for winter, I feel that I too want to still myself, restore myself. Be.

"...the silence of my heart is transforming into a call to prayer."

"We each live and work according to a philosophy we both inherit and invent. The inherited part is easier to articulate. We can dive into Einstein or the Bible or the Bhagavad Gita, and find the lineage of our world-view, already manifest.

Our invented philosophy - the self-made scaffold our lives and visions cling to - is harder to speak out loud. It's hard to even write it down. And yet, we must try! For we hang our very beings on these invisible bones.

I am learning to see hibernation as a time to retreat from the world, yes. It is also a time for my own unspoken philosophy to come into clearer focus. In this way, hibernation is a time of approach. I am approaching the truth in me, a movement that requires both patience and trust..."

"...coming closer to the rhythms and mysteries of life beneath our thin shield of technology and distractions - is one of the many gifts of hibernation..."

"...Hibernation, which is another word for healing, restores our nourishing, grounding source. In so doing, it frees us to become a force of reason, reflection, and kindness..."

"...So light a fire, and pull on a sweater. Let the snow curl by the door. Listen to the hush of trees or traffic. Welcome the darkness. Sleep well."

blessings...

Oranges. To me the perfect food. I love it's happy sunshine color and the bumpy skin. I love slicing it into wedges and sinking my teeth in and tearing out the juicy meat. The sweetness on my tongue and lips. The smell. The memory of orange blossoms like perfume filling the desert nights.

Inhaling the scent of peppermint soap in my morning steamy shower.

Sitting in church with Jonathon and Joy. Wishing others, "Peace of God".

Clean, folded laundry.

Laughter.

Our Bichon pups, Bene and Luce, chasing each other around the house... making us laugh.

Snuggling up against their warm fluffiness..

My cozy rainbow blanket crocheted by friend Patty.

Phone calls from Arizona.

A surprise package arriving on our doorstep.

Hearing Jonathon play piano and sing.

Washing dishes at Joy's kitchen sink... hot soapy water... rhythm of the work of emptying counter tops and table... rinsing dirty dishes...filling the dishwasher yet another time... hearing the family talking and laughing...

The full moon, a stunning silhouette against the dark sky framed by outlines of bare trees.

Still counting. 

Remember... The blessings are all around us.

Stop.   Breathe.   Notice.   Say Thank You.