My King and I

RIP King James

I lost a dear friend this week.  Herbert L. James died very suddenly in a way we might all hope.  Mr. James, 81 shared a lovely meal with his wonderful son and most elegant daughter-in-law and settled in the den of their cozy home to watch a little news before bed.  He complimented Miss Charlotte on her divine fixins', fussed at his son for not hopping-to-it to clear the table.  After tidying up, he sat in his favorite chair.  Mr. James coughed, signaled to his son that he needed just a moment to collect himself and died.  Like his bright light was simply blown out. Easily, gently but with a deafening finality that weighs on my  heart like a cement block.

My friendship with Mr. James was an unusual one.  I met him about 6 or 7 years ago when his daughter-in-law, a lady I love dearly and I became friends.  He was a gentleman's gentleman and reminded me of all things stately and kind - paternal and grand paternal and friendly like we were connected from another time.  Mr. James dressed down in a button down and wouldn't ever be caught in God's house without a suit.  He had his military haircut sharpened once a week and drove himself in his mini-van to visit family and friends and live his very active life.  I love that burgundy caravan.  You might expect someone like me getting out of it with a gaggle of children instead of a 81-year-old fella with a twinkle brighter than Orion. 

I lost my Dad about the time  I met Mr. James.  They shared many qualities - reverence for their wives (both deceased), deep love for their families, manners and sharp blue eyes. 

My Mom had been gone for about 8 years when I met Charlotte who's beauty and grace remind me so much of dear Kathleen. 

A coincidence?  I think not.

I just saw Mr. James a week ago when we said good-bye to one of his grandsons, young Adam.  Though at a very sad event, I was uplifted to see my Mr. James looking so well and quite vibrant.  Like the true gentleman he was, he offered me his arm and escorted me around the reception like I was his queen.  I have never felt so honored.  When I got the call from Charlotte a few days later she said, "Clair, I'm afraid we've lost one of your biggest fans."  I think not.  I was his.

Rest in peace my dear friend, King James.  Say hello to my parents.  I miss you all.

Buck, baby

I left my house at 5:30 this morning to catch a 5:45 spinning class at the Y.  I had my doggie pj's on over my bike shorts because it was cold I don't have any sweats that aren't running tights.  Not very exciting but that little tidbit lends to my falsely perceived notion of the  activity level at the gym at that ungodly hour.  I figured only crazies or police officers or my friend Ann (who is training for an Ironman and teaches the class) workout in pre-dawn hours.  She wouldn't mind the pj's.

As I was leaving my neighborhood I saw a Big Buck galloping through open space.  He looked so majestic and sure of himself and yet so fragile to me since I am married to an animal-loving hunter who believes in population-control and humane demise (i.e. quick shot vs. splat into the grill of an Escalade).  The hunting debate aside - and yes I respect many views - This buck was BUCK chiseled,  handsome and if I were a doe he'd be my boyfriend.

 

The Urban Dictionary defines Buck as a slang term for wild, ridiculous, extreme.  Used to describe something so amazingly fierce, it's almost not possible - in a good way.

At 5:40 in the morning the Y was Buck Wild.  Busy, buzzing with fitness minded  maniacs and I thought it was cool.  I forgot I had on my pajama bottoms but those nut bags didn't even notice.  I took my pj pants off and climbed on the saddle of that bike got busy.  Way fun.


Nothing like bucking in the early morning. 

Did I just say that?


 

Why do children get sick?

I know a young girl very sick with cancer.  Things are not looking good.  I am not close with her or her family but I've seen her at Mass many times and had the pleasure of being in her company during Children's Liturgy.  She's a beautiful, faithful young lady always smiling with what seems to be very limited time.  I am sad and overwhelmed and inspired and confused and motivated and hopeful and determined.  My heart is cracking for her mother and father and family and close friends.

We are told that God listens very intently when children pray.  My children and I prayed for our friend last night.  Jane asks, "Is she dying, Mommy?"  I told her yes and she said "Why?"
Thy will be done. 
Thy will be done. 
Thy will be done.
Faith: to believe in something when you have absolutely no reason to.
Thy will be done.  Surrender.

In my faith I believe sick and dying children are a beautiful part if a plan I am not smart enough to comprehend.  Sick children are good and precious and potent purveyors of life's best deepest lessons.  It's our job to listen and to notice and to act.

Tonight we prayed for our friend from St. Paul's.  Tomorrow I will remember her and her family and my children will make cards for her and be still and quiet and faithful.

So I didn't get the job.  Thy will be done.
So I made a tough choice and am filled with questions.  Faith.  Thy will be done.
So I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  Patience.  Thy will be done.
So my children never met my Mother.  Surrender. 
And will hardly remember my Dad.  Trust.  Thy will be done.

Our friend might not see November in her body.  Thy will be done.  Thank you for letting me know her. 

Trust.  Faith.  Patience.  Surrender.  Lean on the love that surrounds us.  With these tools we can finish any race, competition, pose, project, or difficult process.  Ask any child you know to pray for Trust.  Faith.  Patience. Surrender.  The world needs it and our little sweet friend needs it.  Out of the mouths of babes...  Sadly, we lose some.  Hope.

Thy will be done.  It is good.  Faith told me that.

Rebellion is brewing...

So I had my surgery.  Here's me recovering

Here's me on day 3...

Here's my story.  I traveled to Bali to teach Yoga to a bunch of executives from E!  After I got my $3 million for the guest appearance during which I was worshipped and offered my own gig I went for a dip in the warm pool right off my bedroom.  Here I am meditating in gratitude for my great fortune.

Because I was buzzed from morning margaritas, I fell in by this lotus flower and a leech attached to my collarbone.  I'm home now and for the life of me I can't get it off.

I wish.

I will likely have a 'large, ropey' scar left from this round of skin cancer surgery since women make thicker more keloid scars on their trunks.  What the hell!?!?  Later I will have steroids injected into the scar to settle it down.  Does that make you squirm?  It does me.

AND

I have to have more surgery on my face.  That cute round bandaid in picture 1 is from a biopsy that came back positive for more deep skin cancer.  Hopefully, THIS IS IT.  And I can move on to the plastic surgery to repair the scars on my forehead.  I will look fabulous from the eyebrows up.  It's something.

All this said.  I am feeling very rebellious now.  Looking for a respectable, ethical, moral and legal way to live out loud.  So yesterday I was at home alone - which NEVER happens and I cranked up the tunes and danced around my house like I was 25 again winning a dance contest which DID happen (unlike the Bali fantasy).  Chicken.  I was alone.  Next I need an audience.

In the spirit of living in the moment and being a little crazy - I was thinking about getting my belly button pierced.  I have done away with the tattoo idea (too much commitment involved).  What's rebellious to you and would you do it?   

I do not have Munchausen's

However, I can't wait for my surgery.  In 2 days I am having this removed...

Not my collarbone but the quarter-sized pinkish blob of skin cancer.

(I wish I were having my neck trimmed and smoothed.)

I am also having a smaller area near my left eye excised for the same reason and a consult for scar revision from an earlier incident. 

This will involve an open wound, stitches and the smell of my own skin.  I can't wait.  Why?  BECAUSE FOR 2 DAYS NO ONE WILL EXPECT A THING FROM ME.  Yes!  I will have guiltless down-time.  This is not Munchhausen's but someone who needs to learn to sit still without a reason.  That it's actually beneficial to do nothing.    

 A person with Munchhausen's Syndrome  feigns disease, illness, or psychological trauma in order to draw attention or sympathy to themselves.  (Wikkipedia)

I don't want illness just stillness. 

For this opportunity to tune inward and check out for a number of hours, I am grateful.

I am also grateful for:

• catching this rascal before it got out of hand.
• my friends and family that have offered to help out.
• my exceptionally good health. (save this little snafu).
• the support of my husband and children to train to become a Yoga Teacher.
• the love of my family and friends.
• the world's best parents.  (Miss you, Mom and Dad)
• you, for reading this post and any others you may have perused. 

I'll let you know how it goes.

Keeping it real...

Today's little confession:  I returned home from day one of my anatomy workshop on Saturday evening.  After six hours of instruction on body parts my brain was fried.  My children were glad to see me which is a nice feeling.  My scrumptious 7-year old was especially excited dancing all about my person, swinging on the arm of the chair I was sitting in - chattering a mile a minute.  I say to her:  "Can't you just faint for a few minutes?"  I thought I was being funny.  Not so much.  I need this little rest coming my way.

What is your confession?

30-day wagon ride

I'm promoting clarity. Vibrancy, enthusiasm, peace and contentedness. 
How?  I am getting out of my own way.  Yoga is a major method to erasing the madness of cloudy living but other tricks toward clarity include:
Nasal cleansing.  Here's my very own Netti pot:

I am no longer a virgin.  Today I put the long end up one nostril and let water drip out of the other.  My breath is free and clear which is the point.  This practice is supposed to aid your Yoga practice making way for good, healthy big breaths.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Morning meditation without a hangover. 

As part of my YTT homework, I am to meditate every day.  I have found it so much more enjoyable without the leftovers from happy hour picking away at my eyelids.  I've never been a heavy drinker (1 to 2 glasses of wine a day) but I wine it out nearly everyday.  For thirty days I am on the wagon.  I am currently on day 10 and making it.  Again, clarity and vibrancy without anything in the way.  I'll let you know how my serpentine spine electrifies my very soul.  That's the plan.

Life is to be savored not withstood.  The only way to notice everything that's going on around us is to to experience it.  Having the senses unimpeded by anything in our control so we can  absorb the life within and around us.  Isn't the point of our humanity to stop and smell the fall foliage?

 What's in your way? 

Yeah, baby!!

Pranaaaahhh!
Prana (प्राण, prāṇa) is the Sanskrit for "vital life" (from the root prā "to fill", cognate to Latin plenus "full"). It is one of the five organs of vitality or sensation, viz.  In Vedantic philosophy, prana is the notion of a vital, life-sustaining force of living beings and vital energy, comparable to the Chinese notion of Qi.  (wikipedia)
In prana, a great big "Oh, baby!" sits in your throat ready to come out.
"Oh, baby!" just wants to come out.  It can happen when...
You are in perfect alignment during a Yoga pose.

You run a race

You set a perfect table for dinner with your favorite people

Maybe your hair  looks good today.  Or  your herbs are happy.

That counts.   Creating, writing, sailing, hugging, praying, dancing, looking in the eyes of a loved one all let prana flow.

It is accessible to all of us all the time, we just have to learn to cultivate and harvest it.  It makes us alive and as long as we have breath, we have prana.  Yeah, baby! 

In Yoga, we are taught to notice Pranic moments and let them  imprint.  We are trained not to react but let it be.  Soon it will be woven within us and we may feel the urge to "Yeah, baby" much often.  I like that prognosis. 

I must go feed my dogs who are circling me like they've never seen food.  If they could, they bark out a big "Yeah, baby" whenever they see their full bowls.

What fills your bowl?