Not me

It took 42 years.  I am figuring out know who I am not...

I am not a long, lithe fast runner but that doesn't make me a fat, slow wanna be.  I still love to run (sometimes)

Not me

I am not a ballet dancer - long, lithe, light, bony sticking glass in my belly so I can feel something (i.e. Black Swan).  I am a dancer.  I am never more electrified (almost) than when a good base and clear floor space opens up.  Baby got back - and pelvis and hips and shoulders and goo in every cell when the music starts.  I get lost and please don't find me.

Not me.

I am not a pretzel.  I am a Yogi.  You are too whether you  know it or not. That's a whole other post. 
I AM NOT TOXIC.  Or at least in 21 days I wont' be.  My friend Kathryn and I are detoxing together starting today. 
No flesh.  No dairy.  No processed foods.  No white flour.  No white sugar.  No caffeine.  No alcohol.  Yes lentils.  Yes fresh fruit and veggies, basmati.

I will check in during this journey often during the next 3 weeks.  I won't lie or pretend it's something it's not but I will have utter faith that in my moments of really, REALLY wanting M & M's, I will get me some Eminen and dance my face off.  I am not Meg Ryan.  (hiding her stash and looking for it in the trash.)  Trust me.  I trust Kathryn and we are in it to win it.  Have a great day.

Me in my new purple jacket.

(in my mind.)

What are you not?

Good God, no excuses...

Why wouldn't you practice Yoga everyday if this counts?

Day 19:  3-6-5 Yoga

After consulting my friend Kathryn, I decided that Viparita Karani (Legs up the Wall pose) with Pinot Grigio balancing on the abdomen counts for my daily Yoga.  My meditation consisted of deep breathing at a stop light with the radio off.  I took a walk with my luscious 7-year-old fully present loving her and the rhythm of our steps.  I practiced real Yoga without twists, binds, arm balances, or inversions.  I can do this for a year.  Mostly, I plan to go deeper longer stronger in asana but if this counts there really is no excuse.  For God's sake. 

Jon wants to know if he can wear boxers during class to be closer to his om.  I ask if he's ever been in a Bikram studio where there's om  wagging everywhere.

I think I was behind him at a class in Annapolis.

He was wearing less.

We're all friends.  Wear what you want, Jon - just do it. 

Day 20:  15 minutes of meditation.  15 minutes of asana.  Dropped to chaturunga in my office.  Losing focus but coming back.

Are you coming back?

3-6-5 Dang Good Time

I'm in.

Yoga everyday for a full year.  One of my teacher training buddies invited be to be a part of this 365 Yoga challenge.  This little e-community of crazies meet up on Twitter or in our blogs to check-in everyday to report our Yogic experiences.  Total fun.  This is day 17 (duh! check the date) and I am NICE all day long.  I wish the 11 hours of practice over 3 days I just completed as part of my TT (not tee-tee or titty, get your mind out of the gutter) counted but that's the beautiful thing about Yoga - 15 minutes or 180 it's all Yoga and it's ALL GOOD.  Being with your Yoga in a conscious way every day will lead you to closer communion with your higher purpose, God, love. 

Come on in.  The water is warm.  Rich full deep breath.  Rich full deep life.

Do you want to join us?  You won't regret it.  Comment or email me and I'll help you chime in to our Collective Om.

Not into this, cool.  I honor all of you for who you are.  But you really can stop and just breathe for one minute everyday.  It's a dang good time.

This weekend we did a billion of these:

Ustrasana (Camel).

And 6 million of these...

Urdva Dhanurasana.

Then I did this...

3-6-5.  Come on.  Will you do it?

Collective soul

Please read this.  With holiday gift certificates I made a hefty trip to Barnes & Noble.  I read this treasure in a day and was left with a hefty trip.

Surely, I am late on the scene with this novella published in 2002.  I am inspired and so happy to know of our individual significance to the collective good and that we are really a part of the Collective Soul.  And they're hot.

For God's sake who wouldn't want to be a part of that?  Lessons learned...

We are where we need to be. 
We have everything we need.
Seeking is good.
Love will support your Personal Treasure.
Camels aren't as trustworthy as horses.
Falcons are cool.
When we are our true selves we are enough and supporting the collective soul.

Stop gagging and get out there and be you.  This year find out who that is and...

Get that tattoo if you want.
Run a race.
Be kind.
Be present.
Be quiet.

And, please read The Alchemist.  I just bought The Little Prince for my younger children will be reading it out loud and collectively crying for the tenderness of our humanity.

Today at Bikram I DID THE COOLEST CAMEL.  I SAW MY OWN HEELS UPSIDE DOWN.  Trustworthy or not.  Give me my camel.

Lastly...

Frozen mud slide

Have you ever had a frozen mud slide?  It's kind of a dessert drink, like a milkshake with hooch.  If we lived in Europe where there's no drinking age it would be on sale at Friendly's or Dairy Queen.  When I was in college like the child I was I ordered one when a professor of mine asked me out on a date.  He was a journalist, slick and cool.  He ordered some sort of high-end scotch.  I felt really stupid.  I haven't had ordered one since.  I have had one all over my face however for almost two years. 

I recently had an ellipse done on my left eyelid and eybrow area as part of a scar revision process.  It was a simple v-shaped slice and reclose to relieve droop.  It wasn't a real lid-lift (blepharoplasty) but I am here to tell you it's made a world of difference.  Not in how I look but how I feel.  Since my first Mohs surgery in Feb. 2009 where I had a honking skin cancer removed that left me with 53 stitches across my forehead I have felt like I had a landslide of mud creeping down my forehead extending into my left eyelid. Scar tissue, nerve damage and the like. I didn't know how annoyed I was by it until I wasn't.  The minute my doctor pinched the skin on my eyelid together after excising the droop I wanted to celebrate with hooch.  I wish I had that frozen mud slide to drink.  I heard the professor I  had that drink with in Spring of 1990 died young about 10 years ago.  So what they say is true (and I know from experience)

Only the good die young.

I want to die good and old and with frozen drinks and friends nearby.  Dancing my way to the grave happy and centered.  I am planning on it but going with the flow of this beautiful life.

Here's me contemplating my trek to oldness right after my mudslide was removed.

Wanted: Surrogate Mother

Fluff, inspired words, clever sayings, wisdom, humor, informed valuable opinion and total charm.

And now for  today's post.

I need someone to step in and raise my children.  That's what I told them.

Set up:  Because of snowy weather our Christmas break started a bit early.  We've been in the house together for awhile.  There is an abundance of carb-loaded, sugar-stuffed finger food all about our house.  My children have been helping their darn selves anytime of day.  I am a bit of a freak about what they eat so I am so off-center and way controlling and hyper-aware of everything they put in their mouths.  I realize I need to let some of this go, it is the holidays for  6 pound 8 ounce baby Jesus' sake.  BUT, I HAVE MY LIMITS....

Keep in mind that last week my girls ate the hard as concrete Gingerbread House because "they were hungry".  I guess they forgot where we keep the frig full of nutritious food.  I mean I can never find the scissors, I get it. 

But THIS was nuts to me.

Today at 2:30 IN THE AFTERNOON as I am preparing to leave for my SURGERY on my eye (after I had been to a Bikram Yoga class and cut up fresh vegetables with dip for lunch) I ask "which one of you has brushed your teeth today?"  Each one of them (below) said, "not  me" with a giggle as if they were proud and waiting for the crazed response from their mother.

Note:  All their mouths are closed probably to hide their unbrushed teeth.

Here's my response:

Screeching, and vein in neck fully engorged:  I AM MOVING OUT SO SOMEONE ELSE CAN RAISE YOU.  WHAT I AM DOING IS OBVIOUSLY NOT WORKING.

Middle child, (teary):  do you know how bad that hurts us, Mom.

Me (void of maturity and reason):  well, prove me wrong.

Loving, patient, kind, compassionate, guiding, intelligent, gentle, wise, fun.

And now for the real me...

Grateful, trying, sculpting, learning, stretching, loving, asking, dancing, waiting, doing, planning, working, laughing, toasting every day.

Maybe I'll be their surrogate mother.  Doing my best and keeping it real.

Have you brushed your teeth today?

  

Rockstar, Mass and Meditation

I know an IRONMAN finisher. 

2.4 miles swimming in frigid temperatures navigating a sea of strange elbows, knees and feet in your face. 
120 miles on a bike.  Makes my butt hurt to think of it. 
26.2 miles on her legs.  I've done that and can't even fathom it after two other major MAJOR events.  I am in awe of my friend Erin who in her mid-forties just finished her first Ironman competition in Arizona.  Needless to say, she's fit, hip, and a rockstar to me.  She's humble too.  Erin says:  anyone can do it, if she can.  You just have to want to train.  Stress fractures, early morning icy runs, and fear at the start couldn't keep her away.  The only time she got teary was when she was about to start.  Fear can do that.  How she got through? Her mantra.

God is with you.  You can do it.  For me, she made praying cooler than cool.

I used to think it was not cool if not impossible to be a Mass-lovin' Yogi until I had coffee with my Yogi-friend, Garland.

It isn't Garland (though it looks a bit like her).  She can do this on one hand. 

Once when I was a freshman in college a "friend" made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with her foot.  You know how you get really hungry when....  (it was a very time ago.)

Anyway...

When I'm at Mass I'm a closet Yogi.  At Yoga, I am a closet Catholic.  Now I'm everything all at once.  Garland told me one of her favorite things to do while when was at Teacher Training in Hawaii was to go to Catholic Mass with her roommate.  Steel drums, the beach, and a good swallow of Kundalini God will convert anyone.  We are the same all at once to Him.

A few random thoughts on this, the feast of the Annunciation.  (look it up, after you meditate.)  Om and out.

What's your truth?  What's your mantra?