- Did you abstain from coffee? Yes!
- Did you abstain from alcohol? hahah.. yeah.
- Did you abstain from gluten? pretty much yeah, I think so.
- Did you abstain from animal products? yeah, actually.
- Did you abstain from crack (aka sugar) and choose low-glycemic fruits and beter alternatives like stevia or agave? sure thing!
- Did you dry brush today? totally loving that, you bet!
- Did you clean your sinuses with the good ol neti pot? um, nah, not yet, should I?
- Did you move for body for at least thirty-five minutes? YES!
- Did you meditate for fifteen to twenty minutes? Yeah both, hello cushion, I'm back!
- Did you chew your meals thoroughly and mindfully? kind of yeah, my lunch was gross so I mindfully didn't really eat it.
- Did you laugh out loud and tell someone you loved him or her today? Well, thanks to motherhood, I have a built in person who hears I love him EVERY DAY, didn't laugh out loud, oh wait, well, not out loud enough. Make note.. laugh more!
- Did you spend time in nature? Even five minutes is better than nothing. Of course, I LIVE in the nucleus of nature.
- Did you get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep? Well, I got almost seven hours, that's an accomplishment these days.
- What did you eat today and did you juice? Include breakfast, lunch, dinner and any in-between snacking... Ok.. two big juices including beets, kale, pears, spinach, parsley, carrots, cucumber, ginger combos, plantains and yams for lunch, roasted butternut squash, home made kale chips and beefsteak tomatoes for dinner, and a little homemade chilled sesame peanut sauce covered rice noodles.
- How much purified water did you consume? Two big juices, and three 24 oz canteens.
- What supplements did you take? Omega Gel Caps, Magnesium, BComplex, Valerian, Selenium and Phyllium Husks.
- How was your elimination? I'm PMSing so it's all weird anyway.
- What time did you stop eating, three hours before bedtime is optimum. Um, good luck with THAT... still eating dinner now.
- How do you eel physically? Pretty darned awesome, no more migraines (that were constant the past few months), back pain has passed, lots of energy when I wake up and a little lighter and less bloated.
- How do you feel emotionally? Good actually, my brain is going a million miles and hour from being so out of meditation practice for so long, but I'm very much at peace with myself and my current situation. My equanimity is returning, which is really amazing. I am giving metta to strangers (especially on the road!!!!) and being pretty gentle with myself where I could certainly be treating myself rather poorly. Ya know... I am alllllright!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
crazy sexy Elissa Jane, 20 questions over 21 days...
answers for day 3
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
crazy sexy Elissa Jane
about six months ago, I had the opportunity to meet Kris Carr at her office here in Woodstock. I left with a handful of stuff, books, DVDs more books. the Crazy Sexy stack of stuff moved around my room starting with my nightstand next to my bed, to a chair at the food of the bed and eventually, to the big book shelf out in the living room with my stacks of other books.
and when I put them on on that big book shelf.... I decided I'd just leave them there.
since my last very sad post on this blog, I've spiraled down further... letting go of and losing my spirituality, quitting the gym, freezing the yoga.... three months of choosing NOT to take care of myself anymore. I felt that if 'he' wouldn't love me, I wasn't worth loving. I called myself a sham, and wanted out of my dharma practice because I felt I was unworthy.
in these past three months, I quit on myself. a turning point came last week. I wrote about it in my Death Becomes Her blog.
this past weekend, I happened upon my Crazy Sexy Diet book. OMG, did Elissa Jane say Diet? Oh hell no, I didn't. I dusted it off and began turning pages. The next day, I took myself to the Emerson Spa for a day of me, detoxing, getting rubbed and primped and scrubbed. I napped in that yummy spa robe in the sun on the deck. It was all about me. and the day after that, it began.
I got my first juicer. shoving veggies into it brought me such joy. so I'm doing this thing, yeah, a diet thing. it's kind of cool because I'm not really thinking of it as a diet but as a chance to re-worship ME. my morning elixers are delicious gifts from the green goddess. I'm caring for myself from the inside out. the Zman was downing doughnuts next to me and all I could think about was kale chips from my own oven. a continental shift in my thinking has taken place.
I'm mindful of EVERYTHING for the first time in a long time and that mindfulness includes... what I'm eating because I have decided to Love ME again.
the scale doesn't lie, I gained over 15lbs this past summer. there is a physical indicator of how much I hated on me for the choices and changes I tried to make and failed at. but I'm not a failure.... I'm a freaking Rock Star! so I'm going to treat myself like one all over again.
perhaps this sort of goddess self-worship journey has to have curves and downturns, otherwise, there's no way to commend myself for the work it takes to be loving and fabulous to myself.
I hit the meditation cushion for the first time in so long. I'm not beating myself up, but noticing how unstill my mind has become without training. instead of getting frustrated, I remind myself that I'm like a newbie all over again. practice is for me to practice being still, again.
I had no idea I could be so perky in the morning without coffee. this kale greenie juice thing gives me a lot of inspiration, it tastes so good and feels so amazing as the juice is making contact with the insides of me. don't worry, I'm NOT fasting, I'm back to clean vegan eating, lots of local fruits and veggies to enjoy.
Juice joyful combo of the day:
Bit O Ginger
6 Local Kale Stalks
Handful of Local Blackberries
1 Local Beet
1 Green Local Apple
1 Cucumber
1/2 Lemon Juice
Well, it's officially the end of Day 3. Tomorrow, I wake up and continue on the journey of me.
and when I put them on on that big book shelf.... I decided I'd just leave them there.
since my last very sad post on this blog, I've spiraled down further... letting go of and losing my spirituality, quitting the gym, freezing the yoga.... three months of choosing NOT to take care of myself anymore. I felt that if 'he' wouldn't love me, I wasn't worth loving. I called myself a sham, and wanted out of my dharma practice because I felt I was unworthy.
in these past three months, I quit on myself. a turning point came last week. I wrote about it in my Death Becomes Her blog.
this past weekend, I happened upon my Crazy Sexy Diet book. OMG, did Elissa Jane say Diet? Oh hell no, I didn't. I dusted it off and began turning pages. The next day, I took myself to the Emerson Spa for a day of me, detoxing, getting rubbed and primped and scrubbed. I napped in that yummy spa robe in the sun on the deck. It was all about me. and the day after that, it began.
I got my first juicer. shoving veggies into it brought me such joy. so I'm doing this thing, yeah, a diet thing. it's kind of cool because I'm not really thinking of it as a diet but as a chance to re-worship ME. my morning elixers are delicious gifts from the green goddess. I'm caring for myself from the inside out. the Zman was downing doughnuts next to me and all I could think about was kale chips from my own oven. a continental shift in my thinking has taken place.
I'm mindful of EVERYTHING for the first time in a long time and that mindfulness includes... what I'm eating because I have decided to Love ME again.
the scale doesn't lie, I gained over 15lbs this past summer. there is a physical indicator of how much I hated on me for the choices and changes I tried to make and failed at. but I'm not a failure.... I'm a freaking Rock Star! so I'm going to treat myself like one all over again.
perhaps this sort of goddess self-worship journey has to have curves and downturns, otherwise, there's no way to commend myself for the work it takes to be loving and fabulous to myself.
I hit the meditation cushion for the first time in so long. I'm not beating myself up, but noticing how unstill my mind has become without training. instead of getting frustrated, I remind myself that I'm like a newbie all over again. practice is for me to practice being still, again.
I had no idea I could be so perky in the morning without coffee. this kale greenie juice thing gives me a lot of inspiration, it tastes so good and feels so amazing as the juice is making contact with the insides of me. don't worry, I'm NOT fasting, I'm back to clean vegan eating, lots of local fruits and veggies to enjoy.
Juice joyful combo of the day:
Bit O Ginger
6 Local Kale Stalks
Handful of Local Blackberries
1 Local Beet
1 Green Local Apple
1 Cucumber
1/2 Lemon Juice
Well, it's officially the end of Day 3. Tomorrow, I wake up and continue on the journey of me.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
broken
thirteen years of yoga.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
things I gained... equanimity, community, peace, joy, gratitude... broken ... all so quickly. I blame no one but me. every choice for every situation I put myself in lead me to this moment.
my physical health is suffering greatly, and I know this is related to the emotional pain. I'm not taking good care of me. over the past week, I've developed kidney stones. this isn't something new. the pain is so severe that the best way to explain it, "I'd rather give birth to 5 10lb babies again and again than pass another kidney stone in my lifetime."
the medicine... pain killers and some other medications. I have not taken them as prescribed, instead, I only took them if the pain was acute to avoid abusing the meditations. yesterday, I had to take more than I wanted to, and in tandem with the other medication, my head went crazy. I lost my sober clear mind to feeling as though I couldn't feel anything physically. my mental capacity is another story. it was like being really fucked up without being high. in a way, the experience was very reminiscent of coming down off of a weekend long coke binge. big depression, huge crash.
for a good chunk of time, whirling in my physical, emotional and drug induced agony, I convinced myself that I had broken my sobriety. that my surrender to say that I needed pain medication was a sign of weakness and relapse.
I cried and sobbed, everything was just awful. and then something came that I didn't expect. as I felt as though I had ended my 1207 days of clean time in a whirlwind of discomfort.... an unexpected sigh of relief came. sigh, finally, it is over. I can be normal now.
I wanted to talk about it, but the emotions were so extensive, I didn't know how. relief came with the idea that I had made it this far and that I could stop working so hard and feeling so much day after day. I was off the hook. I could smoke a bowl and drink a glass of wine like everyone else. for 26 years I didn't have a clue what emotions were. up until I got clean, I assumed I might actually be one of those sociopaths, because I was so passionately cool and ambivelent about things people seemed to think I needed to react differently towards. men considered me cold, Ice Queen was a nick name I relished.
last night, after leaving the office, walking down the street, sunglasses on, playing my iPod, sucking in Lafayette where I have walked countless times at countless hours for countless reasons, moving slowly towards the subway ..... the rush came, I was overcome by the realization that it was official, I had been anhilated by life and fully broken.
I know my experience was exacerbated by a combination of sort of involuntary ingestion of medicine I took to help me get past excrutiating physical pain.
in the process of spiraling to the ultimate emotional low, I came to some strong realizations. it has occurred to me that in the path of poor choices I have been making... I have morphed into someone else. for the first time in my life, I stopped being strong and let go of all my armor. I introduced a vulnerable and honest me to another human being, and in a short time I got very hurt. the scary thing is, the person I was turning into was someone I do not like. I loathed watching myself become attached to impossible outcomes and hopeful for a life that was never going to be. My self-control and self respect disintegrated around me, and I compromised myself with the hopes that I could trust someone, and failed miserably at being the true Elissa Jane.
it is sad that it took days of excruciating physical pain combined with the heinous effects of Vicodin consumption to realize that the only way to stop hating myself was to end a relationship I thought would never end.
my heart breaks... and breaks... and breaks. but in reality, the only way I can get myself back is to stay as far away from the person for whom I was so willing to change and change and change.
I tried desperately to please and impress this other person so that I could be appealing to the needs of someone else. every intention I had was to get attention, which I was losing with each and ever moment I was turning into this repugnant needy girl. in the end, I only continued to torture myself more and more to the point that I do not recognize me anymore. where did I go? what happened to the cool, independent, balanced, serene me I worked so hard to become over such a long diligent period of time? it was almost instantaneous that I crumbled over a feeling of daily rejection and perpetual heartbreak for what was not going to happen.
thirteen years of yoga.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
and I'm in worse shape than I ever was. where did I go wrong? I can answer that, it just seems like a good moment to post the rhetorical obvious. in the past few months, I've cried more than I did when my dog died. I mourned more loss than when my marriage ended. how did I come to believe so strongly that I had found 'the one' only to discover that I was so incredibly wrong?
technically, according to my friends and support network, I'm still sober. my sobriety has not yet been compromised. while I did get fucked up from drugs, it was not the kind of use that will end my day count.
tonight I sat in the room where I normally facilitate my weekly dharma punx group, and announced that it is time for me to resign. if I am giving up on myself, how can I continue to be in service to anyone else?
when I died a year ago, I had one regret, that I never had the chance to fall in love before the end. well, I almost fully fell, wrongly, deeply, wrongly and now I cannot see... with the big life I have ahead, how I'll ever be able to be open hearted with anyone ever again. visceral connections for aliens like me are almost impossible to come by. I suppose I should be grateful that in this ocean of existence a few of the drops of time included little moments where I felt a 'connection', no matter how slight and immeasurable, at least I know that maybe it is possible. perhaps my next lifetime. oh look, I think I just expelled a hint of gratitude. maybe there's hope for me after all. I don't think I have another 42 years in me to wait for the next one. sigh.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
things I gained... equanimity, community, peace, joy, gratitude... broken ... all so quickly. I blame no one but me. every choice for every situation I put myself in lead me to this moment.
my physical health is suffering greatly, and I know this is related to the emotional pain. I'm not taking good care of me. over the past week, I've developed kidney stones. this isn't something new. the pain is so severe that the best way to explain it, "I'd rather give birth to 5 10lb babies again and again than pass another kidney stone in my lifetime."
the medicine... pain killers and some other medications. I have not taken them as prescribed, instead, I only took them if the pain was acute to avoid abusing the meditations. yesterday, I had to take more than I wanted to, and in tandem with the other medication, my head went crazy. I lost my sober clear mind to feeling as though I couldn't feel anything physically. my mental capacity is another story. it was like being really fucked up without being high. in a way, the experience was very reminiscent of coming down off of a weekend long coke binge. big depression, huge crash.
for a good chunk of time, whirling in my physical, emotional and drug induced agony, I convinced myself that I had broken my sobriety. that my surrender to say that I needed pain medication was a sign of weakness and relapse.
I cried and sobbed, everything was just awful. and then something came that I didn't expect. as I felt as though I had ended my 1207 days of clean time in a whirlwind of discomfort.... an unexpected sigh of relief came. sigh, finally, it is over. I can be normal now.
I wanted to talk about it, but the emotions were so extensive, I didn't know how. relief came with the idea that I had made it this far and that I could stop working so hard and feeling so much day after day. I was off the hook. I could smoke a bowl and drink a glass of wine like everyone else. for 26 years I didn't have a clue what emotions were. up until I got clean, I assumed I might actually be one of those sociopaths, because I was so passionately cool and ambivelent about things people seemed to think I needed to react differently towards. men considered me cold, Ice Queen was a nick name I relished.
last night, after leaving the office, walking down the street, sunglasses on, playing my iPod, sucking in Lafayette where I have walked countless times at countless hours for countless reasons, moving slowly towards the subway ..... the rush came, I was overcome by the realization that it was official, I had been anhilated by life and fully broken.
I know my experience was exacerbated by a combination of sort of involuntary ingestion of medicine I took to help me get past excrutiating physical pain.
in the process of spiraling to the ultimate emotional low, I came to some strong realizations. it has occurred to me that in the path of poor choices I have been making... I have morphed into someone else. for the first time in my life, I stopped being strong and let go of all my armor. I introduced a vulnerable and honest me to another human being, and in a short time I got very hurt. the scary thing is, the person I was turning into was someone I do not like. I loathed watching myself become attached to impossible outcomes and hopeful for a life that was never going to be. My self-control and self respect disintegrated around me, and I compromised myself with the hopes that I could trust someone, and failed miserably at being the true Elissa Jane.
it is sad that it took days of excruciating physical pain combined with the heinous effects of Vicodin consumption to realize that the only way to stop hating myself was to end a relationship I thought would never end.
my heart breaks... and breaks... and breaks. but in reality, the only way I can get myself back is to stay as far away from the person for whom I was so willing to change and change and change.
I tried desperately to please and impress this other person so that I could be appealing to the needs of someone else. every intention I had was to get attention, which I was losing with each and ever moment I was turning into this repugnant needy girl. in the end, I only continued to torture myself more and more to the point that I do not recognize me anymore. where did I go? what happened to the cool, independent, balanced, serene me I worked so hard to become over such a long diligent period of time? it was almost instantaneous that I crumbled over a feeling of daily rejection and perpetual heartbreak for what was not going to happen.
thirteen years of yoga.
four years of hard core spiritual buddhist work.
1207 days of clean time.
and I'm in worse shape than I ever was. where did I go wrong? I can answer that, it just seems like a good moment to post the rhetorical obvious. in the past few months, I've cried more than I did when my dog died. I mourned more loss than when my marriage ended. how did I come to believe so strongly that I had found 'the one' only to discover that I was so incredibly wrong?
technically, according to my friends and support network, I'm still sober. my sobriety has not yet been compromised. while I did get fucked up from drugs, it was not the kind of use that will end my day count.
tonight I sat in the room where I normally facilitate my weekly dharma punx group, and announced that it is time for me to resign. if I am giving up on myself, how can I continue to be in service to anyone else?
when I died a year ago, I had one regret, that I never had the chance to fall in love before the end. well, I almost fully fell, wrongly, deeply, wrongly and now I cannot see... with the big life I have ahead, how I'll ever be able to be open hearted with anyone ever again. visceral connections for aliens like me are almost impossible to come by. I suppose I should be grateful that in this ocean of existence a few of the drops of time included little moments where I felt a 'connection', no matter how slight and immeasurable, at least I know that maybe it is possible. perhaps my next lifetime. oh look, I think I just expelled a hint of gratitude. maybe there's hope for me after all. I don't think I have another 42 years in me to wait for the next one. sigh.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
bye bye baby...
as my forty-second birthday looms in the path ahead... a great sadness seems to be overtaking me... for it marks a deadline I cannot change. the alarm clock went off ages ago, and I keep hitting the snooze button, over... and Over... AND OVER... in a month, I have to accept... I've run out of snooze buttons... and there will be no turning back.
being a mom was NEVER one of my goals, being married was for suckers, having kids was for jerk offs who needed someone to control. oh my rant went on and on. I didn't want kids. I didn't want that sort of responsibility. my mom was (still is) an abusive bitch and I was going to break the cycle by never having children and never being anything like her.
I found these conformist institutions like marriage and baby making for those other people who had unfulfilled lives.
my sister was slated to be the one to get married, have kids and follow the expected route through adulthood. not Elissa Jane!!! not ME! when my now ex-husband asked me to marry him, I laughed. not like a small giggle, no, I LAUGHED...... because I couldn't believe this was something anyone would ever ask of me.
but it happened. I married him. and a year and a half later on October 17th, 2001 he got me pregnant. something happened... that thing inside me became a baby, my baby, and my chance to do good in this world. I suddenly had reason, purpose, something other than me to think about.
my pregnancy was more than hard. I lived with a staunch hard core alcoholic who decided that I was the enemy. I got pregnant on purpose and I did it to him. for ten months (my son was very late) I endured abuse, mostly verbal and some physical and lived in constant fear. my pregnancy was NOTHING like the movies. I cried a lot, and waited home alone for a husband who was blowing what little money we didn't have at the bars, falling asleep on benches, avoiding me and our home. I lived in fear and couldn't imagine how I could be worthy of bringing a life into this world. if my pregnancy was any indicator of life ahead, I was doomed.
on July 18th, 2002... they cut Zoren Samuel Mastel out of my belly. they held his squished up crying body up so I could see him. he was there, here. they handed him to Randall who was the very first person to hold him. it was the only time I've ever seen Randall cry. in that instant, I watched that asshole fall in love with our perfect little son, "look at your mom, this is your mommy, isn't she brave, she worked so hard to have you, I love you, we're a family.... "
everything I difficult I had endured melted away, and hope arrived. Zoren was born. we were a family. for a moment.
in the days that followed, while I recovered in the hospital, Randall was out celebrating at the bar. he barely came to see us. when we came home, he was out as fast as lightening, and out drinking every night. I actually had to call the cops and I kicked him out of the house.
they say children change you. the arrival of Motherhood certainly changed me. from that moment I realized I was pregnant, to the moment I gave birth, I had one mission... to put this little person ahead of everything else. I opened a business to support us, and have fought hard to keep us afloat for the past nine years. people would ask me how I do so much, how do I juggle it all? my response would always be, "being his mom is easy, it is life that is so hard."
I wanted more kids. I wanted to make up for the shitty pregnancy, and have one where I got to be the doted on pregnant woman. I wanted a baby with whom I could spend a maternity leave with. sheesh, I wanted to get to have a maternity leave! I had hoped for a partner who was excited about the baby inside me. I wanted all the stuff you see in the movies that I never got to have because I was living with a drunk douche bag the first time around.
after begging and pleading, we tried for a second. and failed. I had five miscarriages in two years. it was unbearably painful to watch my fellow mommy friends getting pregnant again while I endured life as a broken woman. my body just wouldn't do it. I suppose I should be grateful now, having two kids as a single mom would be so incredibly insanely hard. (Carla, woman, I do not know how you do it!)
I was meant to be a mom, I love being a mother. in my entire accomplished life, nothing compares to being able to make boo boos better with my kisses and leh'monem cookies (=M+M Cookies, took a while for Z to be able to say 'M+M') for school functions. pregnancy might have ruined my body, but it did something beautiful to my soul. in these years I've learned patience, I've given up my selfish lifestyle and put this other person first. I've had to learn to set boundaries and rules, yes, I'm even a decent disciplinarian. I know the true meaning of unconditional love, and I'm proud to say that I've broken the cycle of abuse and pain from my mom.
it may sound cliche, but my life was kind of meaningless before I became a parent.
last week, I went to the 35th Annual Phoenicia Square Dance with my son on my arm as my date, head held, erm, not really very high.. but my son and I danced together... I socialized and accepted where I'm at in life, the cosmopolitan single mom transplant. there are easy days, where I look at my gorgeous, perfect kiddo and say, yeah, life is good just like this.
and then... there's the alarm clock that stopped going off. no more snooze buttons to push. I had been hopeful that by now I would have met someone, had another kiddo, been moved onto my next marriage and my next phase of my life. samsara didn't dole that out as my lot. yeah, I'm turning forty-two next month. this was the deadline, the final year, the last chance. reality has settled in, there will be no more kids for me. it's really incredibly sad. it is time to let go of my attachment to hope, there won't be another chance at a great love... and there definitely isn't going to be another baby. what a shame, I made such gorgeous awesome kiddos and I'm such an awesome mom, how could you not want to get me pregnant? sigh.
we all have our trigger for what causes us suffering... and now you know mine, the deep rooted truth... and now... to the hope I have been clinging onto I say, "bye bye baby.... "
being a mom was NEVER one of my goals, being married was for suckers, having kids was for jerk offs who needed someone to control. oh my rant went on and on. I didn't want kids. I didn't want that sort of responsibility. my mom was (still is) an abusive bitch and I was going to break the cycle by never having children and never being anything like her.
I found these conformist institutions like marriage and baby making for those other people who had unfulfilled lives.
my sister was slated to be the one to get married, have kids and follow the expected route through adulthood. not Elissa Jane!!! not ME! when my now ex-husband asked me to marry him, I laughed. not like a small giggle, no, I LAUGHED...... because I couldn't believe this was something anyone would ever ask of me.
but it happened. I married him. and a year and a half later on October 17th, 2001 he got me pregnant. something happened... that thing inside me became a baby, my baby, and my chance to do good in this world. I suddenly had reason, purpose, something other than me to think about.
my pregnancy was more than hard. I lived with a staunch hard core alcoholic who decided that I was the enemy. I got pregnant on purpose and I did it to him. for ten months (my son was very late) I endured abuse, mostly verbal and some physical and lived in constant fear. my pregnancy was NOTHING like the movies. I cried a lot, and waited home alone for a husband who was blowing what little money we didn't have at the bars, falling asleep on benches, avoiding me and our home. I lived in fear and couldn't imagine how I could be worthy of bringing a life into this world. if my pregnancy was any indicator of life ahead, I was doomed.
on July 18th, 2002... they cut Zoren Samuel Mastel out of my belly. they held his squished up crying body up so I could see him. he was there, here. they handed him to Randall who was the very first person to hold him. it was the only time I've ever seen Randall cry. in that instant, I watched that asshole fall in love with our perfect little son, "look at your mom, this is your mommy, isn't she brave, she worked so hard to have you, I love you, we're a family.... "
everything I difficult I had endured melted away, and hope arrived. Zoren was born. we were a family. for a moment.
in the days that followed, while I recovered in the hospital, Randall was out celebrating at the bar. he barely came to see us. when we came home, he was out as fast as lightening, and out drinking every night. I actually had to call the cops and I kicked him out of the house.
they say children change you. the arrival of Motherhood certainly changed me. from that moment I realized I was pregnant, to the moment I gave birth, I had one mission... to put this little person ahead of everything else. I opened a business to support us, and have fought hard to keep us afloat for the past nine years. people would ask me how I do so much, how do I juggle it all? my response would always be, "being his mom is easy, it is life that is so hard."
I wanted more kids. I wanted to make up for the shitty pregnancy, and have one where I got to be the doted on pregnant woman. I wanted a baby with whom I could spend a maternity leave with. sheesh, I wanted to get to have a maternity leave! I had hoped for a partner who was excited about the baby inside me. I wanted all the stuff you see in the movies that I never got to have because I was living with a drunk douche bag the first time around.
after begging and pleading, we tried for a second. and failed. I had five miscarriages in two years. it was unbearably painful to watch my fellow mommy friends getting pregnant again while I endured life as a broken woman. my body just wouldn't do it. I suppose I should be grateful now, having two kids as a single mom would be so incredibly insanely hard. (Carla, woman, I do not know how you do it!)
I was meant to be a mom, I love being a mother. in my entire accomplished life, nothing compares to being able to make boo boos better with my kisses and leh'monem cookies (=M+M Cookies, took a while for Z to be able to say 'M+M') for school functions. pregnancy might have ruined my body, but it did something beautiful to my soul. in these years I've learned patience, I've given up my selfish lifestyle and put this other person first. I've had to learn to set boundaries and rules, yes, I'm even a decent disciplinarian. I know the true meaning of unconditional love, and I'm proud to say that I've broken the cycle of abuse and pain from my mom.
it may sound cliche, but my life was kind of meaningless before I became a parent.
last week, I went to the 35th Annual Phoenicia Square Dance with my son on my arm as my date, head held, erm, not really very high.. but my son and I danced together... I socialized and accepted where I'm at in life, the cosmopolitan single mom transplant. there are easy days, where I look at my gorgeous, perfect kiddo and say, yeah, life is good just like this.
and then... there's the alarm clock that stopped going off. no more snooze buttons to push. I had been hopeful that by now I would have met someone, had another kiddo, been moved onto my next marriage and my next phase of my life. samsara didn't dole that out as my lot. yeah, I'm turning forty-two next month. this was the deadline, the final year, the last chance. reality has settled in, there will be no more kids for me. it's really incredibly sad. it is time to let go of my attachment to hope, there won't be another chance at a great love... and there definitely isn't going to be another baby. what a shame, I made such gorgeous awesome kiddos and I'm such an awesome mom, how could you not want to get me pregnant? sigh.
we all have our trigger for what causes us suffering... and now you know mine, the deep rooted truth... and now... to the hope I have been clinging onto I say, "bye bye baby.... "
Monday, May 16, 2011
everything happens for a reason
Over the course of this past weekend, I had several conversations that seemed to lead me back to one of my least favorite phrases, "Everything happens for a reason." Man I hate that expression. Really, everything? I think if you're evolved enough, you can easily find lessons in EVERYTHING that happens in life.
I do believe that events happen as a combination of fate and free-will. While I don't believe that there is a puppet master pulling strings trying to guide our experiences, I do recognize the intricate web all of our karma creates weaving experiences together in what feels something like fate.
Many people say that we come together with other people for a reason, that there is a destiny that can justify how people meet. I wish I could believe that the people in my life have placement in my world because of this romantic notion that we were meant to meet. Unfortunately, I just can't fully get on board with the idea that each and every person in my life has an intrinsic purpose and a part to play and that it was pre-destined that we'd meet.
None the less... I took a good look at the people in my life this weekend... going back in time, wandering the streets of the neighborhoods where I lived, worked, made impressions and created connections with hosts of people, wandering by old apartments, bars I drank in, shops I shopped in, places I rolled my son in his stroller, my old Urban Monster store front and the vacant space where our favorite coffee once was... I could see details that continue to remain a constant and the changes. I was able to identify how I have made a mark on people in a time line that makes up my life with the symbolism of architectural details which remain and the things that were new and different.
Soaking in nostalgic feelings of a lifetime behind me and seeing old friends with whom I shared a sense of community at one point highlighted snapshots of a lifetime's journey behind me. I have met so many people in my almost forty-two years of life. At different points, many of them have had a purpose for why they entered my life. Each of them connects me and anchors me to humanity in someway or another. In the mix of people I saw over the weekend... there were people I am close to, people I used to be close to, and some people with whom I am no longer friends. Time changes, and each of these people have taught me something, even if the thing they presented me was merely that feeling of community and human connection. There's something really great as an alien like freak to have that feeling of being able to connect with someone else on any level.
One thing I'm super grateful for right now are the people with whom I am closest to right now. I have a small circle of friends in my life right now with whom I'd say I have deep connections with. Everyone in my life right at this moment has a purpose, because the people in my life today mirror a more authentic version of myself than I've ever portrayed before. As I continue to evolve and grow, I'm attracting new people into my life who provide me with a new sense of connection and deeper level of understanding and support.
You see, it isn't the universe or a puppeteer who brings this love into my life... it is me. My action, my change, my evolution isn't so different from the store fronts of Smith Street. There is change and there are constants, it won't stop the gentrification of the neighborhood. It may make some people sad to see a shop close... but it only makes room for something new to take it's place. And honestly, if you don't like it, you can do like I did, and MOVE up and out all together.
I do believe that events happen as a combination of fate and free-will. While I don't believe that there is a puppet master pulling strings trying to guide our experiences, I do recognize the intricate web all of our karma creates weaving experiences together in what feels something like fate.
Many people say that we come together with other people for a reason, that there is a destiny that can justify how people meet. I wish I could believe that the people in my life have placement in my world because of this romantic notion that we were meant to meet. Unfortunately, I just can't fully get on board with the idea that each and every person in my life has an intrinsic purpose and a part to play and that it was pre-destined that we'd meet.
None the less... I took a good look at the people in my life this weekend... going back in time, wandering the streets of the neighborhoods where I lived, worked, made impressions and created connections with hosts of people, wandering by old apartments, bars I drank in, shops I shopped in, places I rolled my son in his stroller, my old Urban Monster store front and the vacant space where our favorite coffee once was... I could see details that continue to remain a constant and the changes. I was able to identify how I have made a mark on people in a time line that makes up my life with the symbolism of architectural details which remain and the things that were new and different.
Soaking in nostalgic feelings of a lifetime behind me and seeing old friends with whom I shared a sense of community at one point highlighted snapshots of a lifetime's journey behind me. I have met so many people in my almost forty-two years of life. At different points, many of them have had a purpose for why they entered my life. Each of them connects me and anchors me to humanity in someway or another. In the mix of people I saw over the weekend... there were people I am close to, people I used to be close to, and some people with whom I am no longer friends. Time changes, and each of these people have taught me something, even if the thing they presented me was merely that feeling of community and human connection. There's something really great as an alien like freak to have that feeling of being able to connect with someone else on any level.
One thing I'm super grateful for right now are the people with whom I am closest to right now. I have a small circle of friends in my life right now with whom I'd say I have deep connections with. Everyone in my life right at this moment has a purpose, because the people in my life today mirror a more authentic version of myself than I've ever portrayed before. As I continue to evolve and grow, I'm attracting new people into my life who provide me with a new sense of connection and deeper level of understanding and support.
You see, it isn't the universe or a puppeteer who brings this love into my life... it is me. My action, my change, my evolution isn't so different from the store fronts of Smith Street. There is change and there are constants, it won't stop the gentrification of the neighborhood. It may make some people sad to see a shop close... but it only makes room for something new to take it's place. And honestly, if you don't like it, you can do like I did, and MOVE up and out all together.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
voicemail from the universe
Being a Spiritual Atheist presents its challenges, I mean my life is full of conundrums! I'm not a fan of woo woo new age self-help trends du jour. I have a lot of aversion around things that become mainstream, and hipster spirituality doesn't really garner a connection for me. I literally hate that Bikram guy, giggle at astrology (sort of), scoff at The Secret, and believe that oxygen bars are inane and raw food is just wrong (*1). So what the hell do you believe if you're an Atheist anyway? For me, I believe what I see. If I don't see it, I can't really believe it. But what if I'm acutely aware and mindful of more than the average person? How does that work out?
Hey, I'm a seeker, and I know I've done some crazy things to explore the path to serenity. I can appreciate people's need to dip their toes in a host of pools or believe in gods they don't know or see. I respect people's need to believe and am willing to accept that I may really be wrong and they really might be right. I waffle on the god idea, I mean I'm an atheist, there is no god but every once in a while... my interpretation of 'god' does present itself to me. One example of this ... back to the car drama that began last week. I was stuck last Sunday on the Major Deegan, overheating by Yankee Stadium, stuck with thousands of people around me, STUCK! STUCK! STUCK! I managed to get off the highway and landed by a cop at the bottom of a ramp by the stadium. What I had to do do get down this ramp was more than a test ... but I did make it. As I sat there helpless, wondering what on earth I was going to do, Officer Reyes came over and assured me that he would be back with a 'plan' for me.
Where could I go? I sat and waited, patiently. The reality was, I was powerless. I just had to wait until something changed and a pathway presented itself other than the path I kept trying to push towards. Officer Reyes did return and gave me explicit directions, a back way through the Bronx. I wrote the details down and read them back several times. I looked at this piece of paper with the directions and back at the Officer and had this moment, thinking, 'shit, this is one of those God moments, like this guy just read me God's Voicemail!'
I followed his directions. They were simple to follow. It wasn't easy to stay his course, once I got going, I had plenty of other options I could have taken but I decided that his directions were given to me for a reason. I made a decision to believe that his directions would be my only way OUT of there and back home. It worked! I did get out of the mess and home. I survived because I followed his 'plan'. I truly believe that if I veered from his path I would have gotten stuck again.
So there I go again, wondering about cosmic coincidences, signs, little 'things' that pop up randomly to give me a direction and help me make choices. If enough messages get through, I am easily dissuaded into believing that that is the way to go. I do listen to people and find that I can be quickly influenced to change my point of view, especially when the messages are coming through. Officer Reyes was clear, I got what his purpose was. He intended to help me and I had faith in him. That's kind of 'my god' talking to me, through the karma of other people. His directions totally worked! I stayed his course and escaped the city after 5 failed attempts. His guidance set me free.
Yesterday, something strange happened while I was doing the laundry. A small item fell out of the dryer that normally would have been thrown in the trash. A little foil wrapper literally blew out and landed in my hand. I looked at it, shocked really. I knew what it was and when I received it. Are you kidding? The memory of it is indelible in my mind. I've even shared about the moment I received its contents with a couple of my very, very close girlfriends when I was blabbing the tale about my weekend. But how oh how did this small bit of what should be trash end up surviving the journey and ending up in my hands that morning. As I looked upon it, and told Zoren what it was, he lovingly said, "you should keep it mommy".
Was it simply a bit of trash that was in the pocket of a garment I wore a week ago and somehow never got cleared out? Was it really just an empty wrapper that needed to be disposed of? Or is this another sign from the universe, something I should not ignore. Stuff like this doesn't normally survive my diligent laundry process. I'm pretty good about emptying pockets, throwing things away and preparing my laundry for my effort. How did this random item end up flying out of the dryer, landing in my hands and looking as though it were meant to be saved. Strange.
I decided to take Zoren's advice and save it, at least for the time being. If it is in fact some sort of sign or memento, I'll be glad I saved it. If it's really just a bit of trash, I can always throw it out later. It sucks not being able to just have faith in this unknown messaging service and just believe that there could be a hidden meaning.
I'm definitely struggling spiritually right now. In my life are gray lines instead of concrete boundaries and I'm getting myself into a situation that is only going to plague me with pain in the end, it is inevitable. When I stray from the middle way of my path like this, I find myself asking some unknown life force to 'help me' figure things out. Navigating this world alone is hard. Adding the hopes that a higher power of some kind is walking along side me certainly would make things a lot easier. I could take the responsibility and burden of my own free will and destiny and put it on something I can't meet, see, hear or interact with.
Someone said to me this week that I should follow my 'belly' and that I truly know what the right thing to do is. The problem is my gut is totally contradicting my rational thought. My instincts and my actions are not in alignment. I'm finding myself in this new predicament incredibly uncomfortable a lot of the time. I'm not used to this feeling anymore, because I haven't put myself in a situation that has forced me to cope with uncomfortability in a very long time. I'm breaking my cardinal rule, 'cut what messes with my serenity." Sure life is full of difficult and awkward moments, but right now I feel awkward in my skin all the time. I haven't felt this unsure of myself in ages.
The worst part is, I seem to have given up my self-control. Every time I pull it together and make a firm choice to have integrity for myself, something triggers and I waffle... I keep drawing lines in the proverbial sand only to walk right over them and do something other than what I've promised myself moments before. I tried to remove myself from the situation, go back to isolating and focusing on other things. The signs and the crazy intuition I'm feeling deep in my belly are contradicting my once scientific and cool way of thinking.
I'm really struggling with sitting with what is... right... now.
Why did I create a memento out of this inconsequential thing as it flew out of the dryer? Is it a sign of some sort? Jeez, why can't I see it is a bit of trash to be thrown away? I'm so confused. Why can't I just toss it out? Why does it have to mean anything?
(*1) NOTE: Please accept my apology if I've offended you in in any way with my judgment and remarks. I truly respect all people's choice in faith, religion and spiritual practice. If you eat raw food or practice differently or believe in God I think that's totally and awesome and cool for you.
Hey, I'm a seeker, and I know I've done some crazy things to explore the path to serenity. I can appreciate people's need to dip their toes in a host of pools or believe in gods they don't know or see. I respect people's need to believe and am willing to accept that I may really be wrong and they really might be right. I waffle on the god idea, I mean I'm an atheist, there is no god but every once in a while... my interpretation of 'god' does present itself to me. One example of this ... back to the car drama that began last week. I was stuck last Sunday on the Major Deegan, overheating by Yankee Stadium, stuck with thousands of people around me, STUCK! STUCK! STUCK! I managed to get off the highway and landed by a cop at the bottom of a ramp by the stadium. What I had to do do get down this ramp was more than a test ... but I did make it. As I sat there helpless, wondering what on earth I was going to do, Officer Reyes came over and assured me that he would be back with a 'plan' for me.
Where could I go? I sat and waited, patiently. The reality was, I was powerless. I just had to wait until something changed and a pathway presented itself other than the path I kept trying to push towards. Officer Reyes did return and gave me explicit directions, a back way through the Bronx. I wrote the details down and read them back several times. I looked at this piece of paper with the directions and back at the Officer and had this moment, thinking, 'shit, this is one of those God moments, like this guy just read me God's Voicemail!'
I followed his directions. They were simple to follow. It wasn't easy to stay his course, once I got going, I had plenty of other options I could have taken but I decided that his directions were given to me for a reason. I made a decision to believe that his directions would be my only way OUT of there and back home. It worked! I did get out of the mess and home. I survived because I followed his 'plan'. I truly believe that if I veered from his path I would have gotten stuck again.
So there I go again, wondering about cosmic coincidences, signs, little 'things' that pop up randomly to give me a direction and help me make choices. If enough messages get through, I am easily dissuaded into believing that that is the way to go. I do listen to people and find that I can be quickly influenced to change my point of view, especially when the messages are coming through. Officer Reyes was clear, I got what his purpose was. He intended to help me and I had faith in him. That's kind of 'my god' talking to me, through the karma of other people. His directions totally worked! I stayed his course and escaped the city after 5 failed attempts. His guidance set me free.
Yesterday, something strange happened while I was doing the laundry. A small item fell out of the dryer that normally would have been thrown in the trash. A little foil wrapper literally blew out and landed in my hand. I looked at it, shocked really. I knew what it was and when I received it. Are you kidding? The memory of it is indelible in my mind. I've even shared about the moment I received its contents with a couple of my very, very close girlfriends when I was blabbing the tale about my weekend. But how oh how did this small bit of what should be trash end up surviving the journey and ending up in my hands that morning. As I looked upon it, and told Zoren what it was, he lovingly said, "you should keep it mommy".
Was it simply a bit of trash that was in the pocket of a garment I wore a week ago and somehow never got cleared out? Was it really just an empty wrapper that needed to be disposed of? Or is this another sign from the universe, something I should not ignore. Stuff like this doesn't normally survive my diligent laundry process. I'm pretty good about emptying pockets, throwing things away and preparing my laundry for my effort. How did this random item end up flying out of the dryer, landing in my hands and looking as though it were meant to be saved. Strange.
I decided to take Zoren's advice and save it, at least for the time being. If it is in fact some sort of sign or memento, I'll be glad I saved it. If it's really just a bit of trash, I can always throw it out later. It sucks not being able to just have faith in this unknown messaging service and just believe that there could be a hidden meaning.
I'm definitely struggling spiritually right now. In my life are gray lines instead of concrete boundaries and I'm getting myself into a situation that is only going to plague me with pain in the end, it is inevitable. When I stray from the middle way of my path like this, I find myself asking some unknown life force to 'help me' figure things out. Navigating this world alone is hard. Adding the hopes that a higher power of some kind is walking along side me certainly would make things a lot easier. I could take the responsibility and burden of my own free will and destiny and put it on something I can't meet, see, hear or interact with.
Someone said to me this week that I should follow my 'belly' and that I truly know what the right thing to do is. The problem is my gut is totally contradicting my rational thought. My instincts and my actions are not in alignment. I'm finding myself in this new predicament incredibly uncomfortable a lot of the time. I'm not used to this feeling anymore, because I haven't put myself in a situation that has forced me to cope with uncomfortability in a very long time. I'm breaking my cardinal rule, 'cut what messes with my serenity." Sure life is full of difficult and awkward moments, but right now I feel awkward in my skin all the time. I haven't felt this unsure of myself in ages.
The worst part is, I seem to have given up my self-control. Every time I pull it together and make a firm choice to have integrity for myself, something triggers and I waffle... I keep drawing lines in the proverbial sand only to walk right over them and do something other than what I've promised myself moments before. I tried to remove myself from the situation, go back to isolating and focusing on other things. The signs and the crazy intuition I'm feeling deep in my belly are contradicting my once scientific and cool way of thinking.
I'm really struggling with sitting with what is... right... now.
Why did I create a memento out of this inconsequential thing as it flew out of the dryer? Is it a sign of some sort? Jeez, why can't I see it is a bit of trash to be thrown away? I'm so confused. Why can't I just toss it out? Why does it have to mean anything?
(*1) NOTE: Please accept my apology if I've offended you in in any way with my judgment and remarks. I truly respect all people's choice in faith, religion and spiritual practice. If you eat raw food or practice differently or believe in God I think that's totally and awesome and cool for you.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
yeah haw the single mom honky tonk blues
I know it may sound like a broken record over and over throughout this blog.. but here it comes... while I sing ya.. the single mom blues. Over the past 5 years I've learned to go from being dependent on my partner to get through life to an incredibly independent Woman. I mean, have I had a choice? Sure I have my chill dharma yoga meditation practice, but that's not quelling the fundamental need to NOT be alone all the time. Most days, it has become routine to raise my son and walk this earth alone, but this week threw me some really hard core triggers that really made me scream F.M.L. over and over.
When Zoren was born, I remember people asking all these questions about what parenthood was like... my standard answer then was, "being Zoren's mom is easy, it's all this life around me that's really hard." He was the most amazing, loving, happy baby. The kid never cried, was always amenable and liked all people. He laughed constantly and everything was near perfect for the first 19 months.
He learned to walk before he was one... and I remember him falling and hurting himself in my shop one day... he fell and cut his chin, blood spilling out of his face. This was just the beginning. he learned to bite me and bruised me from head to toe, he learned to talk back, Zman got in fights in preschool, hurt other kids, got hurt, became a victim of a bully, acted out, hated me, wouldn't put on his shoes every morning for two years without me yelling, sassed teachers, sassed me and all this time... I've had to maintain some sort of composure and figure out how to help and fix this kid and his phases. We have done family counseling and sit together and talk quietly. Sometimes he likes to meditate with me, I really like that.
I gotta tell you... nine years later... being a mom isn't always so easy. Doing it on my own has been pretty darned challenging.
In the early years when I was still married, I remember meeting single moms and wondering how the hell they do it. I'd think that would never be me, I'd be married forever. That would never happen to me. Of course, what we resist, persists and sure enough here I am... touting phrases like, "Single moms rock!" and throwing around my unsure sense of liberated feminism in order to put strength behind a situation I really don't want to be in.
This entire week has been nothing but car trouble. I can't tell you how sucky it is being a Cartarded JAP Princess getting stuck with a car that won't drive properly. It's my own fault, I've been driving it into the ground for weeks. Sitting on the side of the road last weekend with the car overheating... I managed to play EJ MacGyver and figured out how to aleviate the situation and get us from point A to Point B. At first I felt empowered, like shit, I can do this! By Sunday, I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear... I wanted some man to come and swoop me up in his BatPlane and pick my car up with a crane and take it to his BatCave where his trusty butler fixit man would get rid of it and buy me a newer more reliable one.
Whenever I meet a guy who can fix cars, I swoon at the idea that he will be my perfect match and that I'll never struggle or suffer the plight of driving a piece of crap old car anymore... that he will save the day and save me. I had a guy who used to work on my cars, and I loved him. When we first started dating he took my car to the car wash and detailed it for me in the 90 degree heat... I fell in love with him right there and then. He replaced my alternator, fixed all the little broken things, he fixed and fixed and split... ACK!
Today I was stuck on the side of the Throughway, car smoking while I stood there in my Prada high heels. Why am I single??? I cried out... how can this be? I hate this shit, I really do. The tow truck came, the car got fixed but I felt so vulnerable, like how is it that I had to pay for help. It really utterly sucked. When I get stuck, which happens, I hate this feeling that I just don't know who I'm supposed to call to help me. I have to handle my whole life on my own. It's so challenging. It really is.
Tonight was another one of those school/town functions where I get to strut my stuff as the token City Chick Single Mom who moved upstate to do over her life...yes, tonight was the 35th annual Phoenicia Square Dance... Zman was my date, it was mommy and me time. As usual, I showed up, just him and me for the whole town to see. Dads a plenty in their western shirts and wedding rings, staying clear..... that Ms. French and Ms. Howe looking down their noses at me... I sat in the corner, alone as I always do... sipping $.50 cups of lemonade in styrofoam cups watching the social scene of Phoenicia unfold in front of me. In the four years I've lived up here, I've learned their faces, many of their names, had playdates, saw them at the 'anonymous' meetings and certainly have gotten to chat with them over the years on field trips and at birthday parties. I've found my way in to this community..... the single mom from the city and her little dark funkified child.
Over the years, the dread has waned and I've grown a little more comfortable each time I go to school to participate in these functions. I've certainly made some friendly connections among the fellow parents, but I just don't fit in. I could blame myself for not really getting involved enough, but there's something very 'mean girls' about the PTA that always triggers great aversion for me.
But something this night was different from all the other school function nights. Leading up to the big square dance ... my son was so enthusiastic that we were going to this event. He bought bandannas for us in the little school store, his was blue, mine was bright pink and he was proud to have picked one so girlie just for me. We took our time putting our outfits together and even I got a little excited. I did manage to get my little cowpoke to be my dance partner, and we had fun square dancing together, in fact we had a blast. I let him be him, running around with his friends, getting lost and being a kid having fun. There was a moment while I swung on the swing set watching him interact with his classmates in the playground under the dusk filled sky, the crescent moon over the mountains and the stars just beginning to emerge. I wanted to leave and get the eff out of there, but I decided to just put him first and let him play while I observed. Him and his friends ran amok making up new games and hunting each other down in various forms of tag and hide and seek. At one point, he called out to me in a loud whisper, "I love you mommy," from a hiding spot. I smiled.
As parents came and scooped up their kids, Zoren did something he rarely does anymore, he reached for my hand and stayed close as we walked out to leave. He held My Hand for all his friends to see! Pulling me close, my too cool child said, "I love you mommy, I had the best time because you let me be me. I love that you let me be me, you're the best mommy. Thanks for dancing with me, that was fun."
After thinking for a moment, I decided to agree. Why not decide that tonight was fun, wasn't it? I'm ok with getting used to being the token hipster city single mom. There's some parts of the act I don't mind... the dads who talk to me about music, telling my wacky dating stories, all my comedic jokes ... it's not really that bad. My friend's partner said to me tonight, "what, how is it that you're totally single? I figured you had a stable of men, you're too fine to be alone. I just don't believe that, you just need to walk out the door and you'll get someone." Hah hah, if only that were true, but thank you for saying it anyway.
Look at my life... the struggle, the complications and me, wacky nutty me. No one could possibly want to step into all of this. You don't just get me, you have to take on me and my kid, we're this package... it's no wonder I'm on my own... we're a tough world to walk into. We're family, we're all the things family represents and becoming one of us must be an unfathomable idea for most guys I'm sure.
Snuggling up with Zman at bedtime, he was so elated that we had so much fun that he declared that it's Mother's Day Weekend because of all the work I do. He has decided that one day isn't enough, he wants me to know that I'm the best mommy so he's gonna make me breakfast tomorrow. He acknowledged how hard it is for me, and promised to do more chores around the house and stop being so messy.
Two seconds later I sat down on droplets of Zman's pee on the the toilet seat. Yuck. He swears to me he'll lift the seat from now on as part of my Mother's Day present. AWESOME!
When Zoren was born, I remember people asking all these questions about what parenthood was like... my standard answer then was, "being Zoren's mom is easy, it's all this life around me that's really hard." He was the most amazing, loving, happy baby. The kid never cried, was always amenable and liked all people. He laughed constantly and everything was near perfect for the first 19 months.
He learned to walk before he was one... and I remember him falling and hurting himself in my shop one day... he fell and cut his chin, blood spilling out of his face. This was just the beginning. he learned to bite me and bruised me from head to toe, he learned to talk back, Zman got in fights in preschool, hurt other kids, got hurt, became a victim of a bully, acted out, hated me, wouldn't put on his shoes every morning for two years without me yelling, sassed teachers, sassed me and all this time... I've had to maintain some sort of composure and figure out how to help and fix this kid and his phases. We have done family counseling and sit together and talk quietly. Sometimes he likes to meditate with me, I really like that.
I gotta tell you... nine years later... being a mom isn't always so easy. Doing it on my own has been pretty darned challenging.
In the early years when I was still married, I remember meeting single moms and wondering how the hell they do it. I'd think that would never be me, I'd be married forever. That would never happen to me. Of course, what we resist, persists and sure enough here I am... touting phrases like, "Single moms rock!" and throwing around my unsure sense of liberated feminism in order to put strength behind a situation I really don't want to be in.
This entire week has been nothing but car trouble. I can't tell you how sucky it is being a Cartarded JAP Princess getting stuck with a car that won't drive properly. It's my own fault, I've been driving it into the ground for weeks. Sitting on the side of the road last weekend with the car overheating... I managed to play EJ MacGyver and figured out how to aleviate the situation and get us from point A to Point B. At first I felt empowered, like shit, I can do this! By Sunday, I wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear... I wanted some man to come and swoop me up in his BatPlane and pick my car up with a crane and take it to his BatCave where his trusty butler fixit man would get rid of it and buy me a newer more reliable one.
Whenever I meet a guy who can fix cars, I swoon at the idea that he will be my perfect match and that I'll never struggle or suffer the plight of driving a piece of crap old car anymore... that he will save the day and save me. I had a guy who used to work on my cars, and I loved him. When we first started dating he took my car to the car wash and detailed it for me in the 90 degree heat... I fell in love with him right there and then. He replaced my alternator, fixed all the little broken things, he fixed and fixed and split... ACK!
Today I was stuck on the side of the Throughway, car smoking while I stood there in my Prada high heels. Why am I single??? I cried out... how can this be? I hate this shit, I really do. The tow truck came, the car got fixed but I felt so vulnerable, like how is it that I had to pay for help. It really utterly sucked. When I get stuck, which happens, I hate this feeling that I just don't know who I'm supposed to call to help me. I have to handle my whole life on my own. It's so challenging. It really is.
Tonight was another one of those school/town functions where I get to strut my stuff as the token City Chick Single Mom who moved upstate to do over her life...yes, tonight was the 35th annual Phoenicia Square Dance... Zman was my date, it was mommy and me time. As usual, I showed up, just him and me for the whole town to see. Dads a plenty in their western shirts and wedding rings, staying clear..... that Ms. French and Ms. Howe looking down their noses at me... I sat in the corner, alone as I always do... sipping $.50 cups of lemonade in styrofoam cups watching the social scene of Phoenicia unfold in front of me. In the four years I've lived up here, I've learned their faces, many of their names, had playdates, saw them at the 'anonymous' meetings and certainly have gotten to chat with them over the years on field trips and at birthday parties. I've found my way in to this community..... the single mom from the city and her little dark funkified child.
Over the years, the dread has waned and I've grown a little more comfortable each time I go to school to participate in these functions. I've certainly made some friendly connections among the fellow parents, but I just don't fit in. I could blame myself for not really getting involved enough, but there's something very 'mean girls' about the PTA that always triggers great aversion for me.
But something this night was different from all the other school function nights. Leading up to the big square dance ... my son was so enthusiastic that we were going to this event. He bought bandannas for us in the little school store, his was blue, mine was bright pink and he was proud to have picked one so girlie just for me. We took our time putting our outfits together and even I got a little excited. I did manage to get my little cowpoke to be my dance partner, and we had fun square dancing together, in fact we had a blast. I let him be him, running around with his friends, getting lost and being a kid having fun. There was a moment while I swung on the swing set watching him interact with his classmates in the playground under the dusk filled sky, the crescent moon over the mountains and the stars just beginning to emerge. I wanted to leave and get the eff out of there, but I decided to just put him first and let him play while I observed. Him and his friends ran amok making up new games and hunting each other down in various forms of tag and hide and seek. At one point, he called out to me in a loud whisper, "I love you mommy," from a hiding spot. I smiled.
As parents came and scooped up their kids, Zoren did something he rarely does anymore, he reached for my hand and stayed close as we walked out to leave. He held My Hand for all his friends to see! Pulling me close, my too cool child said, "I love you mommy, I had the best time because you let me be me. I love that you let me be me, you're the best mommy. Thanks for dancing with me, that was fun."
After thinking for a moment, I decided to agree. Why not decide that tonight was fun, wasn't it? I'm ok with getting used to being the token hipster city single mom. There's some parts of the act I don't mind... the dads who talk to me about music, telling my wacky dating stories, all my comedic jokes ... it's not really that bad. My friend's partner said to me tonight, "what, how is it that you're totally single? I figured you had a stable of men, you're too fine to be alone. I just don't believe that, you just need to walk out the door and you'll get someone." Hah hah, if only that were true, but thank you for saying it anyway.
Look at my life... the struggle, the complications and me, wacky nutty me. No one could possibly want to step into all of this. You don't just get me, you have to take on me and my kid, we're this package... it's no wonder I'm on my own... we're a tough world to walk into. We're family, we're all the things family represents and becoming one of us must be an unfathomable idea for most guys I'm sure.
Snuggling up with Zman at bedtime, he was so elated that we had so much fun that he declared that it's Mother's Day Weekend because of all the work I do. He has decided that one day isn't enough, he wants me to know that I'm the best mommy so he's gonna make me breakfast tomorrow. He acknowledged how hard it is for me, and promised to do more chores around the house and stop being so messy.
Two seconds later I sat down on droplets of Zman's pee on the the toilet seat. Yuck. He swears to me he'll lift the seat from now on as part of my Mother's Day present. AWESOME!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Rot Town Road Trip
What a difference a day makes... after a chaotic dramatic Sunday, I entered Monday... open to getting the eff out of dodge and driving an unbelievable five hours to facilitate a 1.5 hour Rochester Dharma Punx meeting. I wasn't sure what was going to ensue, what I would offer or what kind of service I could be to anyone else. My head and heart were battered and done in, my emotional equanimity all off quilter. When I'm not really in a good balanced place, I often feel like a bamboozling shamster, like those guys who used to sell the magic elixir tonics at the turn of the century. I know how to fix you, drink this!
I don't think I really evaluated the length of the drive before I planned on making the journey. It was quite the long venture.
Mind you, I actually LOVE being in my car for long periods of time, I talk on the phone, play my music loud and enjoy the people watching and of course, my love of driving fast is affectionately sated on 270 miles of never ending highway. I was looking forward to my drive time, but snags in the drama of the life I can't control through my co-pilot into the mix, Zbot ended up coming along for the ride. My much-anticipated five hours of alone time was now altered to be keeping the kiddo calm time. We argued over the music, had to stop all the times he had to pee, had to get him food at some MacDonald’s at a rest stop. This was not part of the plan. Nothing leading up to my adventure was part of the plan and let me tell you, life through me some wretched dramatic curve balls before I left for my Rot City adventure.
By the time I landed at the White Lotus Tibetan Buddhist center I was so incredulously emotionally and physically exhausted, I had the shakes. I was worried that I'd be that tonic selling con woman, with nothing authentic to offer. I had rehearsed parts of my dharma talk in my head in the car in between Zbot's ramblings and debates over iPod music selection. I felt like a lower percentage of whole myself, about to present the dharma to a group of strangers who most likely had some expectations about me.
Upon arrival in Rochester, we got a quick bite, which I was very excited about. Instead I spent most of the meal begging my son to eat the quesadilla generously given to him, which was draining on my wanting to devote my attention to my hosts. He was defiant, as he is so very good at. I felt last shreds of my spiritual groovy capabilities slipping from me. .... and I HAD TO PEE! The restaurant wouldn't offer me the use of their bathroom, and I seriously felt my teeth floating the entire meal.
It was time to begin the meeting. I had all sorts of things with me, readings, my cushion, my phone that I use as a timer to arrange. Desperately, I really needed to find a bathroom. I felt like I'd never find that settling space I'm so attached to so that I can do my soft shoe. On top of the hustle to be ready for the meeting, I had my son whimpering about the computer not working and not being able to find his favorite game screaming, oh gads SCREAMING from the other room, "mommy ... mommy." Let me tell you, this shit combined with life's laywoman responsibilities is really fricking hard. I did manage to leave him behind with a stern tone, and nestled myself into my cushion hoping to find space from the stress of the journey and the day behind me.
That is when I quietly took a breath, and another one, and another one, I forced a smile upon my face which gradually went from fixed to authentic as I opened myself to the room, the new faces, the energy of the space and the decor and the Buddhas. In the way I instruct so many others, I set an intention to be of service and my intention was to be in service to EVERYONE who was in that room. That is when the release came. I was relieved of my chaos the moment I set an intention to care for others. When I let go of my needs and self-interest, I became abundantly present and even excited for the moments that would follow.
Like magic, my overall well-being shifted when I made the moment about a bunch of somebody else’s and got over the 'Me Me Me'.
The meeting was amazing, for me. I loved being able to share my take on the dharma, my understanding of the story and the history and my passion for practice. I tuned in to each and every person and brought in his or her ideas. I abandoned the talk I rehearsed from days before, to the night before and on my way in the car for hours and hours. The discussion was about what the group chose and I was neutral about changing everything up for the conscious of the group experience. The meeting went an hour longer than usual. People took turns and shared honestly.
What I was reminded was that there is a reason I've been working so hard at this stuff. I do have a purpose in this community, there is sangha for me wherever I go. I do have something beautiful to offer even in my darker times, all I have to do is turn my attention outward toward the betterment of others and the love of people besides myself. All the craving and dissatisfaction I had arrived with had become irrelevant.
I drove home a different person because I've re-focused my effort towards the connection I have with others. My priorities are not on what I'm not getting in my life ... I'm putting my energy towards being in service and sharing what I can to help others combat their suffering. I have two new sponsees in the Buddhist recovery scene as of today. I'm elated to be working one on one with people who want what I have. Wow, what a concept. People actually want what I have? If only they know all the other stuff I endure... hah hah... well, I am only a mere mortal human, just like everyone else.
I don't think I really evaluated the length of the drive before I planned on making the journey. It was quite the long venture.
Mind you, I actually LOVE being in my car for long periods of time, I talk on the phone, play my music loud and enjoy the people watching and of course, my love of driving fast is affectionately sated on 270 miles of never ending highway. I was looking forward to my drive time, but snags in the drama of the life I can't control through my co-pilot into the mix, Zbot ended up coming along for the ride. My much-anticipated five hours of alone time was now altered to be keeping the kiddo calm time. We argued over the music, had to stop all the times he had to pee, had to get him food at some MacDonald’s at a rest stop. This was not part of the plan. Nothing leading up to my adventure was part of the plan and let me tell you, life through me some wretched dramatic curve balls before I left for my Rot City adventure.
By the time I landed at the White Lotus Tibetan Buddhist center I was so incredulously emotionally and physically exhausted, I had the shakes. I was worried that I'd be that tonic selling con woman, with nothing authentic to offer. I had rehearsed parts of my dharma talk in my head in the car in between Zbot's ramblings and debates over iPod music selection. I felt like a lower percentage of whole myself, about to present the dharma to a group of strangers who most likely had some expectations about me.
Upon arrival in Rochester, we got a quick bite, which I was very excited about. Instead I spent most of the meal begging my son to eat the quesadilla generously given to him, which was draining on my wanting to devote my attention to my hosts. He was defiant, as he is so very good at. I felt last shreds of my spiritual groovy capabilities slipping from me. .... and I HAD TO PEE! The restaurant wouldn't offer me the use of their bathroom, and I seriously felt my teeth floating the entire meal.
It was time to begin the meeting. I had all sorts of things with me, readings, my cushion, my phone that I use as a timer to arrange. Desperately, I really needed to find a bathroom. I felt like I'd never find that settling space I'm so attached to so that I can do my soft shoe. On top of the hustle to be ready for the meeting, I had my son whimpering about the computer not working and not being able to find his favorite game screaming, oh gads SCREAMING from the other room, "mommy ... mommy." Let me tell you, this shit combined with life's laywoman responsibilities is really fricking hard. I did manage to leave him behind with a stern tone, and nestled myself into my cushion hoping to find space from the stress of the journey and the day behind me.
That is when I quietly took a breath, and another one, and another one, I forced a smile upon my face which gradually went from fixed to authentic as I opened myself to the room, the new faces, the energy of the space and the decor and the Buddhas. In the way I instruct so many others, I set an intention to be of service and my intention was to be in service to EVERYONE who was in that room. That is when the release came. I was relieved of my chaos the moment I set an intention to care for others. When I let go of my needs and self-interest, I became abundantly present and even excited for the moments that would follow.
Like magic, my overall well-being shifted when I made the moment about a bunch of somebody else’s and got over the 'Me Me Me'.
The meeting was amazing, for me. I loved being able to share my take on the dharma, my understanding of the story and the history and my passion for practice. I tuned in to each and every person and brought in his or her ideas. I abandoned the talk I rehearsed from days before, to the night before and on my way in the car for hours and hours. The discussion was about what the group chose and I was neutral about changing everything up for the conscious of the group experience. The meeting went an hour longer than usual. People took turns and shared honestly.
What I was reminded was that there is a reason I've been working so hard at this stuff. I do have a purpose in this community, there is sangha for me wherever I go. I do have something beautiful to offer even in my darker times, all I have to do is turn my attention outward toward the betterment of others and the love of people besides myself. All the craving and dissatisfaction I had arrived with had become irrelevant.
I drove home a different person because I've re-focused my effort towards the connection I have with others. My priorities are not on what I'm not getting in my life ... I'm putting my energy towards being in service and sharing what I can to help others combat their suffering. I have two new sponsees in the Buddhist recovery scene as of today. I'm elated to be working one on one with people who want what I have. Wow, what a concept. People actually want what I have? If only they know all the other stuff I endure... hah hah... well, I am only a mere mortal human, just like everyone else.
Monday, March 21, 2011
rhythm rug pulled out from under me
oftentimes, I relish my space and alone time living upstate. without hesitation, I spend many weekends curled up in pjs reading a book as a choice. no longer fettered to the idea that I must be at 'the party' to be happy, I find solace in my personal time doing things like running, writing, yoga, watching nature go by and meditating. a former and much cooler incarnation of myself would barf at the sight of this new and evolved me. sometimes, I look at my life and think, um really?
but the party girl is far from 'gone', she just prefers to be more selective about her weekends. this weekend, the party girl inside was ready to come out to play.
in this ongoing struggle to walk the middle-way, also known as living a peaceful Life, I've come to a new realization.... ready? here it comes....
Expectations are just delusions. They are NOT reality. The only thing we have is right now in this moment. Everything I plot as a wanted outcome will not happen, because it is an expectations and thus, they are not real. My expectations always cause me suffering because my internal mental planning never pans out the way I think it will go.
oh yes. every expectation I have ever had has lead me down a dark road of craving and attachment to an outcome didn't pan out in reality the way it came to fruition in my monkey mind.
these past few weeks, months.... who am I kidding, my entire lifetime has been filled with communication errors, cluster fucks and breakdowns. I picture in my mind that things will go a certain way, without factoring in the present moment and that maybe, just maybe, the other people involved didn't have the same plan.
looking at life with this new perspective, it is more evident to me now than ever that life was just happening, and the reason it 'appeared' as though things weren't going my was that.... things weren't going along with my EXPECTATIONS. oh hot damn!
I've been putting a lot of energy around this idea of letting go and just BEING Still with what is. my perspective on the work I'm doing around surrendering and accepting has once again shifted.
this past weekend, I had a plot and a plan with an itinerary and schedule essential to maximizing my 48 hour party plan. it was a celebration weekend, the full moon with my Luna family, and celebrating 'three' the magic number (* winking *) and a great party to get my groooooooooOOOoooOOOoooOOOOoooove on. I had it all arranged, pockets of people with assigned events and plans, reservations, locations and such, only to have it all mixed up, moved around and rearranged by outside forces. an earlier incarnation of myself might have curled up and cried at the fact that my carefully organized agenda was falling apart not only at the seams but there where holes, and gaps and well, it was disintegrating right before my eyes. but the me of today had a different point of view.
I've been thinking a lot about the foundations of my dharma practice and the Third Noble Truth. letting go of my attachment to expectations is the key to maintaining my peaceful mind. by surrendering to the plan of the universe, I'm giving myself the gift of FREEDOM from agonizing over my unmet expectations. this practice worked for most of the weekend.
there were the surprises. someone who was a very close friend who had hurt me greatly decided to make an amends to me on Saturday night in the middle of the dance floor. there I was, hot and sweaty, while this person faced me, held me and spoke his truth about how important I am to him. for the first time in months, he was opening his heart to me and apologizing for misusing our friendship. without sharing details, I can tell you that he opened up a can of worms and from that point on, one after the other, the confessions and proclamations of Love and Respect continued to flow from more and more people in the room. this was the theme of my evening, one by one, friends cleaning up our friendships and making things right by either sharing with me old resentments or making amends for stuff that happened between us. some party! so much for losing my mind in the music, I was too busy being present for one person after another. talk about bonding!
on Saturday night I was inundated by love, that was accompanied by many truths. and .... more was revealed, while I surrendered to it and let it happen.
for twenty years, this group of friends have become my family, my home and when they tell me the words, "I Love You." I know that this sentiment is authentic. I have had to walk through much of my life on my own, and yet, when I return to this group of friends, I know that I belong. our years of friendship has transcended trends, openings, closings, my marriage, my dog Scooter Pie and so many phases of my life. these people have supported me emotionally without letting me down or letting go from then to now. these friends are more than a group or a tribe, they are 'my people'. we share a common history. we are bonded for life by a history few can truly understand.
the dichotomy between that life and my life upstate is so pronounced, I can literally feel a tremendous difference walking around NYC vs the ease of my chillage lil cabin life nestled in the styx. both have their advantages, of course, NYC's grimy exoskeleton fits me like a favorite worn out hoodie sweatshirt. up here, there's fresh air, and ease of time, a smiling face and plenty of space. down there, I need to squish up against people to carve out my spot, ingest millions of snippets of dialog, screaming angry, shouting, stench and the thing I adore most... the attitude of so many people (including me) who act like they are entitled to be treated with some sort of special treatment. fortunately, I've learned to let that go too.
I've made many clusters of friends along the way since I moved to this area, and I've shed most of them like a snake sheds skins. my favorite line my friend fab friend Susan Pipperado said to me in regards to my recycling social circles a few years ago is, "they weren't your people." my tribe is in NYC.... but I'm a nomad, a chameleon and open to new connections. the way I feel with my NYC friends can be proprietary to them. I can stay open to new kinds of relationships and find new ways to build support around me, and I have people here to love me and catch me when I fall. I have built up a new community here, my dharma sangha, my neighbors and the special people who accept and are growing to love the quirky wacky girl that is me. I must remind myself to keep giving this portion of my adventure a chance, to stay in it. you know what, it is ok to belong to more than one tribe. my survival depends on it.
headed 'home'. driving north. there is a distinct transition as I drive through the exit 19 toll off the throughway towards the last 20 miles of my trip up 28w. my heart beats change tempo, my foot lifts up off the gas peddle a little, I change the music and crack the windows to invite in the fresh air. it feels so good to pull into my driveway and see my little brown wooden dwelling waiting for me patiently. I may still call NYC Home, but my Heart is still beating in the woods of Willow. and so, the upstate journey continues.
but the party girl is far from 'gone', she just prefers to be more selective about her weekends. this weekend, the party girl inside was ready to come out to play.
in this ongoing struggle to walk the middle-way, also known as living a peaceful Life, I've come to a new realization.... ready? here it comes....
Expectations are just delusions. They are NOT reality. The only thing we have is right now in this moment. Everything I plot as a wanted outcome will not happen, because it is an expectations and thus, they are not real. My expectations always cause me suffering because my internal mental planning never pans out the way I think it will go.
oh yes. every expectation I have ever had has lead me down a dark road of craving and attachment to an outcome didn't pan out in reality the way it came to fruition in my monkey mind.
these past few weeks, months.... who am I kidding, my entire lifetime has been filled with communication errors, cluster fucks and breakdowns. I picture in my mind that things will go a certain way, without factoring in the present moment and that maybe, just maybe, the other people involved didn't have the same plan.
looking at life with this new perspective, it is more evident to me now than ever that life was just happening, and the reason it 'appeared' as though things weren't going my was that.... things weren't going along with my EXPECTATIONS. oh hot damn!
I've been putting a lot of energy around this idea of letting go and just BEING Still with what is. my perspective on the work I'm doing around surrendering and accepting has once again shifted.
this past weekend, I had a plot and a plan with an itinerary and schedule essential to maximizing my 48 hour party plan. it was a celebration weekend, the full moon with my Luna family, and celebrating 'three' the magic number (* winking *) and a great party to get my groooooooooOOOoooOOOoooOOOOoooove on. I had it all arranged, pockets of people with assigned events and plans, reservations, locations and such, only to have it all mixed up, moved around and rearranged by outside forces. an earlier incarnation of myself might have curled up and cried at the fact that my carefully organized agenda was falling apart not only at the seams but there where holes, and gaps and well, it was disintegrating right before my eyes. but the me of today had a different point of view.
I've been thinking a lot about the foundations of my dharma practice and the Third Noble Truth. letting go of my attachment to expectations is the key to maintaining my peaceful mind. by surrendering to the plan of the universe, I'm giving myself the gift of FREEDOM from agonizing over my unmet expectations. this practice worked for most of the weekend.
there were the surprises. someone who was a very close friend who had hurt me greatly decided to make an amends to me on Saturday night in the middle of the dance floor. there I was, hot and sweaty, while this person faced me, held me and spoke his truth about how important I am to him. for the first time in months, he was opening his heart to me and apologizing for misusing our friendship. without sharing details, I can tell you that he opened up a can of worms and from that point on, one after the other, the confessions and proclamations of Love and Respect continued to flow from more and more people in the room. this was the theme of my evening, one by one, friends cleaning up our friendships and making things right by either sharing with me old resentments or making amends for stuff that happened between us. some party! so much for losing my mind in the music, I was too busy being present for one person after another. talk about bonding!
on Saturday night I was inundated by love, that was accompanied by many truths. and .... more was revealed, while I surrendered to it and let it happen.
for twenty years, this group of friends have become my family, my home and when they tell me the words, "I Love You." I know that this sentiment is authentic. I have had to walk through much of my life on my own, and yet, when I return to this group of friends, I know that I belong. our years of friendship has transcended trends, openings, closings, my marriage, my dog Scooter Pie and so many phases of my life. these people have supported me emotionally without letting me down or letting go from then to now. these friends are more than a group or a tribe, they are 'my people'. we share a common history. we are bonded for life by a history few can truly understand.
the dichotomy between that life and my life upstate is so pronounced, I can literally feel a tremendous difference walking around NYC vs the ease of my chillage lil cabin life nestled in the styx. both have their advantages, of course, NYC's grimy exoskeleton fits me like a favorite worn out hoodie sweatshirt. up here, there's fresh air, and ease of time, a smiling face and plenty of space. down there, I need to squish up against people to carve out my spot, ingest millions of snippets of dialog, screaming angry, shouting, stench and the thing I adore most... the attitude of so many people (including me) who act like they are entitled to be treated with some sort of special treatment. fortunately, I've learned to let that go too.
I've made many clusters of friends along the way since I moved to this area, and I've shed most of them like a snake sheds skins. my favorite line my friend fab friend Susan Pipperado said to me in regards to my recycling social circles a few years ago is, "they weren't your people." my tribe is in NYC.... but I'm a nomad, a chameleon and open to new connections. the way I feel with my NYC friends can be proprietary to them. I can stay open to new kinds of relationships and find new ways to build support around me, and I have people here to love me and catch me when I fall. I have built up a new community here, my dharma sangha, my neighbors and the special people who accept and are growing to love the quirky wacky girl that is me. I must remind myself to keep giving this portion of my adventure a chance, to stay in it. you know what, it is ok to belong to more than one tribe. my survival depends on it.
headed 'home'. driving north. there is a distinct transition as I drive through the exit 19 toll off the throughway towards the last 20 miles of my trip up 28w. my heart beats change tempo, my foot lifts up off the gas peddle a little, I change the music and crack the windows to invite in the fresh air. it feels so good to pull into my driveway and see my little brown wooden dwelling waiting for me patiently. I may still call NYC Home, but my Heart is still beating in the woods of Willow. and so, the upstate journey continues.
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