About three weeks before my 40/40 list was scheduled to start, I was talking to one of my beloved yoga teachers, Sarah, about #7 on the list: Four Sun Salutations a Day. She was very encouraging when I expressed some reluctance about four a day for 365 days. My hesitation came from the fact that until that appointed time, I had not been doing ANY regular yoga at home.
She talked to me about how four was a really good, doable number with which to start. And she talked about The Shift. Sarah told me that there would come a point when a shift happened and things would just fall into place. I could feel the excitement of such a nebulous wonderful future event. I really wanted some things to fall into place in various areas of my life.
I have been doing four sun salutations for 18 days. During yesterday morning's practice as Cadence whined about being tired and not wanting to do them (even though she continued) I kept breathing and moving during her fuss. Depending on when we wake up, some mornings' practices are a bit rushed, but yesterday I didn't want to stop at four. If time had allowed I could feel my body, heart, and mind craving more.
Over the weekend with our schedule disrupted, we did our salutations in the evening twice. And there was something delicious about stretching and reaching right before bed. When we returned home to our regular routine, I considered switching our salutations to the evening. I heard myself say, “But I'd miss it in the morning then.”
Last night after the rest of the household was settled in for the night, I went back to my mat and did three more sun salutations. My legs felt sore, but they were straighter than they've been lately. My chatarangas are strong (I couldn't have imagined that possibility two years ago), and my breathing was calming.
I love how quickly this daily practice has become something that I not only look forward to but actually crave. I love that my mat will be my constant companion wherever I go in all of 2015. Chances are good that this practice will evolve into a life-long one.
I couldn't imagine when Sarah talked about The Shift what that would look and feel like for me, but in just three weeks time, I know it's taking effect.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
#2 Make Bread Pudding. Check.
I added baking bread pudding to my 40/40 list because it's a recipe I remember my paternal grandmother making when I was a child. She left out the raisins from the recipe because she knew I abhorred the nasty dried fruit. I've meant to make it over the years, but never have. Whatever is put on the list is guaranteed to be achieved, and thus the bread pudding was added early on.
I found a “fancy” raspberry bread pudding recipe online. I chose this past weekend to bake it because I was teen/dog/house sitting for some dear friends and their fifteen-year-old daughter, T, is an exceptional baker in her own right. I thought it would be a fun activity to do together, and I also knew she'd know what to do if I needed help. Cadence helpfully added, “T's a better cooker than you, isn't she, mama?” Um, yes, this is a fact. T IS a better cooker.
T is also likely a better shopper.
The plan was that I would leave my yoga class, and dash into Aldi's on the way back to my temporary home for the weekend. The dash quickly turned into this ridiculous scenario. I didn't have a quarter for Aldi's shopping cart. I thought that there'd be no problem. Just a handful of ingredients and I'd be on my way...
I reached the dairy coolers and got stumped. Is Heavy Whipping Cream the same as the Heavy Cream my recipe called for? I texted Nicole. Then I asked a lovely shopper with a southern drawl. She was perplexed like me, but thought yes, it is the same. I texted my mom who confirmed she thought they were the same.
The next text to my mother was to make the “how many pints are in a quart?” conversion. While I awaited her response I queried another set of shoppers. It took four of us plus one long-distance mom to determine that OMG this recipe was going to give us a heart attack or instant high cholesterol. I needed SIX PINTS of heavy whipping cream! Now my arms are holding two loaves of Italian Bread, a container of apple juice, and there is no lady-like way that my arms can carry these six cartons! People are waiting for me to sort this out, and finally one of the conversion helpers runs to my aid. We grab a box in the cooler since I need so many cartons and she helps me load it all in so that the chaos can stop, and so the rest of Aldi's shoppers can resume their previously scheduled shopping.
The next few minutes are spent with me walking around and around the store looking for another freezer that must be hiding the frozen raspberries. When I find no additional cooler, I return to the berry section and read the signs slowly. Mixed berries AND raspberries should be found here. I set down the box of imbalanced groceries on the floor, get down on my hands and knees and rummage through the fruit boxes. With some scrounging, I find two bags of raspberries. Whew!
The first lady who helped me with the heavy cream vs. heavy whipping cream question passes me whilst I'm still on the floor raspberry picking and asks if she can help me. I was struggling with yoga-weakened legs to get up off the floor in a jean skirt and pick up this crazy box of ingredients. I smiled and said no thank you.
I make it to the check out, swipe my debit card, and that damn thing gets declined. Like after each of four attempts. The kind young checker says she'll suspend my sale while I run to the ATM. This whole time I'm thinking, “This would make for hilarious television, following me around like a fool.” I also remember what my yoga teacher had told us just minutes before: Yin yoga teaches us how to not lose our cool when we find ourselves in difficult circumstances. Thank goodness for that nugget in today's class because I am calm, laughing at the situation, and staying composed.
I drive to the ATM in the shopping complex only to realize that my debit card was declined BECAUSE I DIDN'T GIVE HER MY DEBIT CARD. I handed her a different card, but didn't think to check it whilst I was at the register. I withdrew money anyway and returned to the store. I stood in line chatting with one of the friendly helpers of the great pint inquiry and then paid for my ingredients. Twenty-three dollars later, I was ready to make this pudding.
*
Cadence and T and I could not get over how much cream and sugar were required. T and Cadence read the recipe aloud to me and we leisurely made our way through the process. There was great discussion about how much bread to actually add to the creamy mixture. We decided to stick with the recipe. I chose Italian Bread because I thought it would be more absorbent than other kinds given that I didn't have time to “age” the bread.
While we were waiting the thirty minutes for the bread to soak up the ocean of cream, we played UNO.
The recipe was easy to follow and didn't take long. I spooned in the cream-absorbed bread and added the raspberry and sugar layer the spooned the remaining bread over the raspberries. There was A LOT of cream remaining. After some pro-ing and con-ing, T and I decided we'd pour some of the cream over the layers in the 9 x 13 pan.
While the yummy recipe baked in the oven, we prepared the completely unnecessary vanilla sauce. The recipe called for three sticks of butter, flour, and vanilla and asked me to heat the butter and flour together until we achieved a “nutty aroma.” Readers, THIS is one of the many reasons I have not previously been comfortable in the kitchen. I do not have a reliable sense of smell. What the heck is a nutty aroma and how will I know when I've achieved it? Thank goodness, T was with us.
We happily pulled the pudding out of the oven. My favorite quote of the night is when T said, “We're gonna be eatin' on this for days!” The pan WAS so full of this sweet berry concoction. T and Cadence had never had bread pudding and were pleasantly surprised by the final product.
I'm especially glad to have chosen a fancier version of the old stand by, and am certain that I can recreate the recipe with less cream and sugar and net the same delicious results.
#2 on the list is complete and our taste buds absolutely approve!
I found a “fancy” raspberry bread pudding recipe online. I chose this past weekend to bake it because I was teen/dog/house sitting for some dear friends and their fifteen-year-old daughter, T, is an exceptional baker in her own right. I thought it would be a fun activity to do together, and I also knew she'd know what to do if I needed help. Cadence helpfully added, “T's a better cooker than you, isn't she, mama?” Um, yes, this is a fact. T IS a better cooker.
T is also likely a better shopper.
The plan was that I would leave my yoga class, and dash into Aldi's on the way back to my temporary home for the weekend. The dash quickly turned into this ridiculous scenario. I didn't have a quarter for Aldi's shopping cart. I thought that there'd be no problem. Just a handful of ingredients and I'd be on my way...
I reached the dairy coolers and got stumped. Is Heavy Whipping Cream the same as the Heavy Cream my recipe called for? I texted Nicole. Then I asked a lovely shopper with a southern drawl. She was perplexed like me, but thought yes, it is the same. I texted my mom who confirmed she thought they were the same.
The next text to my mother was to make the “how many pints are in a quart?” conversion. While I awaited her response I queried another set of shoppers. It took four of us plus one long-distance mom to determine that OMG this recipe was going to give us a heart attack or instant high cholesterol. I needed SIX PINTS of heavy whipping cream! Now my arms are holding two loaves of Italian Bread, a container of apple juice, and there is no lady-like way that my arms can carry these six cartons! People are waiting for me to sort this out, and finally one of the conversion helpers runs to my aid. We grab a box in the cooler since I need so many cartons and she helps me load it all in so that the chaos can stop, and so the rest of Aldi's shoppers can resume their previously scheduled shopping.
The next few minutes are spent with me walking around and around the store looking for another freezer that must be hiding the frozen raspberries. When I find no additional cooler, I return to the berry section and read the signs slowly. Mixed berries AND raspberries should be found here. I set down the box of imbalanced groceries on the floor, get down on my hands and knees and rummage through the fruit boxes. With some scrounging, I find two bags of raspberries. Whew!
The first lady who helped me with the heavy cream vs. heavy whipping cream question passes me whilst I'm still on the floor raspberry picking and asks if she can help me. I was struggling with yoga-weakened legs to get up off the floor in a jean skirt and pick up this crazy box of ingredients. I smiled and said no thank you.
I make it to the check out, swipe my debit card, and that damn thing gets declined. Like after each of four attempts. The kind young checker says she'll suspend my sale while I run to the ATM. This whole time I'm thinking, “This would make for hilarious television, following me around like a fool.” I also remember what my yoga teacher had told us just minutes before: Yin yoga teaches us how to not lose our cool when we find ourselves in difficult circumstances. Thank goodness for that nugget in today's class because I am calm, laughing at the situation, and staying composed.
I drive to the ATM in the shopping complex only to realize that my debit card was declined BECAUSE I DIDN'T GIVE HER MY DEBIT CARD. I handed her a different card, but didn't think to check it whilst I was at the register. I withdrew money anyway and returned to the store. I stood in line chatting with one of the friendly helpers of the great pint inquiry and then paid for my ingredients. Twenty-three dollars later, I was ready to make this pudding.
*
Cadence and T and I could not get over how much cream and sugar were required. T and Cadence read the recipe aloud to me and we leisurely made our way through the process. There was great discussion about how much bread to actually add to the creamy mixture. We decided to stick with the recipe. I chose Italian Bread because I thought it would be more absorbent than other kinds given that I didn't have time to “age” the bread.
While we were waiting the thirty minutes for the bread to soak up the ocean of cream, we played UNO.
The recipe was easy to follow and didn't take long. I spooned in the cream-absorbed bread and added the raspberry and sugar layer the spooned the remaining bread over the raspberries. There was A LOT of cream remaining. After some pro-ing and con-ing, T and I decided we'd pour some of the cream over the layers in the 9 x 13 pan.
While the yummy recipe baked in the oven, we prepared the completely unnecessary vanilla sauce. The recipe called for three sticks of butter, flour, and vanilla and asked me to heat the butter and flour together until we achieved a “nutty aroma.” Readers, THIS is one of the many reasons I have not previously been comfortable in the kitchen. I do not have a reliable sense of smell. What the heck is a nutty aroma and how will I know when I've achieved it? Thank goodness, T was with us.
We happily pulled the pudding out of the oven. My favorite quote of the night is when T said, “We're gonna be eatin' on this for days!” The pan WAS so full of this sweet berry concoction. T and Cadence had never had bread pudding and were pleasantly surprised by the final product.
I'm especially glad to have chosen a fancier version of the old stand by, and am certain that I can recreate the recipe with less cream and sugar and net the same delicious results.
#2 on the list is complete and our taste buds absolutely approve!
Monday, January 19, 2015
Revising the stories we tell ourselves
I had an early morning skype session with Tammy. We were friends in high school, and technology reconnected us in adulthood. Our friendship feeds me in ways that are hard for me to express. Our mutual affection for each other has reinforced the idea that sameness is not an essential element in relationship. We are better friends because of our differences. Our differences are fiercely and mutually protected by the other, and I love it. We laugh and cry. We commiserate about our spirited daughters and her wise-beyond-years son. We message each other with prayer requests. We are full-service friends. The only downside is that a ten-hour drive separates us.
This morning's conversation focused on a paper she's writing for her master's. We were talking modern vs. post-modern, the Fall, original sin, Jesus, you know, light fare. We were both teacher and student to the other. The conversation moved on and we began talking about how my 4040 list is filling me and how my new daily writing habit is changing me. She said, “I'm going to be that friend that says: I TOLD YOU SO!”
And then...
“I'm having so much fun watching this happen to you. I've always known you were a writer—even in high school. It's so fun watching you figure it out.” Stop, wait, what?!?
I asked her to reflect on that a bit more and a beautiful story poured forth. She reminded me of Mrs. Deeg's composition class we'd had together. She talked about how seriously I'd taken our assignments and how even then, she knew I was a writer. She described my work as polished even in rough draft form. She reminded me that we had to trade essays and read each other's work. She told me that my writing ability had been slightly intimidating. She told me that she tells people about her friend Julie, The Writer.
And then I started to cry. The friends who “knew us when” have such a gift to offer our older selves.
I cried because the truth of her words resonated. I HAVE been a writer all this time. I just needed time to settle into what that meant for me. I cried because this friend is BRILLIANT. She and our other friends were the SMART ones. The National Honor Society kids. I cried because I was the dumb one in the group.
And then she said, “No, Julie, you weren't the dumb one. You were the writer in the group.” And my heart healed a little. I can accept that revision to the story I always told myself. I was different than our other friends. My love of words set me apart, but did not cast me out. I just marched to a different beat, and those friends loved me.
It is a gift to get to see yourself as others who love you see you. It's a greater gift when you begin to believe the story they are telling.
This morning's conversation focused on a paper she's writing for her master's. We were talking modern vs. post-modern, the Fall, original sin, Jesus, you know, light fare. We were both teacher and student to the other. The conversation moved on and we began talking about how my 4040 list is filling me and how my new daily writing habit is changing me. She said, “I'm going to be that friend that says: I TOLD YOU SO!”
And then...
“I'm having so much fun watching this happen to you. I've always known you were a writer—even in high school. It's so fun watching you figure it out.” Stop, wait, what?!?
I asked her to reflect on that a bit more and a beautiful story poured forth. She reminded me of Mrs. Deeg's composition class we'd had together. She talked about how seriously I'd taken our assignments and how even then, she knew I was a writer. She described my work as polished even in rough draft form. She reminded me that we had to trade essays and read each other's work. She told me that my writing ability had been slightly intimidating. She told me that she tells people about her friend Julie, The Writer.
And then I started to cry. The friends who “knew us when” have such a gift to offer our older selves.
I cried because the truth of her words resonated. I HAVE been a writer all this time. I just needed time to settle into what that meant for me. I cried because this friend is BRILLIANT. She and our other friends were the SMART ones. The National Honor Society kids. I cried because I was the dumb one in the group.
And then she said, “No, Julie, you weren't the dumb one. You were the writer in the group.” And my heart healed a little. I can accept that revision to the story I always told myself. I was different than our other friends. My love of words set me apart, but did not cast me out. I just marched to a different beat, and those friends loved me.
It is a gift to get to see yourself as others who love you see you. It's a greater gift when you begin to believe the story they are telling.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Word Nerd Word of the Day
One day in middle school, I stood at the locker with my best friend. I said something to her and she said, “Could you please speak English? I have no idea what that word you just used means.” This was the first of many times when my vocabulary became a topic of conversation. While I was mildly embarrassed, I was more confused. I had no idea where these words came from. I knew I used the word correctly. I loved reading, and collected words like others collected trinkets. I still love reading and writing words—a characteristic that slipped into my DNA courtesy of my paternal grandmother.
Thesaurus became a bit of a moniker (nickname) over the years. I loved it actually. I was proud of my vocabulary and the connection it made for me with my grandmother. Please be assured that I never used big words to show off or to sound uppity. That might have been a result, but it was never my intent. Words just intrigued me, entertained me, and helped me make sense of the world around me.
Today's word of the day, however, has got me thinking differently about word choice.
CONFLAGRATION
Its definition is a disastrous fire or conflict. The following sentence is the context in which I found the word in my presidential biography reading (page 196 of Jon Meacham's American Lion.) “Mrs. Eaton's affair, at the beginning, was but a spark, but what a conflagration it did cause,” she said.” The word nerd in me loves the sentence that follows for the word play Jon Meacham achieved. “Mrs. Smith had personal reasons to look forward to a bonfire.” See what he did? If you know what conflagration means as you read it the first time, then you can appreciate his reference to a bonfire.
It seems that these presidential biographers have humongous vocabularies and regularly employ them. As a writer, I'm aware of the importance of writing clearly for the reader's understanding. So here's where the conflagration (conflict) comes in for me. The sentence above would have been clearer if Mr. Meacham had simply written “what a conflict it did cause.” Then I wouldn't have needed to pull the dictionary off the shelf and hence slowed the progress of my reading. But on the flip side, I love using my dictionary and thesaurus.
Writer pauses to think of next thought, and this is what occurs to her:
Readers! It just dawned on me: HE didn't choose the word! His source did! See the “she said.” Whoever SHE was made the choice to use conflagration, not Mr. Meacham. But he had the genius to use bonfire in the next sentence!
Whew! He's off the hook for word choice—this time. And I'm going to keep loving and looking up and using big words. But I have a new appreciation for how my friend felt while we stood at our lockers. Moving forward, I'll give more consideration to my word choices.
Thesaurus became a bit of a moniker (nickname) over the years. I loved it actually. I was proud of my vocabulary and the connection it made for me with my grandmother. Please be assured that I never used big words to show off or to sound uppity. That might have been a result, but it was never my intent. Words just intrigued me, entertained me, and helped me make sense of the world around me.
Today's word of the day, however, has got me thinking differently about word choice.
CONFLAGRATION
Its definition is a disastrous fire or conflict. The following sentence is the context in which I found the word in my presidential biography reading (page 196 of Jon Meacham's American Lion.) “Mrs. Eaton's affair, at the beginning, was but a spark, but what a conflagration it did cause,” she said.” The word nerd in me loves the sentence that follows for the word play Jon Meacham achieved. “Mrs. Smith had personal reasons to look forward to a bonfire.” See what he did? If you know what conflagration means as you read it the first time, then you can appreciate his reference to a bonfire.
It seems that these presidential biographers have humongous vocabularies and regularly employ them. As a writer, I'm aware of the importance of writing clearly for the reader's understanding. So here's where the conflagration (conflict) comes in for me. The sentence above would have been clearer if Mr. Meacham had simply written “what a conflict it did cause.” Then I wouldn't have needed to pull the dictionary off the shelf and hence slowed the progress of my reading. But on the flip side, I love using my dictionary and thesaurus.
Writer pauses to think of next thought, and this is what occurs to her:
Readers! It just dawned on me: HE didn't choose the word! His source did! See the “she said.” Whoever SHE was made the choice to use conflagration, not Mr. Meacham. But he had the genius to use bonfire in the next sentence!
Whew! He's off the hook for word choice—this time. And I'm going to keep loving and looking up and using big words. But I have a new appreciation for how my friend felt while we stood at our lockers. Moving forward, I'll give more consideration to my word choices.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
A Rambling Post about Andy and Anne
The Presidential reading is moving slowly. In an insomniac's two hours, I was recently able to read more than two chapters. It didn't put me to sleep as quickly as I had anticipated, which in terms of getting my reading done is good. But my sleep and restfulness suffered. By 8:30 last night, I was spent.
I have put a lot of reading on my bucket list. Andrew Jackson's bio doesn't count as my four bios because it was my plan to have it finished before the end of the year. Anne of Green Gables will be quicker reading except for the fact that I introduced it to Cadence in a desperate attempt to get her week's quota of reading complete on Sunday night. I began reading it aloud to her, and to my astonishment, it kept her interest (it also put her to sleep, which this mama says is NOT a bad thing!) She asked for a second helping the next night.
The first night it took me awhile to get into the rhythm of reading it aloud, but once I did, Marilla and Mrs. Rachel began emerging from the page. At one point my rendition was authentic enough to make my child laugh! She looked at me and said, “Is it going to be hilarious like this the rest of the time?” I smiled and told her yes. It will be funny and sad throughout.
I was introduced to Anne of Green Gables in sixth grade. Our reading teacher, Mrs. Young, told us that we were going to do something fun when the gifted kids left for their “fun.” I'm so glad I got to stay and watch the movie. This character and her story became imprinted on my mind and heart, and I have loved her ever since.
I like the idea of me introducing Cadence to beloved Anne. She wasn't like all the other girls or kids of her time, and she found a way to forge a path for herself. That is one of the themes of her story that comforted me as an awkward, self-conscious tween all those years, and endures today as I at 40 am still forging my own way. Cadence isn't like other girls in her own ways. I wonder how Anne will resonate for her.
I hope the story can keep Cadence captivated for all 309 pages, and that I don't get impatient and resist the temptation to read ahead. Anne gets into a lot of crazy antics in this first volume. It would make for great conversation with my own little spitfire. I want this story to spark Cadence's “scope for imagination” as Anne says repeatedly and to know she can do anything and everything she sets her mind to. That would be a great by-product of this 40/40 list.
I have put a lot of reading on my bucket list. Andrew Jackson's bio doesn't count as my four bios because it was my plan to have it finished before the end of the year. Anne of Green Gables will be quicker reading except for the fact that I introduced it to Cadence in a desperate attempt to get her week's quota of reading complete on Sunday night. I began reading it aloud to her, and to my astonishment, it kept her interest (it also put her to sleep, which this mama says is NOT a bad thing!) She asked for a second helping the next night.
The first night it took me awhile to get into the rhythm of reading it aloud, but once I did, Marilla and Mrs. Rachel began emerging from the page. At one point my rendition was authentic enough to make my child laugh! She looked at me and said, “Is it going to be hilarious like this the rest of the time?” I smiled and told her yes. It will be funny and sad throughout.
I was introduced to Anne of Green Gables in sixth grade. Our reading teacher, Mrs. Young, told us that we were going to do something fun when the gifted kids left for their “fun.” I'm so glad I got to stay and watch the movie. This character and her story became imprinted on my mind and heart, and I have loved her ever since.
I like the idea of me introducing Cadence to beloved Anne. She wasn't like all the other girls or kids of her time, and she found a way to forge a path for herself. That is one of the themes of her story that comforted me as an awkward, self-conscious tween all those years, and endures today as I at 40 am still forging my own way. Cadence isn't like other girls in her own ways. I wonder how Anne will resonate for her.
I hope the story can keep Cadence captivated for all 309 pages, and that I don't get impatient and resist the temptation to read ahead. Anne gets into a lot of crazy antics in this first volume. It would make for great conversation with my own little spitfire. I want this story to spark Cadence's “scope for imagination” as Anne says repeatedly and to know she can do anything and everything she sets her mind to. That would be a great by-product of this 40/40 list.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Yoga Chatter - An Update
I have done a week's worth of sun salutations toward my goal of four a day for an entire year. The trepidation about being able to add this to my daily routine and sustain it has evaporated. It has quickly become a beautiful way to start my day.
I have an old 2012 Audrey Hepburn calendar that I am using to jot brief notes about each day's practice. I'm keeping track of the progress toward straight legs in my forward bends, the level of pain I feel in said forward bends, as well as the state of my chatarangas (the pose lowering my body in plank to the floor.) So far I haven't had to do the modified chataranga using bent legs, which means my upper body strength is building.
The surprise of this practice is that on day 5 my daughter joined me on my spare mat, and has done the four sun salutations with me daily ever since. It's a humbling, joyful experience having her join me. She takes it seriously and does her best to do the poses properly. A few days in, she asked for me to follow HER lead, and bless her heart, she did it.
One of the added features of her joining me is her chatter. Here's a sampling of the things that she's talked about as I breathe and salute the sun:
* She cried when she learned that one morning I'd done my practice without her. I agreed to do two suns with her (bringing MY total to six for that day) and afterward she said, “Wake me up tomorrow.”
* When I asked her why she liked doing yoga with me she said: “It's relaxing and I like the moves...Typically, everything about yoga is cool.” (Editorial: I LOVE when she uses the word typically.)
* “Is Santa real?”
* “Do they grade you in class?”
* “Do they call your butt in class butt or bottom?” When I told her they call it your seat, she exclaimed, “Your seat??? Why your seat???”
There's a quote (source unknown) that beautifully encapsulates this part of my practice with my daughter: “Peace – it does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” My practice is enhanced each time I can keep breathing, answer her questions quietly, remain calm, and continue without flashes of frustration.
It is really wonderful to share these quiet moments with her every morning. I have no idea what seeds are being planted as we move and breathe side-by-side. This girl has bottomless sources of energy, which often drain me. I like thinking that these sun salutations might become a lifetime source of peace and calm for her too.
I continue to repeat my word-of-the-year GENTLE to myself as my forward folds are still painful and not what I want them to be. As I say the word to myself, I really can tell that my legs are getting straighter. The accomplishment wouldn't be so sweet if it came so quickly, so I am relishing the day-by-day nature of this practice.
I have 51 weeks to go before I can cross #7 off my bucket list. I am enjoying every minute of it. Namaste.
I have an old 2012 Audrey Hepburn calendar that I am using to jot brief notes about each day's practice. I'm keeping track of the progress toward straight legs in my forward bends, the level of pain I feel in said forward bends, as well as the state of my chatarangas (the pose lowering my body in plank to the floor.) So far I haven't had to do the modified chataranga using bent legs, which means my upper body strength is building.
The surprise of this practice is that on day 5 my daughter joined me on my spare mat, and has done the four sun salutations with me daily ever since. It's a humbling, joyful experience having her join me. She takes it seriously and does her best to do the poses properly. A few days in, she asked for me to follow HER lead, and bless her heart, she did it.
One of the added features of her joining me is her chatter. Here's a sampling of the things that she's talked about as I breathe and salute the sun:
* She cried when she learned that one morning I'd done my practice without her. I agreed to do two suns with her (bringing MY total to six for that day) and afterward she said, “Wake me up tomorrow.”
* When I asked her why she liked doing yoga with me she said: “It's relaxing and I like the moves...Typically, everything about yoga is cool.” (Editorial: I LOVE when she uses the word typically.)
* “Is Santa real?”
* “Do they grade you in class?”
* “Do they call your butt in class butt or bottom?” When I told her they call it your seat, she exclaimed, “Your seat??? Why your seat???”
There's a quote (source unknown) that beautifully encapsulates this part of my practice with my daughter: “Peace – it does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” My practice is enhanced each time I can keep breathing, answer her questions quietly, remain calm, and continue without flashes of frustration.
It is really wonderful to share these quiet moments with her every morning. I have no idea what seeds are being planted as we move and breathe side-by-side. This girl has bottomless sources of energy, which often drain me. I like thinking that these sun salutations might become a lifetime source of peace and calm for her too.
I continue to repeat my word-of-the-year GENTLE to myself as my forward folds are still painful and not what I want them to be. As I say the word to myself, I really can tell that my legs are getting straighter. The accomplishment wouldn't be so sweet if it came so quickly, so I am relishing the day-by-day nature of this practice.
I have 51 weeks to go before I can cross #7 off my bucket list. I am enjoying every minute of it. Namaste.
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Word Nerd Word of the Day – Double Header plus an announcement
Andy Jackson and I spent some time together at lunch. I was making slow progress through the lead-up to the campaign for his second term. Gosh, that is some dense reading! Anyway, I wasn't sure that I'd find a word for today's installment. And then I found two.
I've seen both of these words before, but I usually pass them by not quite sure what they mean, but able to get the context enough to move on. However, today I liked the common -animity suffix and thought it was time I got a better handle on their definitions. I'm glad I did. They are great words.
Equanimity: (ee-kwa-nim-uh-tee)** 1. Evenness of mind especially under stress 2. right disposition: balance.
Magnanimity: (mag-nuh-nim-uh-tee)** 1. loftiness of spirit enabling one to bear trouble calmly, to disdain meanness and revenge, and to make sacrifices for worthy ends.
Aren't these awesome words and definitions to which to aspire? After today's stress, feelings of overwhelm, and an unclear path for accomplishing everything that was on my to-do list, I can assure you that I did not possess nor exhibit equanimity or magnanimity. But bearing trouble calmly and striking a balance are qualities I aim for most days, which is an excellent segue to the announcement of my word for 2015.
Gentle
I have had some help from caring friends who have raised my awareness about just how hard I am on myself. High standards and expectations of oneself are good in moderation, but I exhibit these to their extremes, so I am endeavoring in 2015 to be “free from harshness, sternness, or violence” toward myself. I have a great deal of room for improvement when it comes to being gentle with myself when I make a mistake, when I don't meet my own expectations, or don't accomplish what I think I should. It's kind of miserable and counterproductive. Gentle feels like the right word to meditate on as I celebrate and move through my fortieth year.
For example, my legs currently won't straighten during the forward bend portion of my daily sun salutations. I am constantly reminded how inflexible my hips and hamstrings are. I feel pain which a. hurts and b. frustrates me. Being gentle will help with this. Breathe in Gentle. Breathe out Gentle. Repeat. In time those long legs WILL straighten and my practice will improve. Gentle, Julie, Gentle.
What word resonates for you as 2015 unfolds?
**Please note these are my phonetic pronunciations. I haven't the energy to figure out how to make all the correct pronunciation marks. I'll get around to that another day.
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