Metta

May you dwell in the divine flow of your life's journey.
May you accept yourself, and the people, events
and circumstances of your life.
May you be open to the blessings of the challenges you face.
May you have courage and strength to trust the divine.
May you be open to possibility.
May you gracefully reach for help when you need it,
and offer help when you are able.
May you embrace and embody your gifts with confidence and passion.
May you live with compassion, with patience and with love.
May you brim over with gratitude.
May you know joy and serenity.
May you know the abundance of your life.
May you live with ease.

May 2009 bring forth the best in you.
Namaste

Facebook

Nope. I'm not on Facebook. Maybe someday. I don't know. My husband is. I've been amused to check it out vicariously. People find people that they had forgotten about. They reconnect and then sometimes wish that they hadn't bothered reconnecting. But then, sometimes one Facebook friend leads to another and another and suddenly you find someone you wished you had never forgotten about. It's a place abundant with serendipity.

Tonight I had dinner with my husband an old lost friend that he found on Facebook. They knew each other for about a year about twenty three years ago. What a strange thing to reconnect to someone who knows you, sort of, from only one tiny slice of your life. This friend is a world traveler, blending theology and HIV prevention/education. He serves as a conduit for information and resources, helping local leaders set up programs to help their communities.

I listened as my husband and his friend traded stories of the past twenty three years, feeling a bit like the proverbial fly on the wall. Once those formalities were over a bit of ease entered the conversation. I discovered that my knowledge base had virtually no overlap with that of my husband's rediscovered friend. And I was fascinated by that. He could talk easily about a wide-range of topics that I was curious about, and, I like to think, the opposite was true as well. I suspect that we all could talk for hours and hours enriching and expanding each others' lives.

In what world do I meet and have dinner with an intriguing visitor from London with whom I have only the most tenuous connection? At what other time in history would this connection ever had been made? The odd power of social webs to connect people leaves me in awe.

Savoring

Tonight is a me night. And I don't feel like blogging much tonight. I feel like reading. Curled up on the couch with a mug of peppermint tea. Mmmm...

All day today thoughts have been coalescing in my head. Pieces from this theory and that practice. Ideas from this book and that person. It's all the same. Wonderfully different perspectives of the same incredible thing. And it's so cool to begin to understand not just that they're talking about the same thing, but how they're parallel. This is the best part.

And I'm finally learning how to enjoy the process of coalescing ideas - just sit back and relax. Most of the time I'm desperate to push them along. This time I recognize that reading with Dee Dee and reading on the couch and living through the details of today are helping the process along more than I could ever hope to by pushing. This time I'm savoring the process and it's delicious.

Rest

Sometimes it's best to rest. Sometimes that's obvious. Like when you're sick or injured. Other times it feels at odds with what you need to do. Like when you're overwhelmed by your To Do list.

I'm learning about rest. Resting into the way things are. I'm learning that sometimes the best thing to do when life feels difficult and impossible is to stop and rest. Despite appearances (after all I do like challenges), I believe that life is meant to be lived with ease. All of that resistance and difficulty is a sign telling us to rest. Whatever needs to be accomplished will be much easier after a rest.

I think that sometimes just the recharging that takes place during rest is what creates the shift. But more often, I think, something shifts in our thinking, in our problem solving, that creates the shift. Maybe we just get unstuck from whatever place we're in when we take a moment or an hour or a day to rest. Our perspective widens and possibilities come into our awareness. Possibilities that were always there, but our focus was too narrow to see them. Rest widens our view. And then shift happens.

Or maybe, by waiting, we learn something new which makes a new solution possible. Or maybe the new information allows us to see that what we thought HAD to be done, doesn't have to be done at all. But if we had kept pushing and pushing, driving towards the completion of our To Do list, we would have just worked ourselves into a tizzy, stressed our and anxious. By choosing to rest we find a way to live with ease.

Of course the worry is that we will just lay around waiting for inspiration to strike us and nothing will ever get done. So where is the line? I suppose that when you have a To Do list, no matter how long it is, and you are working calmly, contentedly, in a focused manner, keep going. But when you start feeling anxious, stressed and irritable, take a rest.

I like rest. It feels so nice and it creates more ease in my life. How good is that?

Wanting

My cat Pip always knows what he wants. And he asks for it directly and clearly. Same with Pookie. She always knows what she wants and never hesitates to ask for it as clearly as she can.

Then there's Dee Dee and Little Dudely. They used to always know what they wanted, and demand it. But as they're growing up they seem to be losing touch with that core of knowing.

Why is it that we learn to put aside our wants as selfish or not important as we grow up? I mean, who decides? What's wrong with wanting what I want? Sure, sometimes it might be inconvenient or I might need to ask for help to get it, but that's never stopped Pip or Pookie. Most of the time it doesn't stop Dee Dee and Little Dudely. But it stops me. Who taught me what's important or not, what's worthy of desire or not, what I should want or not? Shouldn't I be the one to decide what I want?

I've decided it's time to change my life. Enough of this putting my own wants aside, devaluing them because... because why? Because someone told me that what I wanted wasn't important? What do they know? Or that they didn't want it so I shouldn't? Or that it didn't have value? To whom? I ask. To whom?

If what I want comes from a true place deep inside of me, if it makes me feel buoyant just thinking about it, if I get all warm and fuzzy imagining it, then I will ask for it. And I will work to make it happen. No need to defend or justify.

Step 1: Identify my true wants.
Step 2: Identify what's stopping me from asking for them.
Step 3: Re-arrange my thinking.
Step 4: Ask for what I want directly and clearly - from myself, from others if I need help, from the universe.
Step 5: Be willing to take inspired action and repeat steps 1-5 until I get what I want (or change my mind).
Step 6: Along the way, relax into the wonderful flow of my life.

That's all I have to do... so simple... just not so easy. But it will be.
With practice.

Good Enough 2

I was reading Tribes by Seth Godin today. It's an odd little book. But good, thought-provoking material. About half-way through I realized that it read like a series of blog entries - interesting, somewhat related thoughts explored just enough to leave some pondering for the reader. Turns out that's just what it is.

He has an entry on "Settling", as in accepting what is (even when it obviously has problems) and not working to change it. And another on "The Obligation", as in we do not have the opportunity to not settle, but the obligation to not settle.

"I don't think we have any choice. I think we have an obligation to change the rules, to raise the bar, to play a different game, and to play it better than anyone has any right to believe is possible."

And this all got me to thinking about my thoughts on Good Enough. I believe what Seth Godin believes. Dream big. Bigger. Screw the rules. If you refuse to throw out all limitations and imagine whatever it is just as you would create it in a ideal way, how could you ever bring that marvelous possibility to life?

Maybe it won't turn out just as you imagined, because as you start down the road to creating it you'll learn things that change your dream, perhaps even making it better. But without the dream and without the gumption, you'll never even take a step down the road where you'll learn whatever it is, and you'll never begin to create something better. You simply resign yourself to the circumstances of your life.

So what do I mean by Good Enough? I certainly don't mean settling for mediocrity and the status quo. I mean, throw out the idea of perfection, get real and get conscious about what matters to you, and then live up to that standard.

The idea of perfection stops too many people from trying. "I'm not good enough." And what exactly do you mean by that? What does Good Enough look like? Really, I want an answer. Define it. Now look at that definition and tell me, how many of the requirements are within your control? Go back. Define Good Enough again. This time every requirement has to be within your control. You can't control how other people feel, but you can control how you feel and the actions you take and the attitude with which you take them.

Now you can take a step down the road towards bringing your marvelous possibility to life knowing that being Good Enough to do so is all within your power. Get to it.

Merry Christmas

Phew! Our holiday celebrations are over. We moved everything up a day because Flyboy (my husband) gets to fly people around tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Actually, I kind of like sliding things around. It reminds to focus on the important things: my family.

We had three celebrations. As much as big gatherings can be fun, I much prefer smaller ones. I find more satisfaction and enjoyment when I can focus more completely on the people around me. And I'm not so good at that when there is a lot going on.

So yesterday we were joined by Flyboy's parents for pizza and presents. It was such a pleasure to have the time to talk with them and to watch our kids fall in love with their gifts. We (try to) limit the number of gifts our kids receive so that what they do get is thoroughly appreciated and really is what they want. After one gift each two of our three kids were content. After two each they were happy to play all day.

This morning we awoke to full stockings and presents for just the five of us. There were more gifts than could be deeply appreciated in the moment. Little Dudely had asked for kitchen timers: mechanical, sand and digital. After just those he probably woud have entertained himself for a week. But we had more. And they just kept getting better. It makes me wonder if we should spread out the gifts, maybe one every few days for a few weeks...

By the end of the morning present fest our kids had declared this "The Best Chritsmas Ever" and there was still more to come. We headed to my parents' house for our holiday dinner with them and my sister: potato-carrot soup, pierogies and eggnog, followed by cookies. Yum! and then more gifts were exchanged. And The Best Christmas Ever got even better.

As I write this at the end of the day, I'm tired! But grateful for all the love. And satisfied that we all showed the restraint necessary not to swamp our kids with stuff (throwing out all the catalogs and circulars as they came into the house helped there!), but still managed "The Absolutely Best Christams Ever."

Good Enough

Bleh! Smart Balance does not make for good cookies. Tomorrow we go back to a more traditional version of the recipe so we can enjoy some Christmas cookies...

I think that this should be a joyous and relaxed season, and not be so filled with pressure and expectations. What's a "good enough" holiday season? I don't think everything has to be perfect (whatever that is). I don't think our holiday card has to go out on time (whenever that is).

A friend pointed out that I live in a house that's lived in (that would be a euphemism for "sometimes messy and in need of a cleaning"), so why not live a life that lived in too? Embrace the sometimes messy parts, and get to the cleaning when things settle down again.

I think a good enough holiday season would have everyone enjoying the special activities of the season: thinking loving thoughts as they select meaningful presents, laughing and connecting as they create holiday foods, reminiscing fondly as they create holiday cards and address them to dear friends. So what if the presents are "equal"? So what if the food burns or tastes funny? So what if the card is late? I enjoyed the holidays. Good enough.

Winter Solstice

A day for turning inward. I spent some time outside as the snow fell. I needed the stillness. And soon I found myself resting in the space made under the angle of a leaning tree. The support I found in the quiet of the woods and in the strength of the tree allowed a deep release of emotion. Catharsis. And then a greater sense of ease.

Later I watched The Wizard of Oz with Dee Dee. I know I saw it, or parts of it, several times as a child, but I remembered very little of it. Dee Dee is the kind of kid who needs to understand everything, the big picture, as she's watching in order to enjoy a movie. (We agreed that next time she reads the book before she sees the movie.) But I understand her, so I gave away the ending so she could understand the beginning when we were first introduced to all the characters. And then we stopped dozens of times so I could explain what was going on. It feels good to do that because I know what it's like to want all that information and not get it. Maybe that's why I didn't remember much of it.

Everything you need, everything you want, it's all within you. Look inward. A wonderful way to start this solar year. The days are getting longer...

Cookies

You know when you walk up to a beautiful plate of holiday cookies and they're so festively decorated and you think "Ooh... I'll have just one..." and before you know it you've eaten, maybe seventeen? And a little while later you're completely buzzed on all that sugar, feeling bubbly and giddy? Then a bit later you're grouchy and miserable, and you just want to take a nap?

Which brings up this headline "Sugar Can Be Addictive". Duh. Sure, this is one of the first (animal) studies to demonstrate the brain changes, neuro-chemical responses, and behaviors associated with sugar intake, but was there any question really? Anyone who has tried to cut back on sugar knows about addiction. Funny thing is, now that we eat less sugar around here (or try to) I find that I'm more sensitive to it. Of course I pretend that I have control over my addiction. I'll have just a little something to perk me up when I'm feeling out of sorts. I intend to sort out what's bothering me while I'm feeling better... Um, maybe I need to stop pretending.

And then there's this whole issue of high fructose corn syrup. As my kids know, I'm something of a freak with respect to it. It's in EVERYTHING. It's no surprise to find it in sodas and jelly, but in peanut butter? What needs to be in peanut butter besides peanuts and salt? We now buy Trader Joe's peanut butter: only peanuts and salt. HFCS is in many yogurts, breads, ketchups, nearly everything. Unless you very conscientiously check the labels of everything you buy and choose products that don't have it. Which we do now.

Why the concern about HFCS? The studies I've read (the ones not put out by the food industry whose studies dominate Google search results of course) suggest that HFCS is digested, absorbed and metabolized quite differently than raw sugars. It's more like mainlining sugar. Our bodies can't regulate it's absorption very well. And if sugar is addictive... imagine what HFCS is like. It gets into your blood faster, in a less controled way and is metabolized differently. No wonder it's in everything. Think about it.

So earlier this week the health news headlines were abuzz with new research results on the best diets for controlling blood sugar for diabetics (and everyone else as far as I'm concerned). The new ideal is the low glycemic index diet. The glycemic index is a measure of how fast the sugars in a food are absorbed into the blood stream. Lower GI means slower absoprtion, which results in a more stable blood sugar level, and in turn less stress on the pancreas and kidneys. Slower absorption means more stable bloods sugar... I wonder how this affects the addictive qualities of sugar...

In light of all this news about raw vs refined sugar, good fats vs bad fats, less pocessed foods vs more processed foods, I modified our recipe for spritz (cookie-press) cookies today. Whole wheat flour, Earth Balance spread (that would be a blend of the better fats), agave nectar (low GI), with the regular egg and vanilla. Then I performed my one-dog (me), one-time study on the effects of such improvements cookie dough. I ate plenty of it as we made the cookies. Then I waited for the highly predictable sugar-crash and associated grumpiness and need to take a nap.

Now, whether this was an artifact of a poorly designed study (which it was) and researcher bias (definitely there) and subject expectations (also present), I can report a complete lack of a sugar high and subsequent crash. Whether real or not, I feel better feeding these cookies to my family. And they don't have nearly the face-stuffing goodness of standard ones.

Of course, as you can judge by the picture today, Little Dudely and Dee Dee negated a substantial fraction of my efforts by lavishly decorating the final product with all sorts of highly refined sugars...

SNOW!

Today we had our first real snowstorm of the season. That icestorm from last week counts in a different category... Today was snow. Light, fluffy snow. 6-8" when I last saw it. It might still be snowing now. I don't know. It's dark out. And even better, there's another storm on the way the day after tomorrow.

I love snow. I love the way the world looks when the snow is falling, drifting gracefully or being blown sideways or falling in big clumps. I love watching it pile up on things - covering the blades of grass or weighing down leaves and branches. Making cool shapes in the towers it forms on whatever surface it settles onto. I love the way the world looks when it's done snowing, when the sun peeks out, when the snow falls off the trees.

I love the way the world doesn't sound when the snow is falling. Noises from far away are absorbed by the little flakes long before they reach my ears. The world closes in. All I hear are the sounds of flakes landing on my jacket or nearby leaves. I love the way the world sounds when it's covered in snow. I love the stillness and calm snow brings.

I love the way snow tastes. And feels. What isn't to love about snow? Sure, it makes a mess of roads, and it needs to be plowed or shoveled. But the grace is exquisite. I'm willing to shovel to experience the delights of snow. And it's even better when I leave enough time to do those snow-chores so that I'm not rushed or feel burdened by the task. It can be play - reveling in the beauty of the day.

Let it snow.

Photos

We have too many photos. Digital technology makes everyone snap-happy. Not that many years ago you thoughts about it before taking a picture - developing film cost money. Now taking pictures just takes megabytes. And we have many many megabytes of pictures.

It's not a bad thing in itself. Taking lots of pictures means we have many more good ones. And many more bad ones. And many more from our children's perspectives. But we rarely delete the bad ones. We rarely cull the collection, or label them so we can sort them later.

Right now we have over 16,000 digital photos stretching back to 2000 when we got our first digital camera. And they're all easily accessed by scrolling through them on my computer. Wow. Imagine 16,000 slide or prints...

Scanning through them I am immensely grateful to have this abundance of pictures. What an amzing treasure. I take it back. We don't have too many pictures. We have just the right number for today.

'Tis the Season

.... for hibernating. We're down to 9 hours between sunrise and sunset. Without electricity my day would start at dawn, around 6:30a. By 4p I'd be fairly well convinced by the waning light that it was dinner time. And by 8p, four hours after dinner, I'd be ready for sleep. Eleven hours of sleep.

In fact, that's pretty much what happened in November when we went to New Hampshire, to my parents' camp that doesn't have electricity. We woke as the skies began to brighten around 6a, we ate lunch early, we ate dinner before 5p, we were in bed nearly asleep by 8:30p. It's the rhythm that came naturally to our bodies, responding to natural influences. It felt good and right. Restorative.

But here I sit, a month deeper into darkness, at 9p, lights on, feeling a bit tired, knowing I'll be up for at least another hour. At this time of year I don't reduce the demands on my time, my body, my mind, as nature intends. No. I add demands. I plan the holiday celebrations, dream up presents for the people in my life, buy those presents, create a holiday card and send it, make special foods, and then I throw in the C2 Holiday Challenge. As if the holidays aren't enough of a challenge on their own.

I understand the desire to mark the Winter Solstice. That moment when the sunlight stops dwindling, when our planet's orbit starts tipping those of us in the northern hemisphere back towards that glorious sun. It is a moment of faith. Faith that the sun will return, that the days will lengthen, that life will spring forth from the earth again. We look to evergreens as emblems of that promise. We look to fires for warmth and light. We look to our friends and families, we gather them close, to sustain us. But we no longer listen to the messages of nature that urge us to slow down, to turn inward, to conserve.

Today I listened, if only briefly. I rested when I could have pushed on. Tomorrow I will try to listen. It's time draw in loved ones and rest in their presence. Perhaps I will find a bit of time for that... among all those other demands I place on myself in this season of hibernation.

Curvature

Pookie has been in a brace for scoliosis for six years now. We met with her orthopedic surgeon (and his resident) today. For six years we've gone in every six months to check in and see how things are going. Every year Pookie has x-rays taken to monitor the curves in her spine. Every year we find out that they're progressing... slowly.

Pookie's spine began twisting and curving in the year she was 4. Just before she turned 5 she had lumbar and thoracic curves that each measured around 25 degrees. Her orthopedic surgeon slapped a full-torso brace on her and gave us a rather motivating speech. When curves progress beyond 40-50 degrees they need to be stabilized with rods after growth ends. If they reach 80-90 degrees they're life-threatening, as the heart and lung get crushed in the bend. If they get that large before growth ends you put rods in, and then need to repeat the surgery to accommodate any growth. If the curves get big while a child is very young, you need to put rods in on the front and back of the spine to stabilize it. And then repeat as necessary as they grow. I didn't even want to think about how you get to the front of Pookie's spine. It was a very effective lecture.

But in the end there's only so much bracing can do. Her thoracic curve is so high that it is hard to brace. From the time Pookie was first velcroed into a brace, she had at least ten maybe as many as fifteen years to hope the brace could hold back whatever torsion is built into her spine. Her orthopedic surgeon has said that we are just hoping to slow it down and buy time. So far we've bought six years, and are out of the window for front and back rods. But in those six years her curves have progressed into the high 30s and low 40s.

We have a friend, who has the same rare syndrome that Pookie has, who also has scoliosis, who is scheduled for surgery at the beginning of January. His curve is over 80 degrees now, and it is only his "dysmorphic barrel chest" that is saving him. He's been out of his brace for a year as they've waited for surgery. When it's over, his spine will be significantly straighter, and he won't have to worry about bracing. Of course, sections of his spine will be fused and supported by metal rods...

The amazing thing is how well she has tolerated her brace. I would hate to be cinched up snug, squeezed for eighteen or more hours a day. She rarely protests, and has just accepted it as part of her life. It just is. I know I would struggle to be so Zen. But then that's just who she is. She doesn't worry about yesterday or tomorrow. Frustrations pass quickly. She lives, laregly contentedly, right NOW. She asks for what she wants, for what would make her happy, then makes due with whatever is available. She'll repeat herself all day, but she rarely gets worked up about it. (Of course that power outage the other day was one of the things that pushed her into sadness. Why couldn't Mommy make everything work again?)

Today was a trying day for her. First we met with her gastroenterologist. Then she had her x-rays taken - all four of them, and she does NOT like x-rays. Then we met with her orthopedic surgeon to review the x-rays. Then we went to the brace shop because her two-month old brace was made too small and needs to be rebuilt. And finally she needed to have blood drawn for her GI doctor. We saved that for last as we figured she would be most annoyed by that. So after hours of waiting spread throughout the day, we were finally on our way home.

Except that she had had enough. She plopped herself down on the floor in one of the hallways and refused to get up. No way. She was DONE. I stood her up. She sat down. I explained that we were heading to the car to go home, that we would be at the elevator soon (her favorite part). Nope. I understood her point. Enough is enough. So I scooped her up and carried her to the elevator. All 75 pounds of her. She's too heavy to carry these days... Dad piggy-backed her to the car, where she sat happily as we drove home.

Day 18

Ten days to go in this year's Concept 2 Holiday Challenge. I've got 55,505m left of the 200,000m in the challenge. As of right now 286 people have completed the challenge (but most have kept rowing anyway), another 2149 people are over 100,000m, and who knows how many are still working towards that goal. One guy has rowed over 950,000m. Now that's crazy! I row that much in a year, never mind 18 days. A total of nearly 692 million meters have been rowed by everybody participating.

Speaking of crazy... a close friend of mine (who mentioned the challenge to me this November after I had decided NOT to do it, and got me thinking about it again) ran into some familiar issues with determination crossing the line into insanity. Nah, that's never happened to me...

She emailed me to say "I hurt my knee. I can't bend it, I can hardly bear weight on it, it's swollen. And I have a cold. What should I do? Keep rowing?" She had rowed 9,500m, about 45 minutes, on it the night before. I laughed in true understanding and kinship. Then I ordered her to find some ice and to stop rowing. I almost ended my C2HC in solidarity. But for some reason I couldn't quite bring myself to do that. I did spend a lot of time thinking about why I participate as I rowed the next few days...

I keep learning and adjusting my workouts trying to meet my personal goal of completing the C2HC in a sane and balanced way. After discovering that open ended rows led to me pushing longer and farther than I intended, I switched to timed rows. The downfall of that strategy was that I then pushed to see how many meters I could squeeze into the predetermined time. And ended up exhausted. Which is not consistent with sanity or balance. So I tried set distance pieces, and found that I would push to see how fast I could finish them...

I have settled on having my heart-rate be my primary guide, and then each row I choose one method to measure my workout. Some days I'm not sure if I want to row 6,000 or 9,000 meters, so an open-ended row is best. Other days I have only 35 minutes, so a timed row is perfect. But no matter what I pick, I earn bonus points (in my head) for keeping my heart-rate below various targets. This seems to be working wonderfully.

What I'm really doing is learning to listen to my body. When I don't feel so good, I do a short easier row, or *gasp* take a day off. Maybe, just maybe, I'll get good at this balance thing.

Getting Away

Our NH get-away was canceled due to bad weather. We were scheduled to spend three days playing in nature. My parents own a camp in a small development nestled within the boundaries of the White Mountain National Forest. It's a 1960s-vintage mobile home with an addition that has sat where it is for who knows how long. My parents bought it about twelve years ago. It's off-the-grid = no electricity. But we do have propane which feeds lights, a refrigerator, a stove, heaters for when the wood stove is over-kill, even a water heater. We also have a generator to run the well-pump. All-in-all it's a pretty cozy place.

When they first bought it, back before we had kids, my husband and I went up nearly every other weekend. We installed the water tank and plumbing, such that it is. We helped clean up what was left by the previous owner. But mostly we played. We went for hikes and mountain bike rides, we went frolicking and tubing in the river, we snowshoed and cross-country skied. We lay around relaxing and had many, many campfires.

I love being out among the trees. I need to get out there. When life is overwhelming I go for a walk in the woods. I take a deep breath and let it all go. I haven't been spending as much time in nature as I would like, as much as I feel I need, in the past ten years.

I was looking forward to getting up there this weekend. But Mother Nature had other plans. An ice-storm walloped northern New England. It didn't seem prudent to drive into the aftermath of such a storm, when line crews are struggling to restore power and emergency crews are trying to clear roads. Besides, we lost power here at home too, and a fierce cold front was predicted. We decided to stay here and tend the homefront.

So we've been re-creating NH for our kids. An 18-hour power-outage was not too bad, but it was also enough. Our home isn't set up for being without electricity the way the camp is. Pookie doesn't understand when all her favorite activities are unavailable. She spent yesterday desperately begging me to turn things on. I spent the day trying to explain why I couldn't make things all better for her.

Today we took them out to lunch, and then did some shopping, just like we might have in NH. That wasn't our greatest idea. I don't like malls and shopping that much mid-day, mid-week, off-season. A large mall on a Saturday two weeks before Christmas is pretty much a nightmare for me. But Dee Dee wanted to look for earrings. We humored her. Then we ran away from all that consumption, and went out for icecream for dessert.

So what's missing from our get-away? Well, we haven't spent nearly as much time outdoors as we would have up there. Though I did head out this morning to take some pictures, and I plan to again tomorrow - for as long as I can stand the cold (it's predicted to be around 10F at dawn). And I haven't escaped from all the responsibilities of home the way I do up there. I can't figure out how to get around that one... So I wait until we get my husband's schedule for January to pencil-in our next retreat, then I'll cross my fingers for good weather and good health.

Validation

From a very young age we learn to look to others for validation of our goodness and worth. We seek approval from our parents and other caregivers, from our peers, and from our teachers and other authority figures. We learn to believe we are good and worthy when someone else tells us so. We feel good when we receive praise, but then that feeling wears off and we seek desperately more.

Our way out of this cycle is to turn inward to the truth we each carry. The inner guidance, the inner knowing we each have that can inform us about our own goodness and worth. We have learned to mistrust that wisdom and to trust only the judgments of others. We have turned a great power over to external control. And in doing so we lose our touch with our own innate goodness.

When we reclaim our power and turn to our internal knowing, praise becomes an affirmation of our own truth. Praise is no longer a drug we need. Our truth allows us to understand when there is room for improvement without any accompanying defensiveness or shame. Our truth allows us to acknowledge and own our gifts without doubt and without arrogance.

External validation takes us on a wild ride of emotion with highs and lows far out of our control. Internal validation brings us peace and equanimity, a rock solid knowing of our worth. It transforms our interactions with others. We are no longer desperately grasping at praise to validate our being, but instead find ourselves relaxing into the expansiveness of truth.

It is our willingness to look deeply into ourselves, to listen intently to our truest selves that allows us to develop a relationship of trust with our own knowing. It takes practice to recognize that voice that knows from among all the others. Listen. Just listen.

Lunch

My husband is a wonderful man and loving father. He also reminds me that I do pretty durn well as a mom. When he travels, which is frequent as he is a pilot, I am left to care for and coordinate the lives of our three kids. I work hard, maybe too hard, to get it right. Over the past eleven years I have often lost sight of my needs in my determination to do this mothering thing right. Whatever that means.

Today I was working. I'm a life coach and work from my home office. I helped get the day started, helped prioritize what needed to get done, helped make a plan. Then I was busy. I popped out for bathroom breaks and lunch, but I wasn't involved in the details of family life. I was working. That was the deal. It was my husband's day to care for the kids and keep the house running smoothly.

To his credit and my appreciation, he finished the bread I started, kept the laundry going, and worked on getting our new computer working. Transferring files and what-all can be a pain. He is very focused and enjoys that sort of task.

He also forgot to feed the kids.

When I finished at 3:30p I discovered two cranky kids fighting, and the third begging for cheese. Then I learned that Little Dudely had half a grapefruit (which I had prepared) at 8a and then chips and salsa for "breakfast" around 10a. No lunch. Dee Dee prepared a bowl of cereal with fruit for herself in the late morning. No lunch. Pookie did get her regular breakfast and the kiwi & cheese part of lunch. But that's it. Even my husband was hungry. He had made a bowl of soup for himself, but needed more.

Now I am the first to point out that Dee Dee and Little Dudely, never mind my husband!, are capable of fending for themselves. I have been encouraging them to be more self-sufficient in the kitchen, and Dee Dee even prepared most of dinner last night. However, they often need to be reminded to eat. Extreme crankiness is often the first sign of plunging blood-sugar levels. Our kids need regular inputs of, oh say, a piece of fruit mid-morning, or a well-rounded lunch followed by a light snack to run smoothly and happily.

So at 3:30p it was clear that they wouldn't make it to dinner. The popcorn maker on the counter, and the erupting battles and screaming made that clear. (Which isn't to say epic battles and screaming never happen when they are well fed...) Granola bars and fruit for Dee Dee and Little Dudely (and dad). A bowl of mac and cheese for Pookie. Phew! Situation stabilized.

So what did I learn? Well, nothing too horrible happens when you get so absorbed in what you're doing that you forget to feed the family. It's not pretty, but maybe next time the kids won't be so reliant on the adults around here to think of everything. Maybe I do a little too much to make everything just right. Maybe I can relax that standard for myself and have a little more fun...

Something from Nothing

With the help of a friend I figured out how nothing became something. Meditation is about creating a space for yourself, your truest self, to just exist. It's a chance to find stillness. Any sort of interaction with another creates a shared space. A "hello" to the cashier at the market creates a connection, catching someone's eye on the subway creates a connection. Connection exists in the shared space between you and another.

Dee Dee still needs me to help her create a space for herself in meditation. So when I sit with her quietly in the dark, practicing meditation together, I am connected to her within our shared space. She asks questions, she looks to me for guidance. So the space I create is not a no-thing space for me. It is a some-thing space for us.

Understanding this I can see why I have been frazzled over the past week. When I believed I was getting my quiet nothing time to be still, I was wrong. I still need that time, and now that I know, I can create it - because I'm not about to give up my time with Dee Dee.

Nothing

I don't think I've done enough nothing recently. I mean that sitting or lying around doing no-thing. It feels like I've hardly stopped to take a deep breath anytime in the last week or more. This despite the fact that I've been meditating each night with Dee Dee. Somehow, that became some-thing.

It's so easy to get caught up in doing. Especially when I add a few extra activities to my life - oh say, holiday preparations (that's about five extra things right there) and this ridiculous (but beloved) C2 Holiday Challenge. Perhaps these extra things will get me to step back and refocus, figure out just what it is that I want to do and drop the rest.

In stillness, in the nothing, I find my truth and my peace. Tonight I do nothing... or maybe I do exactly what I want.

Art & Connection

Any artists' open studio tour is not to be missed. I love listening to each artist talk about their art and the creative process. The woman working the pottery wheel at one studio described starting with a lump of clay and an idea, but then allowing the clay to become what it was meant to be. It's a collaborative process of creation between potter and clay. I am inspired to add pottery to my list of things I want to experience.

A painter talked with us about the different materials she used: watercolors, pastels, oils, and a plastic paper called Yupo. That looks like a fun medium to experiment with. We went to her studio because a small print displayed at the pottery studio had called to me. I showed the print to my mom saying "Doesn't this remind you of the Swift River?" That's the river I camped near as a child, the river I frolicked in for endless hours, the river I still love to visit, the river I want my kids to know. On the back there was a sticker that said "Hudson River" but that didn't matter. In my mind and heart it was the Swift River. The potters told me where to find the artist and more of her work.

When I met the artist I told her about the print I had chosen. She said "No, that's not from the Hudson, this one over here is the Hudson. That one is of a river near North Conway, NH." "Which one?" I queried anxiously. "Hmmm... it's been so long. It's the one beside the Kancamangus." That's MY river! It is a painting of my beloved river.

Our next stop was a multi-artist gallery. We spoke with several artists and admired their work. One photographer had a beautiful collection, a vast array of subjects. Some were of breathtakingly gorgeous vistas in awe-inspiring places. Some were heart-touching wildlife photos. And then there were the ones that resonated in me. The things you might walk by any day, the thing nearby the breath-taking vista that most people would miss. Rocks, lichen, roots, leaves. I spoke with him about each of these catagories of his work. He knew just what I was talking about. These unheralded treasures formed a common language between us.

As I leafed through his small prints arranged by geography: Antarctica, Rockies, Maine, New Hampshire/Vermont, I came across a picture of a waterfall. It was in tight, so there wasn't much but the water rushing through and over the smooth rocks as it began it's plunge. This time I turned to Dee Dee "Doesn't this look like Sabbaday Falls?" And you know what? It was. We hiked into Sabbaday Falls just a month ago. Its waters feed the Swift River.

And then there was the young woman without rules. Embellished books, cast concrete leaves, small sewn ornaments, fastastical paintings. I want her to lead an art exploration for my kids. Show 'em the tools of art, show 'em the possibilities, then let 'em create whatever is inside. No rules.

Dee Dee fell in love with one of her paintings. The artist explained it was a collage of sorts, a magazine photo superimposed on a photo of Missouri corn fields taken from a moving car. She had combined these images and blended them into a painting of her own. I don't fully understand why Dee Dee is so drawn to it, but then, it's not for me to know. I do know that I needed to honor this connection, and so for Christmas, Dee Dee will receive the painting of a girl, not so different from herself standing before all the possibility in the world. No rules.

Cooking

My kids are learning to cook. We got home late this afternoon. Then as I helped Pookie into her jumper and got everything arranged to her liking, I discovered that one of the doors on our rec room entertainment center was off its hinge. Given Pookie's need for order, this was totally unacceptable. And it would soon lead to more permanent damage if I didn't get it fixed.

But it was dinner time. Decisions needed to be made, food prepared, hungry children fed, then bathed, then snuggled. Pookie was demanding music on, song 4, lights off, entertainment center doors shut... but I couldn't shut the door.

The transition home from our afternoon out was not going smoothly. I lost it. Momentarily I could not imagine how this situation could turn out well: Pookie would lean on me as I struggled with the hinge, demanding who knows what. Dee Dee and Little Dudely would bicker in another room. Dinner would never get made. I didn't even know what to make. They'd never get to bed, and I'd never get my quiet time. Doom, I tell you. Doom!

Suddenly I was struck by insight: how could things possibly go well if I didn't expect them to? So I took a deep breath and imagined everything working itself out easily. I stood up, went to the kitchen and explained to Dee Dee and Little Dudely that they were making dinner tonight. Rice pilaf and frozen veggies. (Not gourmet, but it'll do in a pinch.) Sure, they'd need a little help, but after the shock and doubt wore off they were empowered.

I was off to my mission in the rec room, free from the responsibility of cooking. Sort of. Amazingly, when I was calm, I could find an extra hand (OK it was my shin) to hold the door in place while I reassembled the hinge pieces. And I discovered how the manufacturer had thoughtfully placed a hole in the TV stand so I could tighten the critical hinge screw.

When I returned to the kitchen I found Dee Dee and Little Dudely working as a team... Ha! They were fighting over who got to do what. So I found more tasks for them, like switching the laundry into the dryer, and turning down the TV that Pookie had up way too loud.

I think they enjoyed dinner a bit more than usual knowing that they had cooked it (mostly) by themselves. And I enjoyed the evening a bit more than usual knowing that I had saved myself from certain doom merely by expecting better.

Moonlight

Truth
may be found in the darkness,
in the reflected light of a star.

Pip, Pop and Zoe

In January we had no pets. But we did have Dee Dee petitioning for a cat. At the end of February we adopted a 2-3 year old stray from my sister's friend. It seemed that Zoe had been left behind by the previous owners of the house. She was a beautiful, soft and chirpy cat who spoke to us as we walked by.

Then in May we decided to adopt a pair of black kittens, brothers, from a local shelter. They were named Chip and Domino, but we didn't like those names. For three days we called them Spot and Not, as one has a little white patch under his chin and the other didn't. Finally we settled on Pip and Pop in honor of the nearly indistinguishable, playful brother otters on Bear in the Big Blue House. Besides, Domino/Spot/Pip has a "pip."

By the end of June Pip had grown substantially, but Pop had not. In July Pop started losing coordination. Slowly, progressively his condition deteriorated. How do you explain that a kitten is going to die? Kittens don't die.

Dee Dee and I talked nearly every day about our options. She needed to be involved in our decision, but I wanted to be very careful that the responsibility didn't fall on her. We discussed euthanasia and what it meant. "Mom, are people ever euthanized?" She had been there when one of her aunt's cats had been euthanized. She had insisted on watching her great-grandfather's casket being lowered into the grave when she was four. She had also been there when her brother was born. She's just that kind of kid. An old soul in many ways.

We finally settled on hospice care here at home. I cried most days. Especially at bedtime. Pop was a darling kitten and it was heartbreaking to witness. One morning in August, Pop died while being lovingly held by my husband and stroked by Dee Dee. He was barely six months old.

Three weeks later, early in September, we returned home from a long weekend visiting family to discover that Zoe's "scratched eye" wasn't scratched. Soon she was nearly blind and losing coordination. And we were providing hospice care again. By then we had practice. Still the discussions and the tears flowed. She died one beautiful fall day in October. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting, we needed to get her buried. My husband was away so I headed out to our new pet cemetery and began digging. And crying.

So we have one cat now. He sometimes seems insane, literally bouncing off the walls, and he's desperate to be an outdoor cat. Yeah, we've got a fisher, foxes and coyotes all looking for a tasty treat. So unlike my kids, I'm stifling his true nature. He's the only one we've got left and he's staying in. Fortunately Christmas is near, so we've brought the outdoors in for Pip. He's got himself a piece of the big outdoors right in our living room. We just can't decorate it with anything we care about...

Pushing

The sun will not rise
any sooner
just because
you’re pushing
on the Earth.

Challenges

I had it all planned out. I wasn't going to mention the C2 Holiday Challenge again until maybe Day 14. You know, mark the half way point with some insights and witty remarks.

But I'm tired today. I sat down and rowed for an hour yesterday: 12,634m. Nowhere near a personal best, but definitely a major accomplishment for me. My butt hurt about 50 minutes into it. Still, I planned two days of "easy" rows before my next long one. Maybe only 8,000m each, 5,000m if I was short on time. Keep building my cushion, keep buying days off at the end. Days off that I'll never take.

I woke up at 5:30a this morning. That's about an hour before I intended to. I know lots of people get up that early or earlier regularly. But not me. I like my eight hours of sleep and I don't go to bed at 9:30p. After waking enough to realize I wasn't going back to sleep, my first thought was "Ug. I do NOT want to row today."

So I lay there enjoying the snuggliness of my flannel sheets and down quilt. I lay there letting my thoughts wander, appreciating all that is so wonderful about my life - even at 5:30 in the morning. I lay there waiting for the heat to come on at 6:30a. We set our thermostats back at night: 56F upstairs, 58F downstairs, so it's chilly in the morning before the heat comes on.

Let me explain. We used to do 58F both upstairs and downstairs, but the thermostat is in our bedroom. And we got a down quilt last winter. We figured a mid-weight one would be perfect. We could use it early fall to late spring. But nooooo. Down is an amazing insulator. We roasted. Now I wear my summer jammies all winter long under that marvelous quilt, and change into my fleece ones when I get up. My nose gets cold, but I'm cozy warm underneath. It's like hibernating, and that's how I sleep best.

Given our insulation we needed our bedroom to be colder at night so we wouldn't swelter. We realized that our bedroom tends to be colder than the rest of the house in winter (warmer, unfortunately, in summer) as it has outside walls on three sides. We figure the kids' rooms stay a couple of degrees warmer than ours, and as each of us survived 58F as kids, ours can too.

So I lay there this morning waiting for the heat to come on. I watched dawn break and the sky brighten. I started making deals with myself about doing only a minimum 7,143m row, or maybe even only 5,000m. My body felt tired. And that's when I realized that the biggest challenge I could offer myself today was the challenge to take a day off, gracefully. And you know how I love a challenge...

Dee Dee

Dee Dee is growing up. It's hard for me to remember that she's only nine. It's always been hard for me to remember how old she is. She's always spoken clearly and with a vocabulary far beyond her years. It doesn't help that she's tall too.

She likes being mistaken for someone two or three years older than she is. But it also makes it hard for her when she's just acting her age. Should I expect the behavior of a three or five year old? Is she nine or twelve? And what does it mean to be any age anyway? What should I expect from someone flip-flopping between ages? I've learned to just meet her where she and who she is at that moment. It all goes so much better when I let go of any assumptions or expectations. She's Dee Dee. A wonderfully creative, growing, changing, challenging, strong soul coming to know who she is more and more.

We've had a bedtime ritual snuggle forever. I crawl up into her loft bed with her and lie down. We talk about whatever is on her mind. This is the time of day she wants to talk and talk, asking questions endlessly. Well, she always wants to talk and talk, but bedtime is different. It's just her and me and anything goes. I have trouble stopping her because I love the connection so much and she seems to crave the undivided attention. But recently is hasn't been working so well.

The time after I get all three kids snuggled is MY time. As her snuggles stretch out, my time to wind down and enjoy some silence gets shorter. I began to resent her snuggle. She delays it as late as possible, never wants it to end, then comes downstairs repeatedly until I go to bed. I don't get it. I don't know what she's looking for, but I run out of patience and civility when MY time gets interrupted with such frequency and regularity.

She's started spending a lot of time alone in her room reading, playing with her dolls, avoiding the rest of us. I try not to worry. She's growing up and trying to find who she is. Space is a good thing for all that. But so is connection. And then she's so keen on spending time with me at night, when I'm ready to be alone for a bit... Why not find time during the day to connect?

Last week I wanted to take a nature walk. Usually I like to go alone and ground myself. I invited her along with me figuring I could still get grounded and maybe help fill her needs too. Just the two us wandering around a nearby park for an hour. She loved it. I shared some of my thoughts, she shared hers. Then she spent the entire afternoon and evening playing nicely with Little Dudely. Works for me!

But she still wouldn't go to sleep at night. So this week after I found myself being kept up by her I proposed a change to our bedtime ritual. Now she joins me in meditation at snuggle time. We sit side-by-side in the dark of my room listening to quiet music. Instead of getting wound-up by conversation, she gets wound-down by stillness. And she feels connected, included in my grown-up world. And then she falls right to sleep.

Perhaps I have found a new balance point between her needs and mine as we navigate our way through our lives. At least for now.

Day 5

C2 HC is ON. Yup. After much internal debate I decided that I really enjoy the Concept 2 Holiday Challenge. OK, I just really enjoy a challenge. In the past I have gotten a little obsessive about it - squeezing in second workouts and rowing through illnesses just to finish. I've burnt out each of the other times I done it - I've finished them and then not rowed again for a month.

But not this time. I have chosen to participate because it's a fun challenge. I have set the intention to participate in a balanced and joyous way. I am (trying to) let go of any attachment to the outcome. I will get up and row each day so long as it feels good. If I finish, I finish. If I don't, I don't.

That said, I wear a heart rate monitor to keep from working too hard - and that only stops me some of the time. It's an upper limit for me. Without it I exhaust myself. I love anaerobic threshold workouts. That's where you pick a pace right at the top edge of your aerobic zone, just shy of becoming anaerobic, just barely sustainable, and hold it there for the duration. Unfortunately, it's a bit draining. And I just don't have the kind of life that allows me to recover from those workouts. No lying around with my feet up for me.

I'm also 47,453m into the 200,000m challenge. To be on pace I would have rowed only 35,715m in these first five days. I've already earned myself a day off! Of course I am notoriously bad at taking days off. What if I get sick later? What if I don't? Then I can finish early! Or set a new personal record for meters rowed during a challenge... And this is where that intention to participate in a balanced (and sane) way comes in.

Here's what it comes down to: it takes me 7-8 minutes to get good and warmed up, flushed, heart rate into my steady-state zone, sweating (pretty picture, I know). The next 20 minutes are OK, but a bit tedious. This is the part where I just want to be done already. Once I hit about 30 minutes I get a nice little extra endorphin rush and I settle in for the long haul. Under the influence of this very pleasant brain chemical I start plotting just how far I'll go: only 6 more minutes and I'll be at my daily minimum (7,143m), only 4 minutes after that and I'll be at 8,000m, less than 5 minutes after that and I'll be at 9,000m, and then I'm so close to 45 minutes I might as well do that, but that's only 3 minutes short of 10,000m, and if I go for another 8 minutes I get get my daily average up to 10,000m, and then it's not much longer to an hour... Endorphins are a dangerous thing for a challenge lover like me.

So this year my personal holiday challenge is to complete the C2 HC while maintaining perspective and balance, and not burning out. I'm learning to manage my endorphins...

'Nuff Said

OK. I lied. I've got more to say. Yes, Little Dudely climbs door frames, leaps off the couch (no not the ledge behind the couch) and takes apart (and reassembles) doorknobs. He also has a great affinity for electronics.

He wakes up before I do, tiptoes downstairs, turns on my computer and sends emails with photo attachments. Mostly to family members, although friends have been known to receive emails too. He reads well, but doesn't spell quite so well:

"Hi Poppa. Do you lick my picker? I love you."

Um, that would be "Do you like my picture?" Of course, the picture in question wasn't even one he took... And he does take pictures. Actually, I love his pictures. They are from a wonderfully different perspective. Looking up, or just across the table, or of himself. The world from the eyes of a young child. For the record, he's now 5.

His lack of spelling prowess doesn't slow him down, last February he sent this one:

"hi poppa I sooa orins bllt lat niet"

Translation: "Hi Poppa. I saw Orion's Belt last night."

He also likes to send text messages on cell phones. I learned that last spring when I got a message on mine saying I had nearly used up my allotment for the month. I don't send text messages. We figured out he had been up early sending messages back and forth between my cell phone and my husband's. We had a little talk about that one.

Then there's the time he set the password on my new cellphone and locked it. I discovered this as I rushed off somewhere with Dee Dee. Uh... let's just say that I wasn't calm and collected. Funny thing was, in the middle of my tirade I realized what a great story this would be once I calmed down and unlocked my phone.

Just the week before I had made a Beatles mix CD for Pookie. That was all I had in the car, and that was just what I needed. "Let It Be" and "All You Need is Love" went a long way in my desperate attempt to calm down.

Of course when I reached a land-line, I learned that he had promptly forgotten the password. All 8 digits of it. 100,000,000 combinations. That's when I learned about PUK codes and SIM cards and met a nice guy at the IM help desk. And then set my own combination (that I won't forget) to keep him off my phone.

The Wind

The wind blows.
The trees know
As they sway.
The leaves know
As they rustle.
The water knows
As it waves.
The clouds know
As they drift.

The wind blows.
I feel it
Push on me.
I hear it
Rush past my ears
And rustle the leaves.
I see it
Sway the trees
And mound the waves.
And drift the clouds.

But what if
There were
No trees to sway
No leaves to rustle
No water to wave
No clouds to drift?
What if
I was not there
To feel
To see
To hear
The wind?

The wind still blows.

IM-ing

Call me crazy, but sometimes the written word is the most effective way to communicate. My husband is a pilot. Pilots have weird schedules and are away from home quite a bit. But when they're home, they're HOME. 24/7. This leaves me transitioning between full-time stay-at-home starting-a-new-career mom of three and full-time two parent household. It's all or nothing around here.

Pilots have a very high divorce rate. I have a visceral understanding of why that happens now. The transitions are the hardest part. Twice a week more or less. Major transitions. For those of us at home, we find a new rhythm for life once Mr. Pilot leaves for work. It's not simple, but it's comfortable for us. We love to have Dad home too. That transition is harder for him. A pilot's life is lived in a highly controlled environment. Shoot, they have scripts they read back and forth to each other on the flight deck. There's not much unpredictability there. And that's just the way I want it.

But here at home? Uncontrolled environment. Who knows what will happen next? We've got three spirited kids. I don't envy my husband for having to make those transitions. I just have to reconcile my comfort with the chaos with his discomfort. He has to try to shift his expectations entirely.

So he travels a lot. You'd think we'd talk on the phone all the time. Nope. We instant message. When he gets to the latest hotel he plugs in his computer and connects to the internet. While he settles in from his day, changes out of his uniform and eats whatever meal is overdue we can keep on chatting. We both can spill our stories, overlapping them even, without being interrupted or feeling pushed aside for the other's stories. I can wander out of the room to take care of dinner or bath time or whatever chaos needs a bit of guidance without having to hang up or disturb his train of thought. Phone calls are for short, intensive discussions in which time is of the essence. Talk is much faster than writing.

And then there are those trips when he doesn't even get to his hotel until long after I am asleep. Then email is the wonder tool I use. I compose a Daily News Update from Home & Such. He tells me that he feels far more connected to home when he knows the nitty-gritty of our day. I enjoy telling him stories. And then I can use the Such portion for whatever I happen to be thinking about. Works for us.

In fact writing works so well that sometimes I resort to IM or email or printed letters even when he's home. The nice thing about writing is that I can say all I have to say without being interrupted even if emotions are running high - as you might imagine could happen due to the controlled vs uncontrolled environment business. Having the chance to explain myself, perhaps even understanding my thoughts fully in the process, lessens my stress. Having the chance to hear the other side and reflect upon it in quiet, perhaps even understanding the source of his stress, lessens that as well. Take out tone of voice and body language (which are often misinterpreted when emotions run high anyway), take out the possibility of not hearing the whole story because your mind is racing with objections and we find understanding. It's all good.

What would we do without technology?

Allowing

I'm new to Abraham-Hicks and the Law of Attraction. It's not that I haven't heard of it. How could I not have heard of it? But I haven't read much of anything about it. Until yesterday.

I was thinking about designing my website and decided to browse other people's websites for ideas. I found myself absorbed by the content of one and then started following suggested links, which included Abraham-Hicks. So I spent some time reading and listening because that felt like the right thing to do. I stumbled on the most wonderful quote:

"When people use the word "teacher", the vibration that matches the word often feels more like asserter than it does like allower. But, the ideal teacher is one who is an open vortex through which desire can be satisfied, where an asserter is one who has information that they are wanting to impart.
*snip*
Oh, it is so delicious! When you have an environment where children feel free, where they get to choose, and you are brave enough to ride it out... In other words, at first they'll choose all of the things that you have been convinced are wrong... But when you are brave enough to let it go far enough that they actually do identify their own personal desire, and then you stand as the loving implementer of their desire -- you would never go back to any other form."

We have chosen to home educate our children, and I say home educate instead of home school, because what we do does not resemble school in anyway. In fact, we don't really home educate them either as we (try to) allow our kids to educate themselves. Which really means, we follow their lead and provide the support and opportunities they need to express most fully who they are. And I find it so delicious to stumble upon, or should I say attract?, this quote that so perfectly understands our philosophy.

I allow. In fact I allow far more than feels comfortable to me sometimes. But when I can't think of a good reason not to other than "because I said so" or "because that's not how people do things" I just have to allow it. Or at least I try. Sometimes I find myself asserting. That never ends well.

Why? The ultimate question. I try to answer it as fully and truthfully as I can. Dee Dee learned about high and low pressure systems in the atmosphere when she was 3 because she looked out the window and asked "The wind is blowing. Why?" It's a marvelous question for getting to the truth of things. Kids are happy to do whatever you ask of them as long as it makes sense to them. But they learn quickly, or maybe they know intuitively, that much of what we adults ask them to do doesn't make sense.

The magic that flows when I step outside my preconceived notions about what should and shouldn't happen, what my kids should and shouldn't do is amazing. The magic is living life in the flow of all that is and all that could be. My kids are natural magicians and they are allowing me to remember my own magic.

Pookie

Pookie woke up around 6a this morning. It wasn't so much the hour that bothered me, I was waking up about then anyway, but her volume. Some days she wakes up quietly and plays in her room while she waits for us to spring her. We have a gate on her door because there's just too much good stuff to do elsewhere in the house at 2 AM. Once we forgot to latch her gate and discovered that she had turned on nearly every light in the house and then flipped on the TV to watch a favorite video sometime in the middle of the night. The laughing woke us up. Well, that and the volume of the TV...

So she waits for us to open her gate and help her downstairs in the morning. Today she woke up loud. Not the "mmmmmm" happy hum, but the "eeeeeeeee" excited exclamation. That sound sometimes resonates in me like nails on a blackboard. Especially first thing in the morning, when I'd prefer to be waking gently to the rising sun and my own thoughts. So my first thoughts today were not good ones.

I had a call with one of my fellow coaches from my class later in the morning. She astutely pointed out that "The pain is in the resisting." This is Pookie. That's her excited noise. What's not to love? My wise friend and coach then suggested "Appreciation is the feeling to switch your vibe to love." Truly, Pookie brings me such tremendous joy and offers such patient teachings that I would be crazy not to appreciate all her wonder.

She has patiently repeated herself varying her signs "Bird squirrel turkey fox eat" for 10 minutes to get me to realize that she wants me to fill the bird feeder outside the sliding doors so the animals will come. She has taught me to count Pookie-style on her fingers: with your right hand grasp your left index finger, that's 1. Middle, ring, pinkie are 2, 3 and 4. Thumb is 5. Then grab right pinkie with left hand for 6 and track straight up to thumb for 7 through 10. Start over to continue 11-20. Unless she just grabs a finger and I'm supposed to know which number that is. Unless she signs a number and shakes her head no. 4-no is 14, obviously. Unless she decides to use actual ASL numbers (which is infrequent and only used for a few numbers). But she always waits and repeats and teaches me, and she's so proud of me when I finally get it.

Recently she has taken to finger-spelling words when we don't understand her sign. Hello? Mom? Let me spell it out for you... I guess she is approaching adolescence...

After snuggling Little Dudely tonight I went to snuggle Pookie. Her lights were out and she was lying quietly in bed. But she resisted me pulling up her covers. She took my hand, in the dark, and put it on her foot. I felt the little piece of dead skin by the corner of her toenail (that is trying to in-grow, and we're trying to stop it) that was bothering her. I flipped on the light and asked if she wanted me to get the nail clippers. She said yes in a way that only she can, it's kind of a whole body nod. I don't know why she doesn't just use her head to nod yes, but it certainly is distinctive.

When I started to move to get the nail clippers, she grabbed my hand again and placed it on her chin. Moisturizer? I asked. Yes, again. Then she picked at her lip. Lip balm? Yes. So I gathered the supplied and took care of her bedtime requests. And tried to pull her covers up. Socks, she signed. Once her feet were cozy she rolled over and curled up as I draped her fleece baby blanket over her, then pulled up the rest of her covers. What a love. What a lucky mom I am.

Holiday Challenge

Concept 2 is the company that makes my rowing machine. This is THE rowing machine that you'll find at most training centers from high school to national team. I have the Model B which is the same one I was introduced to when I first started rowing in my junior year in high school in 1986. They now produce Models D and E. I have to say that we have maintained it well and have made some upgrades to various components over the years since we bought ours in 1991.

But I have digressed. Concept 2 is holding their 9th annual Holiday Challenge between Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Eve. The idea is to row 200,000m over the 28 days, which works out to 7143m each day. Which is something like 35 minutes per day for me, with no days off. You want days off? Keep rowing.

For some, that challenge is not enough. Those people complete the challenge in one day. That's maybe 13-15 hours of rowing (for them, much longer for me) in one day. It's the distance of nearly 5 marathons. What are they thinking?!?

I have participated, and completed the challenge three times (maybe four?), including the years I was pregnant with Little Dudely and the year he was an infant. I think I was pushing into the realm of insanity that year. All five of us were living in a tiny apartment during several major life transitions - new baby, new job for my husband and building a house. The only space for my rowing machine was outside on the tiny deck. The only time I had to row was at night. I vividly remember many rows out there in the dark, bundled against the below freezing temperature and cutting winds, my boom box blaring whatever music I needed to get through the workout (um, do I dare admit that at that time it was a fair amount of Meatloaf?). And that's how I clung to whatever sanity I still had. The next year I skipped it.

Well, that's not exactly true. I had learned that trying to do so much of one thing with such determination and focus left me burnt out. So I created my own Holiday Challenge that year. To be honest, my husband created that challenge. He didn't want me getting so wrapped up in my rowing goal and ignore the rest of life. He gave me points for various workouts and also for maintaining balance in my life. It wasn't nearly as inspiring, but then I didn't burn out either. Or become so uptight. Or gain weight over the holidays (which is, of course, one of the significant benefits of undertaking such a challenge).

So now, two days before the start of this year's C2 Holiday Challenge I am debating what to do. Do I give into the draw of the C2 HC and get myself in really great shape at the possible expense of life balance (and I will admit that it is tenuous already this year for other reasons) or do I keep on a more middle way path and create my own HC? Are they really mutually exclusive? Hmm... I've got some interesting beliefs hiding in there, eh?

(The picture today is the logo from the 2008 C2 Holiday Challenge www.concept2.com)