I got a chance to experience different breathing techniques over the weekend. Some by choice, some by force. The first was an IntroEducation to Pranayama. This was the by-choice inhale/exhale portion of the weekend. Sponsored and led by Ruth of Now & Zen Yoga I was introduced to the four different breathing techniques of Pranayama. The thing that stuck in my head (after it hit my heart) was the thought process behind Pranayama. I will paraphrase what was said to me – breathing is life and Pranayama is the control of this life force. Your first action after birth is a deep inhale. Your last action of life is a slow exhale. Life breathing from beginning to end. Ruth said it much more gracefully but you get the point. I learned that breath can be controlled after years of taking it for granted. Different from the box breathing (something I learned about in a different class), we were introduced to four different techniques of inhale/exhale but Ujjayi had to be my favorite – noisy and satisfying, it made me come alive.
Later, I felt like I was dying. By choice. Sunday beautiful sunny afternoon I decided to take Miss You for a run. I’m not used to running in sunshine, running in shorts. By mere mile one I was gasping for air. I had forgotten to pace myself, forgotten to find the steady breath. Funny thing about breathing – you don’t think about it until you are short of it. I remembered the imaginary eggs I should be cradling in my palms. I remembered the angels on my shoulders to keep my back straight. I remembered the pacing of footfalls…but not the pacing of breath. 1.8 miles later I ran across kisa (almost literally) and I called it quits. I wanted my inhale and exhale to quiet to talking and walking. The run was not what I wanted it to be, but the company was. I’ll do it again tomorrow.
Category: Life
Going Away Staying Here
I name my plants. Bella was given to me when I left the tri-state area in 1995. A going away present while I was running away from unending love affairs and unseen, unsolved problems. Getting away and going away seemed to be the answers for what ailed me. Didn’t matter what that ailment was. Let me pack and bag and run. At that very moment. I have always been good at packing it up, bagging the current state of affairs and running away, but Bella hated the flight. She would rather I stay and fight and fight some more. She didn’t travel well. She dropped leaves and wilted with every mile. She barely survived my indecision when I made the decision to move seven times in the subsequent three years. With each packing she protested by dropping leaves and refusing to grow. Like bribing a child I promised her sunlight and plant food, a bigger pot – her own space to grow. Anything to make the new window in the new room better.
Finally, after the eighth move we have stayed in one place long enough to find happiness. After five years in one place Bella is finally thriving. I think she has forgiven me with flowers – for the first time ever.
Party
This picture has absolutely nothing to do with the blog other than it’s a party…and the fact someone in this picture is celebrating a birthday today. Happy Birthday, my friend! XOXO
Leftovers. The very word implies discarded, used up, tired, unwanted. This morning I made french toast with Easter old challah bread and bottom-of-the-quart strawberries. Food leftover from the family visit. The french toast was better than the original purpose of any of these ingredients. Oddly enough.
There are leftovers all over my apartment. Empty plastic eggs, a sad deflated rabbit, sticky Scooby stickers and an Easter cake fast drying out. I’m at a loss as to what to do with the remains of a visit gone by. We never touched half the food I bought in preparation. I don’t know what I thought I was preparing for but it never happened. The only thing worth keeping around is the blooming Easter lily that fills my kitchen with the heady scent of the spring that refuses to arrive.
This afternoon I’ll fold up the blankets, put away the books, clean out the fridge, dismantle the crib and throw out the rabbit head. The party is over. It’s like traveling across the country and stopping along the way to look at some amusement park or scenic landscape. The party is over so it’s time to get back on the road.
Go Your Own Way
S came to visit last night. Talk talk talk talk. She would ask a question and I would say “well, that’s a whole ‘nother story!” On and on, catching up.
Somehow we got on the subject of letting go of friends. This is something that has come up for me a few times. BubbleGum mentioned “letting go of toxic relationships” in a blog about plane crashes (October 29, 2006 if you are interested), Klein went on a multi-blog rant about the friends she has Let Go (February 12, 2007 is the first one). Those of you who read my other blog know I went through a friend purge almost two years ago. (wow. has it really been that long?) Maybe if I get gutsy I’ll repost that Dear John letter.
This time we talked about not a purge, not a letting go, but rather a slipping away. There was a definite break in the friendship and how it all came about saddened me, for sure, but I guess I never really thought about the finality of it all. It didn’t occur to me it was the end of the end of the end. I guess I always assumed something would come up and we would talk again. Something in common would bring us back together instead of keep us apart. Or something. Yet, like a candle going out our friendship quietly silently darkened and the wisps of memory faded away to nothing. Now you seem ’em, now you don’t. I don’t know which disturbs me more – the fact that I didn’t notice or the realization that I didn’t care.
Even when a brief conversation renewed our communication I felt nothing. It was if I talked to a stranger and was waiting for familiarity to show up. Something that would link the word “friend” to this face. Nothing.Do we grow apart because we can? Does it happen so easily because secretly we never liked them in the first place? I don’t think that’s what happened here. What is the opposite of falling in love? That time when the more you know the more you don’t love?
We dreamed of ’57 chevies and rock and roll guitars. We chewed grape bubblegum and swigged orange soda. We wore bandannas on our ankles and hearts on our sleeves. Eye shadow was blue and sneakers pink. When the candle of friendship was snuffed out no one had a match. Go your own way.
Last Phish
Dear You,
In honor of Jon I post this pic. I didn’t write my traditional dear you last night because S and I stayed talking until latelate. It was good to catch up although I think I have a sore throat now from blah-blahing so much. The live broadcast was interesting.
I’m starting the morning slow and sluggish. I can’t remember my dreams. The cat puked. Twice. The crib is together and mom made mention on the internet.
It snowed last night. Wasn’t expecting that. Funny how I said I wanted rain or snow and I got both in one day. Be careful what you wish for.
I never told you about the meeting with the VP. When you said you were high in the mountains I took you at your word. So to speak. But, it went well in that fingers pressed together – hmmmm- nodding in agreement but not really listening way. I’m sure he means well but I’m still skeptical.
Tonight is dinner with A. I never did figure out mom’s Tivo request so the TV hasn’t come on once. Ahab has set sail so I keep on reading.
Not much else to tell you. Thought I had to say something to avoid nothing.
love, me
What the Diamond Said
I found a diamond earring I thought was past missing and had moved onto completely and utterly gone.
Later she mentioned her own mortality in a casual tone, “I think I have 10-15 years left.” Standing on the other side of young and talking old. Unnatural to consider at her age. I didn’t consider and was unnecessarily cruel. I agreed with her. Yup. 10-15 years. The conversation we must have – I was not having any of it. The conversation I dreaded was on my doorstep but I was in denial. Can’t we talk about this later? If not now, then when? Is there an easy way to discuss this?
I found a diamond earring completely gone. It glittered on the carpet, winking at me to notice.
Save me before I’m sucked up. Save me so you can see me again. Place me in a box named Cherished and don’t hand me down or hand anywhere. Place me in your ear and learn to sleep on your other side. For good. Forever. For I am the gift of your mother. I am the symbol of pride as she fussed and fidgeted with your hood seconds before marching. I am unrelenting love. Unspoken mother’s love.
10-15. She said 10-15. They say diamonds are forever. Not so when lost in the carpet underfoot. Pride from a parent is permanent. Love is everlasting. Wear it well.
Rocking
Dear You,
It’s only 9 something pm but I think my head will find the pillow soon. Things are fine. I gorged on tons of TV until my hand fell asleep from changing channels. I think I like this rule the remote thing. Your mother-in-law called – wanted to talk about the house. I suppose it needs to happen sometime, right? Your daughter is bitchy. Says I’m not fooling anyone as she sniffs around for the body. I swear I didn’t kill you but she just won’t believe me. Call soon so I can put her on the phone. I’ve been in communication with your parents. We slide notes back and forth under the door. Rent is due, crib is ready when you are. Okay, I made that first part up but I’ll write a check anyway.
By the way, the rice cooker isn’t broken. I’m just an idiot. And. The chocolate raspberry sauce works on graham crackers.
Speaking of food – how was that burrito? You better bring me back one – make that two. One for both hands. I can handle it. Tell the boys I said hi.
love, me
ps~ No hot air balloon ride. Sorry.
With Indifference
I think I’m overtired because this is how I feel. Sideways. Leaning back in my not there chair, almost on the way down. I’ve been this way all morning. Maybe it’s the daytime hue. The gray outside my window flattens and dulls every other color. Brick isn’t a shade of red but rather an ugly brown. Trees look more dead black than living green. They are neutral colors to the point of washed out blah. My senses are flat-lined and bored. 1pm looks just the same as 8am did. The path of the sun has been invisible, sulky and sullen just like me, myself & moi. I wish it would rain. I’m the type of person who wants a reason for the weather. The cold without snow, clouds without rain – they seem pointless. I need purpose. It’s hard to be motivated in the face of such indifference.
I will go home and put on the nanooks. I’ll close the blinds against the colorless sky. Maybe make some tea. Try my hand at rice. Again. Eat it right out of the bowl with parmesan and butter, salt and pepper. I won’t think about the streaks on the window I can’t seem to rub out and watch tv instead. I’ll rule the remote until I realize I’m lonely and it’s not fun anymore. Inevitably, I’ll end up talking to the cat. Together, we’ll count down the days until kisa comes home.
Lip balm Laughter
This weekend has turned out to be one of the most unexpected best. I have to give public thanks to my amazing friend Ruby. She rescued me Friday evening and helped me forget about my current hypertension life. She asked about old dramas that have eased into that We-Can-Laugh-About-It-Now phase. I relived foofaraw and FEFFFF and giggled over the stupidity of it all. Men in bear suits, Jesus on a telephone pole, jars of mayonnaise, Easter forgotten, swinging walkers and can you rearrange your whole studio to meet MY needs? Probably my favorite moment was visiting an old haunt, tripping down a memory lane of scents, trying to avoid the overpushy saleslady, and being chided for not buying lip balm. Kisa and Ruby know me that well. They’ll say I Told You So but I can’t stop thinking about what I didn’t get so I’m going back for a tube or two!
Kisa & I spent Saturday night wandering Northampton – we zipped into Different Drummer for a cookbook stand and a flexi cutting board (kisa is so smart), eating yummy pizza (it’s a tradition now!) and listening to Rebecca Correia and Kyle Spark at Bishops. They are so good together! I almost remembered the entire setlist:
- Greatest Mistake? – a new song I haven’t heard before
- Miss You – easily one of my favorites
- Better Day – I always want to call this one ‘Rain’
- Quiet Hands – I shed a small tear for “our” first dance song. I love it!
- On Your Way Down – I thought Rebecca would tell the story but she didn’t
- For the Taking – my favorite Kyle and Rebecca duo song. They sound great together!
- Walking Back – definitely one she needs to perform more
- Sarah’s Song – I love the line about the Chinese buffet
- Gin – this one always gets people. Kyle’s solo is kickazz!
- ? – I don’t remember this one. Something new? Something unfamiliar?
- No apologies – another one I need to hear more often
My glass of Merlot lasted all night. It went well with the amazing music. Rebecca talked about the Miss You cd release party she’s having in Florida (at Virgin). After six years we are all anxious for the new music we have heard so much about. She joked that if we didn’t come to Florida we would have to buy Miss You on the Internet. Very funny.
After the show we talked about a hometown cd release party. I’ll see what I can do about rallying the troops when the time comes. Time to party!
Mine All Mine
I need to claim April as my month. The once cruelest month needs to be my saving grace. I am mourning the loss of so many things. Physical, mental, spiritual, individual. All gone for better or worse.
Yet, I have so many things to look forward to in April. My family, for one. I haven’t hosted their laughter in so long, and in some cases, never. We’ve had the carpets professionally cleaned, the couches dumped and the vents sucked out. We’ve only just begun. I’ve cleaned out of necessity. I want to cook out of love.
4/4 is my chance to speak my mind. A chance to be heard. Will it stand up to the powers that be? Will it matter in the grand scheme of things? The answer will dictate Should I Stay. The answer will determine the direction of my sails.
4/27 seems so far away. Lights, camera, action seemed like a dream but with every passing day reality is creeping in. I firmly believe in helping out those I truly love and this is no exception. Kisa is the driving force behind this venture and I couldn’t be more blessed.
April also brings a reunion of sorts. I almost want to hold my breath for fear of it not happening. We have promised togetherness for years but every assurance sounds more hollow than the last. I want to see him yet I’m afraid of what won’t be.
Now and Zen Yoga has moved to the new location and I’m anxious to start over in the world of yoga. With a couch propped in the back room I haven’t had room to move the way I want to. April is the month to get back into the studio.
Knitting classes also start in April. Will I be a dolt with sharp objects? I think if I handled a chef’s knife okay I can handle a knitting needle. Make that two.
April is my month.
Couch Killer
We killed this couch last weekend. We will kill another one this weekend. What makes us so vicious with the furniture? New beginnings, maybe? Sad endings, perhaps? Indy doesn’t have anything to perch on anymore. I hope it’s not a sad beginning.
I’m contemplating not going to see sirsy tomorrow night. I don’t get the email newsletter anymore, gifts are untaken (my own word, so sue me) and sweet songs are still so sad. It’s like there is an uncaring for the awkward. It’s all unwanted. Maybe I’m not. In truth, I have missed a friend and would rather have dinner with her than try to navigate a menu of fried fat. I don’t want to be fake. I thought about making another attempt at an invite, but I know I will be ignored. Head in the sand I don’t want to deal and can’t bear to feel. Letting Go of you.
We killed couches for the sake of moving on. The new model folds out to recline and sleep. In that order. Recline and sleep. I like the new model for it’s wide arms and hidden spaces. Life goes on.
Jumping Off
I think about suicide from time to time. When I said this to my boss he looked me in the eye and solomnly said “we all do.” He didn’t try to patronize me and talk me out of something considered. He knew what I meant. I have respect for people like that.
Right now I am considering suicide of a different nature. I think by even writing this I risk decapitation of some sort. I want to jump off this career track and lay myself down in the way of the oncoming train of change.
What do you do when you find out your organization isn’t supported, barely acknowledged? What do you do when your values are scoffed at, swept under the rug? The writing is on the wall. The truth is in black and white for everyone to read and I don’t know what to do. Really don’t.
My contract is up in June. I promised kisa I would open the newspaper to the section I haven’t looked at in over six years. I promised him I would update the resume and who cares that the ink has even’t dried on the word “director”?
There is a part of me that wants to fight. Fight like hell. We have a good group. If we work together couldn’t we beat Goliath at his own game? Why shouldn’t we try? Or what about this – why can’t I play the Darwin game and try to survive on my own? Band with the enemy and take ’em all out? I’ve only been playing this game for three years. Before that I was a bit player, a volunteer. Who’s to say I can’t switch teams and go public? So many questions. No answers.
For now, all I want to do is jump. Suicide.
From Start to Finish
From start to finish it was an all Good Night. Good food. Good company. Good music. Good drinks. Good plans. Good night. Where should I start? Kisa and I arrived at the factory not knowing what to expect. How do I explain this? I was more than excited to hear my favorite heartbeat, see my favorite couple, have a night out with my one and only favorite man. We interrupted sound check inadvertently. We had time to sit for dinner. The first thing I spotted when we were seated was a giant SpeakEasyExtravaganza poster. Huge. I entertained thoughts of stealing it. Fantasized about where it would go on my wall. I would have sacrificed Natalie for Soul Session for sure.
The music. Where do I even start about the music? Sean Rowe is amazing. I absolutely adore his voice. I was mesmerized by how much sound he and his guitar could put out. They were locked in harmony. I wanted him to sing all night long…well, if Greg could join him! My only disappointment? Wondering if I missed ‘Snake in the Grass’. All night I thought about it. (We came up late.) We ended up buying a cd so I would eventually hear my favorite SR song…twice. I didn’t know I would enjoy Sean as much as I did (even though Brian said I would)…so now I’m going to watch Sean’s tour schedule to try to see him more often. At least more often than once. I wonder if he’ll ever get out my way?
Then came Soul Session. It was a SS I have never seen or heard before. Back up singers…two keyboards…sax and flute…all new faces. All new sound. I didn’t hear my favorite cover, ‘Is You Is’ and I missed Greg’s first mini solo, but I had a great time just the same. It was a real party atmosphere (“bringing classy back”) – people dressed up, food, fancy drinks, candy, free stuff (kisa and I both got shirts and shot glasses) glitter dance floor, strobe lights and not a place to sit – every table packed. I decided my favorite moments were 1) not one but three men banging drums with Sean singing, 2) Night and Day (done right) and 3) being with the coolest people ever. I wish I had a setlist. I had moments during every song that sparked me one way or another. From pants-splitting special guests to Sade there was something to remember. I could have stayed all night.
Even better? Talking about filming. Drum beats. Foot prints. Cymbal smashing. I want it all. It was a good night. From start to finish.
Dangerous to D’bone
It was Christmas again yesterday (in more ways than one, but I’ll get to that some other time). In December Kisa bought me a knife. I guess, according to someone in the culinary world, it is bad luck to buy someone a knife. To offset the “badness” you must give money as well. Are you thinking scam? Because it sounds like a scam to me…but nevertheless Kisa presented me not only with an eight inch Santoku (pictured here) he also gave me a gift certificate which I used for a knife skills class.
Class was yesterday. For me, the biggest rattler of life is thinking you know something and then finding out you’ve been wrong all along. A loser in the knowledge department. Playing the fool in the grand scheme of things. Such was my case before getting to class. I have been slicing, dicing, mincing, milling, you name it, for years. Someone had tried to show me the “right” way to dice. What if I really had been doing it all wrong, wrong, wrong all this time? A worse thought? I’d have to touch a chicken bone-in. I even joked with kisa the night before, “watch. They’re gonna make me debone a chicken.” I was practically trembling when I got to class. And I was right. And wrong.
I was right about the chicken.
Wrong about my abilities. Here’s the bottom line on holding a sharp instrument – it’s a sharp instrument. Hold it any damn way you please to get the job done…with care. There are four professional ways to hold food while “knifing” it. But, variations are acceptable. Completely acceptable. Yay. Class was easier than easy because everything the instructor taught us was something I either knew how to do really well (citrus supremes) or had attempted a few times (Asian garnishes) and everything in between. I’ve never worked in a restaurant but somehow I’ve held my own when holding a knife.
Then came the chicken. Unchartered waters for sure. I have never ever so much as touched a raw chicken that still has it’s skeletal structure. Panic set in. Surely this is where I would slice a thumb off, throw up, or worse – faint. Meat on the bone creates vegetarian thoughts in me. Seriously. Bones make it easier to see the creature it really is. Or Was. Whatever.
The instructor set to instructing. Her “first you do this, then this, then this, then this, then this…” play by play made my head spin. How would I remember to do that in that order? I think my eyes glazed over at that point. When we finally put boning knife to bony chicken I thought “surgery” and went to work. By the end I had a perfectly butterflied, boneless, not-resembling-an-animal-anymore piece of meat. The instructor came by and uttered “perfect” before moving on. Who knew anyone would say “perfect” in my presence? Perfectly unprepared for that.
I learned. I learned how to hone a knife (I mastered 20 degrees on my first try). I learned what dulls a knife (fat, picking up food). But, most importantly, I learned not to take my own knowledge for granted. I sell myself and my abilities short and this was just one more reason why I shouldn’t.
SoulSessionSeanRoweComingSoon…..
Up and Away I Wish I Was
Last year t this time I bought a googly eyed sandbox crab. This year I bought another present in red – a Radio Flyer scooter. Good for a growing boy. This time last year I was on my way north to celebrate two. Now I’m stuck south thinking about three. Missing three.
I’ve been so preoccupied with all things me, myself and moi that I have once again neglected those who matter more. I missed my aunt’s birthday 100%. First time in I don’t know how long. I didn’t send anything in time for my newphew’s birthday. My brother-in-law’s birthday was Monday. My mother-in-law’s birthday was yesterday. Today is another aunt’s birthday. There were others earlier in the month (sorry M, D & W). Missed them all. Missed them all. First time in I don’t know how long.
But, things are getting better. I’m 90% in my new office and my good, good friend was oh so right – green is good for me. Very good. I’m getting over the things that ailed my emotion. I’m getting back to good. Just wish I was getting back to Maine, too.
~*LunaSea*~ 