Patterns

Are often hard to see and harder to derail.  Kind of like Monday-Morning-Quarterbacks, we see them and know what alternative plays “should” have been made after they have happened.  Maybe see the patterned behaviours from another perspective, in the bigger picture of how they fit in our emotional/social personality – but still after the fact.  I guess the question is, how to not-manifest old patterns that no longer serve us (and maybe never did … ?).  These days I wonder how much of being able to see-in-advance that a pattern is going to kick in depends on how much awareness we have of the pre-pattern-”requiring” environment.  In what contexts do we rely on old habits, and how do we recognize the context as such before the patterned behaviour kicks in as a way to avoid it … Just a thought …

Life

Is amazing.  Even when it seems like it sucks.  There is always some silly thing, some moment of peace, some cat sleeping on your chest to remind you.  Even when the shit times last, or you think you’ve beaten them by drinking/drugging/smoking/partying just to slow down and see that none of that changes anything.  The only thing that matters is what is underneath.  Love.  Is always there.  If you are willing to be quiet.  And feel xx

the road we travel

winds, twists, turns … meanders, up hills, down hills. companions by our side. us by theirs. and it is bliss. once they are gone, grief impedes our ability to see. that the bliss remains. love every day

5 april 1993 - 13 july 2008

Tipping point

There comes a time when your relationship with your animal companions shifts. When it switches from them caring for you – welcoming you when you come home, accompanying you on walks, reading at the beach, and wandering through galleries – to you caring for them. When they can no longer run with you to the post-office, jump into the bed, or sleep in that extra hour (or two or three) because they move slowly and with care, or need to get up – to go out, drink water – and you change to accommodate them. Because they have been so good to you for so many years. And you love them. It is a natural switch, not a sacrifice. One you realize only after you have made it. For love. For friendship. For grace. Every day.

The Raw and the Cooked

In The Raw and the Cooked, Claude Levi-Strauss discusses the structures of myths as basic frameworks by which to understand cultural relations. The theory goes, that you can understand the structures of a culture by understanding the binary oppositions present in the culture’s mythology. In a simplistic reading of the title of this book – raw is associated with nature and cooked with culture.

Which brings me to today. I have been struggling with the anti-social (read, away-from-culture) nature of being raw. The difficulties going out to dinner as a “normal” (read, member of my culture) person only to get wilted lettuce, tasteless tomatoes, and the discomfort that comes from being dissatisfied while everyone else at the table is enjoying their cooked (read, part of culture, society) foods.

So I’ve been experimenting eating cooked foods. And I feel like crap every time. I get bloated, puffy, congested … so the challenge question is, how to develop some sort of continuum, a conversation within the binary system that enables you to remain raw (natural, healthy, feeling good in your body) while participating in the cooked world. What types of ccoked foods enable you to share (to break bread together – a symbol of friendship, connection, and trust) without making you sick … ?

Celebration

Yesterday was Nessa, my labrador retriever’s, 15th birthday. She is REALLY old for a lab, and I have this acute awareness that we are on borrowed time. And I am deeply grateful for every day that I have with her. Because there is not a day that we are together, that she doesn’t teach me – to be present, to be content, to be amazed, to be open to possibilities, to love unabashedly. So I threw her a Quinceanera – a full-on 15th birthday party with her dog and people and little-people friends, filled with fun, Mexican foods, a pinata, and gourmet doggie pastries (thanks Nina!). Everyone was there for her, and she knew it. Last night on our walk, she moved with a little more spring in her step. xx

Wagon

I think the best thing about the juice feast is that it is like a shared-wagon that circles through your neighborhood every day and you can get on or off at any time. Any time you get on there are others already on board. And when you get off you know you’re able to catch a ride the next time you need/want one and be in good company. Juice. No judgement.

Essence

Birds are singing outside. And since I’ve stopped the music blasting on the stereo, I can hear them. Singing.

Ahimsa

I recently felt/saw/experienced just how hard on myself I am. Twisting. My shoulders are going through some things right now, so I can’t weight-bear on my arms. But twists – I LOVE them (I also am twisty, so that helps …). Doing twists without my arms enabled me to see how hard I push. How much I use my arms as levers to wring (wrench) my spine to squeeze all my organs, so that the blood comes rushing back in. To stop the twist once I felt it in my shoulders changed everything for me. It brought it inside in a new way. Awareness. Kindness. Non-judgment. Today. xx

Step back

It really is amazing how much you can learn when you lay off yourself for a bit. Accepting a limitation, and instead of berating it, pushing to the limit of your comfort every day – to just really step back and lay off. For me, with my shoulder(s) it has taught me that it is ok to be where I am and that just because things aren’t what I expected or I’m not where I imagined I’d be, that there is still a lot to be gained and learned from where I am. I still don’t know exactly what is going on in my shoulders – structural, emotional, repetitive stress – or some combination of all three. But not practicing in the same way, allowing myself to not use them for a bit, and exploring what else can be done when not using them and staying with where I am has been a challenge but so far rewarding because – without this situation – I’d never have eased up on myself enough to explore these softer, more intimate spaces.