Epiphany #7

I am the only thing standing in my way.

A Day of Mixed Blessings

• We got our shovel back. The woman we had loaned it to told her friend about it - and the friend apparently "forgot" to return it.
• I found out I have no way to get dental care because the one place that takes our state insurance is not taking any new patients. Great, says the lady with half a tooth.
• I only went to school one day this week due to the snow and ice, which was lovely. But this means I have to work into June, which is a total bummer.
• We've been hanging up things that have been up in our attic for 3 years now; rearranging rooms and settling in more. This is ironic since we'll likely be moving in about 7 months.
• I still miss my grandparents every day. I can't tell if it's because I'm living in their house, or if it's because I'm finally letting go of some of the things I had held onto, or if it's because we're getting close to leaving and won't be able to keep it... or maybe all of the above.
• Ari suggested having pancakes for dinner tonight... and she helped me make them. She wanted to wear our matching aprons Nana made. We had a great time, and it helped erase a day of feeling like a bad mother who was struggling to be present.
• I love my husband so much. I wish we had more time together, but I feel insanely lucky to be married to my best friend... someone who can continually surprise me.

Caught

If I could stop the world
in certain moments,
today I would stop
on building a snowman...
laughing in mid-day sun and
wrestling sticks from the dog
as you chased fruitlessly but
happy and elated in your freedom.

I would freeze out imperfections
and lapses of calm or patience.
We could leap over or pause
prior to lost tempers or cyclical
frustrations or even just exhausted
and age-influenced inertia stuck
in bones and joints like
thick cotton stuffing.

Some days I try so hard
and still fall short; reaching
for some imagined ideal
of nurturing, patient perfection.
Neither Cleaver nor Clytemnestra,
just frail, human mommy who
struggles some days to
be present and calm in the chaos.

Push and Shove(l)

With the huge dumping of snow these last two days (huge for this area), nearly everyone on our street has had to dig their cars out from under a thick, white blanket of icy, wet, heavy mess. People keep getting stuck in the street (the city only plowed one lane... and that was only today), and oddly enough there are several folks around us to were caught without a good snow shovel... so we loaned it out a few times.

Unfortunately, the last time we loaned it out, we asked our neighbor to just leave it on the porch. We went up to bed that night and remembered it was still sitting out there, right next to the front door. Andy and I debated as to whether to go down and bring it in... and we ultimately decided to keep snuggled in our warm bed and hope for the best.

Well, this morning it was gone. And I'm of two minds on this one. On the one hand, part of my thought process last night up in bed was that if someone did take it, it was likely because he or she needed it. I mean... you wouldn't just grab a shovel off a porch simply because it's there, right? It would be because you needed one and didn't have one. It's a small thing, and if it was helpful to someone else out there... so be it.

Then again, there is another part of me that feels upset because who in the world walks up onto a front porch and just takes something off of it? We had our flag stolen 2 years ago, and now the shovel. And sometimes I wonder if we should hide the bistro table or the potting materials on the side as well... because apparently nothing is safe.

Luckily, it was not our only one. It was our best one, but we do have another. And at some point, we will be mobile enough to go out and get another, and we'll just keep going... hoping nothing else gets nabbed off our property... and remembering it's all just material possession in the end anyway.

Whatever the Weather

It has been sleeting for roughly 24 hours now. The ground is slick with thick, icy crystals piled high on one another, and there is a constant, light, tappety tapping noise against the windows as the dots of sleet continue to fall.

I always think of mail carriers and hospital staff on days like today. Gas station attendants, grocery store workers, emergency crews, salters, plow drivers... all those folks who have to pull themselves out of their warm, safe homes to traverse the dangerous conditions outside in order to help the rest of us who are able to enjoy snow days with school or work canceled.

May everyone in the path of these storms stay safe and warm. And may those who must be outside travel safely to and from their destinations.

Transmutation in G

One of the things that has been most difficult to reconcile while in school has been the way in which it has affected my ability to stay on top of the many little things that are actually quite important in life and which I had always made a priority: thank you cards, birthday gifts, phone calls to friends, keeping up with emails—communication in general.

I sometimes think it's silly to blame my removal from the world entirely on school. But in my calmer moments, I can at least concede it's been something quite apart from a "regular" sort of life. Graduate school is a bit like running a marathon while birthing a baby and trying to cater a dinner for 350. A great push toward the finish line amidst what often feel like wild and insurmountable obstacles.

It will be interesting to see how life changes beyond graduation. And a practice in mindfulness to note the habits I choose to take with me versus the ones I wish to reinstate from an earlier and less chaotically stressful time. Sometimes I feel so far away from who I was, it's difficult to imagine with any sort of clarity who I will eventually become.

So many mountain tops...

I heard a great interview on The State We're In this morning. The theme was "the right to refuse," and they did 3 stories focusing on various interpretations of that theme. The one I was able to hear all of (and was most interested in) was about Norrie May-Welby, who refuses to be classified as a specific gender.

Norrie's story is not entirely unusual... she was initially born as a boy and always felt more female; however, after the sex change operation, Norrie decided not to take hormones and therefore never developed breasts or fully eliminated certain traditionally male features, such as chest hair.

Now, Norrie considers herself about 60% female and 40% male, and prefers to be called she but does not truly identify with being completely female or male... and thus prefers to embrace the right to refuse classification.

It was an excellent interview because Norrie is incredibly articulate, self-reflective, and humorous. And so it was nice to hear from someone who struggles with and eschews gender-role stereotyping and is able to communicate the thought and feeling process behind it all so well.

I believe we have much more to learn and understand with regard to the differences and subtleties of sex, gender, orientation, and all the things connected to such elements of our identities. Gender-role expectations are powerful things, as is the socialization process based on cultural perceptions of who we are as male and female, how we choose to conduct ourselves, and who we love or are attracted to.

Perhaps one day we will embrace all the possibilities that exist within the human experience in terms of gender and sexuality (and, ultimately, identity)... if not openly, then at least without fear and hostility. Stories like this at least keep the dialogue going, and help to remind us to continually challenge our preconceptions, assumptions, and values so that we may ultimately treat everyone with the same level of compassion, dignity, and gentleness.

Baby Steps

My husband created a little meditation space for us in a large closet located in our now shared office (it used to be the guest room).

It's the perfect size for both our zafus and zabutons, along with a small altar. Very cool. Oddly enough, Ari and the dog both love being in there as well, so it's become a popular hangout spot and is rapidly accumulating little toddler toys.

Unfortunately, we had not yet used it to actually meditate. Our goal was to use Thursday nights to sit together after I've put Ari to bed. We were all fired up about it and even moved two rooms around accomodating the plan, but we've fallen short on actually moving forward.

Ah well. Sometimes I think we take baby steps toward elightenment or spiritual evolution. A slow but steady pace that brings us closer to our hoped-for endgoal. In the meantime, our space sits ready and lovely... waiting for the end of our metaphorically tiny-footed journey.

Ash

I used to have dreams wherein my teeth would break apart in my mouth. Crumble like chalk and settle into dusty piles that stuck on my cheeks and threatened to choke me. It would start in the back, near my molars, and work it's way toward the front—a domino effect reminiscent of special effects scenes of buildings turned to ash in the aftermath of a bomb or piles of soft soot left behind by July 4th snakes on the sidewalk.

I'm not sure what this means. But having half a tooth fall of has reminded me of them. They used to happen frequently—recurrent and frightening. And then they stopped somewhere along the way... forgotten and replaced by other strange evening flights.

Perhaps it is about communication... or a fear of being silenced. I am a communicator, probably more than anything else, and the thought of losing that strength and comfort is quite scary to me.

What you fear reveals what you value (and vice versa).

Sometimes...

Sometimes you ask
and the universe will answer.

Sometimes you push
and the world walks away.

Sometimes you wait
and the way becomes clearer.

Breathe.
Listen.
Trust.

17 places I'd rather be than sitting in a lecture hall for 3 hours

1. at home, sitting on the couch with Ari on my lap; able to put her to bed and then hang out with my amazing husband, Andy, who I love and miss like the dickens
2. sleeping
3. doing crossword puzzles at the kitchen table
4. taking a hot bath in our antique clawfoot tub
5. getting my blog done (I sort of did that, I guess, though I still had to type it in once I got home)
6. doing crunches on the living room floor
7. the gym (oh gym... how I miss you)
8. teaching workshops with the lovely Ms. Claff
9. workshopping a new piece for the dance company I have not yet started, but which is increasingly clear in my mind
10. on vacation (Galena, Rome, Praiano, Springfield, Australia, New Zealand, Greece... just about anywhere!)
11. getting homework done
12. sitting in a living room with all my Neo-Futurist ladies, drinking tea and catching up
13. hangin' with all our Dad's Garage peeps in Atlanta
14. writing
15. sitting in front of a heater smothered in deliciously toasty fleece blankets
16. at home studying for my comps and NCE
17. DONE WITH SCHOOL

One Step Closer

I don't know how many times my eyes welled up with tears today. A lot. I truly love the American election process and the way in which the democracy of this country was designed and founded. I think it's astounding and inspirational and beautiful and challenging and full of faith and promise.

Obama's trek to and successful acquisition of the presidency has been astounding for so many reasons... the not least of which has been to finally have an African-American president who can claim himself as multiracial and who represents, to many of us, the very foundational philosophy and tenant upon which this country was created. We welcome all; we honor all; we provide opportunity for all.

Now, we have not always lived up to that dream, that ideal, that creed. Not by a long shot. And mistakes and errs along the path to such grand promise have occurred time and again throughout our history with very dire and lasting consequences for our unified identity and combined destiny as Americans.

But it is the possibility that keeps us striving—it is the "better angel" of our national and collective nature. We aspire to live the promises articulated in our Declaration of Independence and to treat all citizens – all fellow humans – as equals.

Today we took one step closer to living that dream. And though many have said it in a multititude of ways... there is a reason we keep singing the same tune, making the same points, and telling the same stories.

It means something that the little kids I see every day at my internship site will be growing up with a president whose skin is the same color as theirs—whose story might reflect all or a part of their own personal and family histories. It is significant that my 2 year old daughter will remember her first president as an African-American man... that the first family is black, not white, that the president was raised by a single parent and had a father born in another country.

And although it will be probably a while longer before we see a woman in office, or a openly homosexual man or woman, or someone of a non-traditional faith, etc... today's inauguration ushered in a time when we are one step closer to openly and joyfully embracing the diversity and complexity of experience and context which makes this country so unique and exceptional.

As so many have said before me (including Obama): Our strength lies in our diversity. Our uniqueness and ability to shine as a people connects to our fundamental philosophies of government and humanity. And our ability to traverse change and accept the open expression of our difference and universality is integral to our future as a people who love and honor our one, indivisible nation.

Looking for the Lesson, Finding the Opportunity

Somewhere around 6:30am today I realized half my back left molar was missing. I have no idea when or how it happened, nor am I entirely sure what in the world made half my tooth disappear. It made for an odd morning and stressful day, particularly since the university is on vacation and the only people who take my coverage are located... at the university.

So... here's hoping I can get it fixed tomorrow, that I am not making it worse by continuing to eat or drink periodically, and that it does not get any more painful in the meantime.

I have been wondering all day what opportunity was provided in my little dental mishap. I think it's provided several avenues for reflection and mindfulness. First, I take my teeth for granted. I have not taken care of them since I became pregnant (which is a big no-no), and I should know better. Especially since my grandmother had tons of problems with hers and those sorts of things tend to be genetic.

Second, this is a tiny thing to be worried about, discomforted by, or fixated upon. There are so many things going on right now that merit greater focus and compassion on the continuum of suffering than my minor tooth problems. It's sometimes helpful to have something like this happen simply to put all the other things I am not having to live through put into perspective.

Even with my insurance woes and absolute ire (I could truly launch into a diatribe at any moment), it is nothing compared to what so many are dealing with at this very moment. Tiny. Tiny.

I guess third and finally, although in most moments I feel predominantly saddened, my current backaches, tooth aches, head aches, and eye strain all remind me I am human. Fragilely, frailly human. And there is beauty and purpose even in that... though some days it is hard to embrace it.

The Pot and the Kettle (a bit of venting doggerel)

Petty, petty.
Don't be so petty.
Hasn't it been
enough already?

What magic words
do you wait to hear?
What unmet picture
is held so dear

That you push away
and just shut down,
Meet outreached hands
with scoffs and frowns?

I love you seems
to go unheard.
I miss you somehow
vague and blurred.

I truly think
it's strange, in fact,
to be held to standards
you seem to lack.

And yet, the truth,
so plain to see:
you're woven
into everything.

A part of all,
essential and wanted...
never forgotten
or taken for granted.

One day I hope
for peace between us
no matter what happens
or where fate leads us.

Yes, thank you!

My 4th grade teacher was Mrs. Marsh. An older woman, with large grey-blonde curled hair and a passion for big rings, funky jewelry, and cool clothes. She was the first teacher I really looked up to in my elementary school experience. The first teacher I saw as a person—someone who had her own life outside the classroom—who was full of interesting stories, experiences, foibles, etc. I had the understanding I would never fully know her, and yet I yearned to, which intrigued me greatly.

There is a story she told us once that has always stuck in my head. I can't remember if it was part of a regular lesson or just one of those anecdotal tangents she often went on, but she was telling us of a time she was at a friend's house for tea. Her friend had made chocolate chip cookies for the occasion, and Mrs. Marsh said they were very, very yummy.

Once she had finished her first cookie, her friend offered her the plate and asked if she would like another. Mrs. Marsh said her initial instinct was to say "No, thank you" because we are taught not to be greedy and not to take too many of something and (as women) not to eat too much. It's polite to refuse, essentially.

And Mrs. Marsh, in her wisdom said, "Isn't that ridiculous? If I want another cookie, shouldn't I take another cookie? They were really good, and I wanted another one. So I said, 'Yes, I will have another. Thank you,' and I took the cookie. It was delicious!"

Mrs. Marsh was the first person who introduced me to the concept of carpe diem. She was the first vibrant adult I ever met in school, and I adored her attitude toward enjoying all the best things life had to offer—without shame or regret or fear or timidity—just reach in there and have a good time (provided you aren't hurting anyone, including yourself). A sort of mix of responsibility and gusto I still admire when I see it in other people, and which I strive to embrace for myself.

Caught Between Two Worlds

Every semester begins with a collective struggle for our family. We all strive to find some sort of equilibrium and to somehow deal with my extended absences for the majority of the week.

Ari seems to have the most difficulty adjusting, which makes sense because she is the only one who does not understand the end that theoretically justifies the various means we're committing to in order to get there. All she knows is mommy is suddenly gone every single day, sometimes for 9 to 10 hours of the 12 she is awake. Not such a great ratio.

The intense irony in all of it is that the whole reason I went back to school was so I could have more time with my family. I no longer wanted to be gone nights and weekends. I no longer wanted to put in 10-14 hour workdays. And I sometimes worry we have timed this all wrong because this seems to be the time Ari needs me most. Maybe I should have waited until she was older and in school full-time--then it might feel like we were both "working" and away from home during approximately the same stretches.

But you can not always know where you will end up when you set out upon a course of action. And certainly there are many, many, many families out there where both parents work and/or mom has to return to work right away in order to make sure they can make ends meet. So I do count my blessings... I really do. But the days when she's crying her little eyes out as I walk to the car sometimes break my heart and make me pause with immense doubt.

Dissonance in Minor to Major Adjustments

I have been thinking a lot today about maladaptive behavior... how all of us use our creativity, maleability, strength, and smarts to do all we can to adjust to fit the needs of our environments and sitautions so that we have the greatest chance for success (and in some cases, survival).

If we go along with this theory, it sort of leads to a greater propensity toward understanding and compassion when we come across someone who is doing something that seems to make absolutely no sense or is, in fact, somewhat disruptive or dangerous.

Often, this dysfunctional behavior has arisen out of choices necessitated by a negative, unhealthy, or otherwise unacceptable situation over which that person had no control. We do what we can do survive... and in some cases, that might mean we end up making some choices that - in "normal" circumstances - seem odd, destructive, or (a la Hamlet) out of joint.

There is a Thich Nhat Hahn quote in a journal my Mom sent me that I am using at school as a means of balance, centering, and self-care:

"There is no understanding without love, and there is no love without understanding."

I see it as a reminder to be gentle in my understanding of others... because there are always elements to someone's story that I will never fully know. And, if I do get glimpses of how or why he or she has ended up in a difficult spot, it nearly always increases my compassion for and understanding of why such struggle exists in the given moment.

Ultimately, there are many things we can provide for one another that are acts of love. And those things, I believe, are some of the most integral aspects of what it means to be successfully connected and actively interconnected to those around us.

Forgiveness. Empathy. Patience. Understanding. Kindness. All of those things enhance and improve the experience of the recipient (and our own experience as well).

5 Reasons to Be Happy After an Incredibly Difficult Day

1. Roasted Brussels sprouts with Italian sea salt
2. Getting out of class 1.5 hours early
3. Watching Ghost Hunters International on the couch with my hubby
4. Heat and blankets on one of the coldest nights yet
5. Bedtime in our new sleep number bed and the assurance I will not wake up with debilitating back pain

The Unforgotten

Stories of war-torn bodies
and families separated by
powers beyond them
march through my day
periodically

I have not seen their
faces, but their stories
haunt me as I sit in
classes or shop for groceries
feeling heartsick

Wishing for peace or
some end to violence
and so many dead
innocents... unlucky
only in their location

No matter how hard
it may be to listen
or view or be mindful
of so much suffering,
such vigilance

Remains important...
remains necessary
to ensure such pain
is not forgotten or hidden
from the world

Moving Forward

Obama has announced he is officially closing Guantanamo. I think a hallelujah is in order, and cannot help but feel relief that such a sad and ugly chapter in our history will finally begin to close. I pray those still held might find some form of justice and that we can find ways to deal with truly dangerous people without inhumane or illegal actions. It's still difficult to comprehend we've held so many for six years without access to the measures of justice, balance, and humane treatment upon which this country was founded.

I also heard today on WBDX (our local community radio station) that a research group has determined there is a 90% probability that the world's food supplies will be devastated and in severe shape by 2100 due to climate change. Pretty sobering for someone who already worries about economic disaster, global meltdown, and the safety of her family all the ding dang time. My hope is that, even for those who don't believe in such things, there might be a collective decision to work toward resolving any potential crises because it's better to be safe than sorry.

Meanwhile, Blagojevich has been half-impeached and we in Illinois are, I think, simply shaking our heads and waiting patiently for the proverbial axe to fall. It's embarassing to come from a state that couldn't even steer clear of scandal in the runup to one of its greatest moments since 1861. Luckily, it looks like Burris will be seated, Blago will be impeached, and perhaps by February we Illinoisans can finally turn our eyes to the exciting and unquestionably significant impact of Obama's presidency and feel a little bit of happiness and pride to be connected in some small way to such an historic moment in our nation's life.

Too Soon

Andy heard from a friend today who unexpectedly lost her father. She is our age, and so it was an early death. It is sad news, and what is even more sad is how many very close friends we have who have lost at least one parent at what would be considered a young age.

I know these losses have been truly painful and continue to leave an empty, sad space for so many. It is very difficult to imagine what it must be like... I don't think I really can. I just know there is an ache in their words sometimes... a deep and raw sadness that they touch on in certain moments. I think that is often the nature of grief—the loss becomes a part of who you are for the rest of your life.

For those struggling with such a sadness, may your heart feel lighter, your memories sustain you, and your suffering ease over time.

Lazy Bones...

Some days are so full I yearn to sit still on the couch snuggled under blankets and just relax. It's something that has become strikingly less common in my life since having Ari and returning to school; however, most nights Andy and I manage to end the day with some form of vegging out... which I have come to see as a delicious and peaceful necessity—a form of self-care and way of being kind to myself so that I slow down for at least a few moments and breathe.

I used to feel guilty about this nightly stopping, as if it was somehow too indulgent or too indolent or too wasteful. But lately I've been letting myself enjoy it more and have come to really relish those two hours of floating, calm, stasis. Sort of like a lazy river ride without the water... or tire... or sunshine. But restful nontheless.

NOW

I have been thinking about resolutions a lot lately and the way we conceptualize the new year... the promise it holds, the demarkation of time and our sense of progress, the linear attempt to divide up the infinite of experience into bite-sized, knowable, and limitable chunks.

I always hated resolutions—thought they were silly and a waste of time. But now I find myself more taken with the idea... more drawn to the idea of a concerted and mindful effort toward self-improvement and spiritual/personal evolution.

What hit me this year is how silly it is to put such emphasis on a cathartic exploration and metaphorical rebirth on one tiny little date within the year. Why not allow renewal to happen all the time? At any moment? Why not sieze any and every opportunity to refresh, start anew, or head in a different direction?

If we allowed ourselves such flexibility in our resolution-making, our capacity for growth and adaptation would surely increase. The responsibility we hold in determining who we are (how we are, what we are, etc.) would also increase – which can be scary and daunting – but so would our freedom in defining our lives and charting a course through every up and down.

There is something beautiful in the limitless expanse of possibility that exists in every moment. Terrifying and beautiful and powerful and humbling all at once. Lately I've been thinking it might make more sense to embrace the multitude of so many chances to continually change than to allow myself to get stuck in a linear, mechanistic, or stasis-like sense of time.

Choice.
Perspective.
Change.
Acceptance.
Awareness.
Willingness.

And a resolution to allow such resolve to occur and re-occur every time/moment/now it is needed.

A mindfully mindless exercise in simultaneously grand and intimate connection via technologic fandangery...

My friend Rachael sent one of those getting-to-know-you email quiz things today, which I secretly love. I have always wanted to write one, because I sometimes wish the questions would go a bit deeper or touch on things that are more the fodder of good dinner conversation and late-night talks with friends on the porch in summer.

So... as an exercise, here is my stab. Feel free to answer, pass it along, add your own ideas, etc.

1. What was the last thought you remember having before you read this question?

2. What do you consider your three greatest strengths?

3. How do you know when you're happy?

4. How do you measure and define success?

5. When was the last time you did something that surprised you?

6. Fight, flight or freeze?

7. Who or what makes you feel safe?

8. How do you know when to quit? (How about when not to?)

9. What motivates you?

10. What do you want your epitaph to say?

11. How would you describe your experience in school?

12. What's the one toy you remember most fondly from your childhood?

13. What changed between yesterday and today?

14. If you could have any food or drink you wanted at this exact moment, what would it be?

15. What's your favorite thing about yourself?

16. How do you know when you're in love?

17. What is the greatest sacrifice you've ever made? (Was it worth it?)

18. How do you de-stress?

19. Who or what is the most important thing in your life right now?

20. Name one thing you intend to do tomorrow.

Not one, but two.

I love you
—want to sing it
from the rooftops shouting
arms-wide-high-and-loud
(like a gleeful, dervish hurricane).

I love you
'til my heart feels like
sunbursts crackling/buttons bouncing
on sky-colored linoleum
(boom clickety bang tick tick).

I love you
like a ripple floating outward,
continually renewed by drops
of simple, silly moments
(happy gifts of divine beauty).

I love you
for the changes unmistaken,
all the growth you offer daily,
and the moments unrepeatable
(timeless pearls for keeping).

Winter and the Mindful Remembrance of Blessings

We did not see the sun today. I don't know why this makes me so sad. Seasonal affective disorder maybe... or just some internal wish to feel warmth and see a bit of light in the midst of the year's longest days and this area's coldest weather.

Our plants are clinging to life in walls made darker by over-zealous paneling and shortened windows. My ferns lose their limbs hourly... dropping finger-like petals and snaking arms all over the floor. Turning from green and lush to brown and barren. Poor things.

I know I should love every season. Should look for nuggets of beauty and joy in each incarnation of the planet's myriad expressions as she pirouettes around the sun. But January and Feburary are tricky for me, and my mindfulness has fallen short this last week as my body seeks to outdo my good intentions with its complaints.

Wherever you may be, I hope you are enjoying your weather... your season. I hope there have been many joys and beauties in your path. And, if not, then I hope brighter and happier days are to come for you.

May peace prevail—particularly for those for whom concerns of sun or snow must seem like such small worries in times of suffering and sorrow.

p u p p e t - y - l e s s

Two puppet shows have caught my eye lately that I wish dearly I could see. Puppetry has long been a secret love of mine (just ask my husband, who is always simultaneously amazed and stymied by how easily I laugh when he makes jokes as some character using Ari's stuffed animals). It's my childhood spent with the Muppets, I think. I just love puppets in general as an art form and sometimes regret my earlier forays as an artist did not include that medium more consistently.

Anyway... in an odd bit of synchronicity, both shows we happened to stumble upon are adaptations of Zen parables... Buddhist takes on the human condition as told through puppetry and theatre. How cool is that?!

The first we noticed was a show created by Blair Thomas & Company. Thomas is the former founder of Redmoon Theater (another Chicago fav), and also attended seminary at the Zen Buddhist Temple Andy used to attend. His new company had a show running at the MCA in November... and Andy and I were very sad we had to miss it. From the little I read (preview articles, reviews, etc.), it looked like it was really good. So if you are in Chicago or the Chicago area... I urge you to check out any future work (and then tell me how it was!!)

The second show opens in January in North Carolina and has been created by Paperhand Puppet Intervention. Unfortunately, we will miss that one too. This one explores the Buddhist concept of the Hungry Ghost, and uses shadow puppets, marionettes, masks, and more. I really wish we could have seen this one. Ah well. If you are in the Raleigh-Durham area, go check it out at Manbites Dog Theater and see what you think.

A pity-full poem about my spasmy old back.

Oh back pain.
I rue you...
reminder of my age;
torturer of my spine;
constant, nagging
incessant and all-too-
PAINFUL
silly thing to follow
me around like a
swollen little troll
who wants his reward -
a sort of Rumplestiltskineque
stinky little gnarly-faced
annoyance.

I have tried to
ignore you...
to focus instead on
the many blessings
hidden in each day like
sparkling jewels of dew
in springtime grass in
early, early morning that
smells of dawn and promise.

But you are hurty.
And stubborn.
And slipping into
more and more
muscles each day...
leaving bite marks
in your wake and
making 36 feel pretty
poopy indeed.

1/3/09

I intended tonight to blog about the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra's OrchKids project, which I heard about today on the radio.

However, I just read Israeli ground forces entered Gaza approximately one hour ago, and that will take presidence, as the events of these past weeks of conflict have been heavy on my heart and mind.

I have held off posting because I didn't feel I had anything of real merit to say. And I think I still don't. It is a struggle about which I feel completely confused, unknowledgable, and heartsick. Every time I try to get a history lesson or secure a broader perspective so as to better understand the situation, I only end up more aware of how much I strain to make sense of the bloodshed.

We have been watching the HBO John Adams miniseries this week (thank you Nikki), and it has led me to thinking about our revolutionary past, the conflicts we have endured, and the meaning we have made of our battles over time. There is great honor and bravery in defending what one believes to be right... to preserve a sense of meaning, or freedom, or religious connection so our values may align with our living.

Yet, with so many different ways to interpret the world, our purposes, the way in which we feel we are destined or called to interact with one another—it is difficult to discern how best to settle disputes that strike at the very core of our principles and call into question our most fundemental of beliefs.

I often worry the Israeli-Palestinian conflict will escalate into a more worldwide dispute... that Russia and Iran will more conspicuously join in the fray... that our nation will be pulled toward action and forced to take sides or will suffer the consequences of earlier (and ongoing) military decisions that seemed to have been based more on money than honor.

Whatever may come, I pray for a resolution for the peoples of Israel and Palestine. I pray for a spirit of compromise and compassion that may reach across history and find some form of peace so that the many lives caught in the crossfire of this ongoing battle may be spared and both nations may find a mutual strength and understanding that is coexistent and free from violence.

Three Stories of Bravery

#1
There has been increased coverage lately about the escalating crime in cities throughout Mexico, predominanly carried out by drug traffickers. Journalists have faced increased pressure to remain silent; reporters and law enforcement officers have been beheaded, shot at, threatened, and more. Yet, many persist in bringing this stories to an international audience and in continuing to work toward safety for their country. I find this sort of determination and commitment incredibly inspirational and humbling... and when I'm praying, these are some of the folks for whom I hope protection will remain and change occur.

#2
I heard an incredibly beautiful and moving story on NPR today about a guitarist who developed such a strong tremor disorder, he had to stop playing. Yet, in that bizarre and twisting fate-like gift of synchronicity the universe sometimes provides, he discovered an mbira on a bus he had been driving for a group of African performers touring the Northwest, and his musical life was reborn. I am a big fan of Ayub Ogada, and Crandell's style is similarly playful, creative, and melodically transcedental. I was really taken by his ability and willingness to immerse himself into this new world in order to reimagine his life as an artist. I think people are often phoenix-like in their resilience, and such triumphs should always be celebrated.

#3
I have posted my thoughts before on gay marriage and the confusion, anger, and frustration I feel at the current attemps by some in society to discriminate against others on the basis of their orientation, sexuality, or gender... all of which are beautifully, frighteningly, wonderfully complicated and intricate things. A friend of mine sent me a link through facebook to a mini-musical created by Marc Shaiman and Adam Shankman. It's about Proposition 8, and even though Prop 8 was passed, it gives me hope such a thing is still being circulated, and that some people might watch it and have a second thought or two about their biases or beliefs in this particular area. It's tongue-in-cheek, to be sure, but there are some great points in there about hypocrisy and the decision to treat one another with love and respect. Such a simple lesson, and yet we seem to struggle with it so much collectively.

Resolutionish

The end of each year provides an opportunity to consider the year we are leaving behind and to reflect upon what we want to do better in the year ahead. Here are a few of my thoughts as 2008 ends and 2009 is about to begin.

I want to...

• Appreciate my husband more and to tell him how much I love him and how much he means to me more often.
• Let go of the sometime-frustration or upset that arises when spending time with Ari; she's only 2 and most of the time I'm the one being unreasonable in my expectations or limited in my patience. She is one of the most amazing beings ever... she deserves to be thoroughly valued and honored for her best qualities and forgiven the ones that pose more challenge.
• Get my house clean and organized! I am so tired of living with too much, living in a half-finished environment, and living in what feels like chaos. Although we are likely to be just as busy in 2009 as we were in 2008 (if not more so), we can still make a better dent than we are currently.
• Enjoy myself more, feel happier more often, and feel more gratitude. Being at peace and noticing the blessings in life is an active choice, and one that there is no reason to delay. I want to become better at this.
• Go greener. Improve our output in terms of what we generate and improve our intake in terms of what we bring into the house.
• Go more natural with our food. Eat more whole foods, organic foods, and healthy foods! Andy got me Super Natural Cooking for Christmas, and so I am very excited to redesign our pantry, and discover new ways of conceptualizing health, nutrition, and meal-making.
• Incorporate exercise in some fashion. I know it's way obvious to go this route on such a list, but it's applicable and appropriate for my life, so there ya go. (Lately, I've been thinking tai chi... so perhaps a do-at-home DVD would be a good start.)
• Communicate more with my friends and family... let them know how important they are to me and what they bring to my life. I think I tend to be an overly private and reserved person... and I know some of my struggles with intimacy and commitment can lead to less effusive expression despite very strong feelings I may hold for those most dear to me.
• Do something in 2009 that will positively impact society at large. I'm not sure yet what this will be... but I want to continue to find ways to impact others' lives in a constructive and beneficial way—whether on a big or small scale, recognized or anonymous. My goal is to increase my social action efforts.
• Invest more in my spiritual growth. I'm not sure if this means staying with the Unitarian Universalist church or branching out elsewhere to see if there is a better home for me. I know it means continuing to pray and define my relationship to prayer, as well as to meditate in a more intentional and dedicated way so that it becomes part of my daily routine. (I also got some way cool Buddhist-themed books from my family on Andy's side... so I am very excited to delve into those!)

May your 2009 be full of love, discovery, change, and peace.