In this new phase of seeking to live more intentionally and fully, Andy and I have decided to increase our exercise and to start trying to find ways we can incorporate exercise and physical activity as a family.
Step 1: Buy a seat for the back of Andy's bike.
Step 2: Make sure everyone has a helmet.
Step 3: Get going!
Tonight we rode around our neighborhood and over by the Fellowship, and tomorrow we plan to institute a new morning routine wherein neither of us sleeps in, but we exercise together instead. This will be in addition to the Windsor Pilates exercises my friend Melinda showed me and that I've been trying to do each morning (despite excited interference from Ariana and Simon!).
There is nothing quite so wonderful as feeling the ache of muscles long dormant... that painful, bright, sharp sense of pushing your body to grow stronger. With it's trickling but steady return to my life, I feel more hopeful, stronger, and more alive - and a great sense of gratitude that such activity is possible.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Food
I had a thought earlier today which may be lost forever - at least in its articulate, understandable form - but it had something to do with identifying major areas within my life and the life of my family that could be improved through intentional and constructive change.
The first area I thought of was food.
Andy has been reading some of Michael Pollan's books (In Defense of Food and The Omnivore's Dilemma) lately and it has changed the way he thinks about food. In the meantime, I've become increasingly aware of how my body is reacting to certain things I've been eating... and it's felt very similar to the process of working toward quitting smoking - namely, I just don't feel well when I eat certain things.
I may crave them and desperately want to eat them, but I've noticed through a sort of intentional mindfulness that I tend to feel rather awful after I've consumed said chocolate, packaged food, junk food, fast food, restaurant food, etc.
On top of that, there is the issue of the extra weight I'd still like to take off and Andy's frustration over some steadily rising numbers on the scale as well. So here we are, in our mid-30s, feeling out of shape, overweight, and generally dissatisfied with the way we eat.
Today Krista Tippett interviewed Barbara Kingsolver on Speaking of Faith. The interview focused on Kingsolver's latest book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life. I didn't get to hear the whole thing, but it seemed to connect in a synchronistic fashion to the conversations Andy and I have had about intentional communities, homesteading, gardening, eating better, and committing to buying and consuming locally in order to eat more fresh foods and ground-to-plate meals.
Food is such a complex thing for most of us. Whether we love it or hate it, feel to thin or too fat or just right, are gourmands or diner-hounds or live in ramen noodles and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese... food is an ever-present, expensive, and vital component of our lives.
To see food as an ethical, moral, or mindful choice seems to move it from an automatic activity to an intentional one... to carefully consider everything we put into our bodies requires attention, action, and patience. And if we really are to tackle some of the larger issues that seem to hold our country back from ever-greater achievement and efficiency within the scope of food consumption and production, it seems being aware of how, what, when, why, and where we eat is a necessary and beneficial first step.
The first area I thought of was food.
Andy has been reading some of Michael Pollan's books (In Defense of Food and The Omnivore's Dilemma) lately and it has changed the way he thinks about food. In the meantime, I've become increasingly aware of how my body is reacting to certain things I've been eating... and it's felt very similar to the process of working toward quitting smoking - namely, I just don't feel well when I eat certain things.
I may crave them and desperately want to eat them, but I've noticed through a sort of intentional mindfulness that I tend to feel rather awful after I've consumed said chocolate, packaged food, junk food, fast food, restaurant food, etc.
On top of that, there is the issue of the extra weight I'd still like to take off and Andy's frustration over some steadily rising numbers on the scale as well. So here we are, in our mid-30s, feeling out of shape, overweight, and generally dissatisfied with the way we eat.
Today Krista Tippett interviewed Barbara Kingsolver on Speaking of Faith. The interview focused on Kingsolver's latest book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life. I didn't get to hear the whole thing, but it seemed to connect in a synchronistic fashion to the conversations Andy and I have had about intentional communities, homesteading, gardening, eating better, and committing to buying and consuming locally in order to eat more fresh foods and ground-to-plate meals.
Food is such a complex thing for most of us. Whether we love it or hate it, feel to thin or too fat or just right, are gourmands or diner-hounds or live in ramen noodles and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese... food is an ever-present, expensive, and vital component of our lives.
To see food as an ethical, moral, or mindful choice seems to move it from an automatic activity to an intentional one... to carefully consider everything we put into our bodies requires attention, action, and patience. And if we really are to tackle some of the larger issues that seem to hold our country back from ever-greater achievement and efficiency within the scope of food consumption and production, it seems being aware of how, what, when, why, and where we eat is a necessary and beneficial first step.
Fear and Change in DQ Country
"Yay, we made it to the Dairy Queen and back without being mugged" is a phrase that carries a mixed emotion. It's not necessarily the type of thing you want to be thinking and feeling in the place you live - particularly when you have a small child and several night classes per semester.
I'm not sure if it's the result of getting older, or becoming a mother, or feeling a bit out of sorts and disconnected after two eye surgeries... but I have noticed an increase in anxiety and concern when it comes to my safety and the safety of my family.
Mind you, it does not help to live in a town with crime stats as high as the major city we once lived in. But I do think that safety, like so much else in life, has to do - at least in part - with one's perspective and mindset.
NPR was doing some strange little story on Anthony Perkins, the actor who played Norman Bates in Psycho, and in conjunction with the story, they interviewed someone who believes that people can sometimes take on the characteristics of loved ones who have died as a way of processing grief.
My grandmother was one of the most fearful women I've known. She was convinced the world around her was dangerous and violent, and I remember her nightly ritual of checking and rechecking each door in the house to make sure it was locked before she went to bed.
I go through the same ritual myself now... and notice some of the same tendencies toward hiding away from the world around us in an effort to stay safe. So... when the college kid who lives two doors down goes peeling around the street at 2am in a car with a tampered muffler, rather than being the first one out the door to tell them to be conscious of their neighbors, I tell Andy to stop flashing the lights because who knows what they might do in retribution.
Much of this current time in my life feels strange and so far removed from the concept I once had of myself. The courageous, charismatic, sexy, playful, edgy, strong, fearless self who emerged in my 20s and early 30s has been replaced by a quiet, careful, uncomfortable, fearful and often unhappy woman who feels somewhat foreign to me.
Whether it's grief or no, whether it has to do with location or perception, I simply know this is not a good place to be. Luckily, I believe wholeheartedly in the possibility of change and the flexibility of life... and so the visualization of a better future - the first step toward evolving the outcome - has already begun.
I'm not sure if it's the result of getting older, or becoming a mother, or feeling a bit out of sorts and disconnected after two eye surgeries... but I have noticed an increase in anxiety and concern when it comes to my safety and the safety of my family.
Mind you, it does not help to live in a town with crime stats as high as the major city we once lived in. But I do think that safety, like so much else in life, has to do - at least in part - with one's perspective and mindset.
NPR was doing some strange little story on Anthony Perkins, the actor who played Norman Bates in Psycho, and in conjunction with the story, they interviewed someone who believes that people can sometimes take on the characteristics of loved ones who have died as a way of processing grief.
My grandmother was one of the most fearful women I've known. She was convinced the world around her was dangerous and violent, and I remember her nightly ritual of checking and rechecking each door in the house to make sure it was locked before she went to bed.
I go through the same ritual myself now... and notice some of the same tendencies toward hiding away from the world around us in an effort to stay safe. So... when the college kid who lives two doors down goes peeling around the street at 2am in a car with a tampered muffler, rather than being the first one out the door to tell them to be conscious of their neighbors, I tell Andy to stop flashing the lights because who knows what they might do in retribution.
Much of this current time in my life feels strange and so far removed from the concept I once had of myself. The courageous, charismatic, sexy, playful, edgy, strong, fearless self who emerged in my 20s and early 30s has been replaced by a quiet, careful, uncomfortable, fearful and often unhappy woman who feels somewhat foreign to me.
Whether it's grief or no, whether it has to do with location or perception, I simply know this is not a good place to be. Luckily, I believe wholeheartedly in the possibility of change and the flexibility of life... and so the visualization of a better future - the first step toward evolving the outcome - has already begun.
Friday, July 4, 2008
The Dark Ghost
You see old photos of women past
and there is longing in their eyes,
a downward turn of mouth and face
that looks hauntingly familiar.
Stories of institutionalization and
years spent dreaming of self-fashioned
bars loosed through the power of screaming.
You wonder what genetic gifts will be yours.
Sometimes it feels like a heavy snake,
a wreath of smoke, or a crushing hand.
Sometimes like a shadow stole thrown
over your shoulders, pressing into your frame.
And then the idea that maybe fighting
is not necessary. Maybe "solving" is not
the answer. Instead... perhaps it is
meant to sit within; a natural piece of self.
Whatever it may be... to stand in the stream,
to cross the stream, to leave the stream entirely
in order to ensure you will not drown.
You know the water is there.
One stares through you, distant woman with eyes of anger.
One does not know you, rocking and quiet in prayerful silence.
One stays with you, following close attached to your heart.
One remains, seeking the path of her own redemption.
The dark ghost can see you,
can sing and scream in lonely nights
and laugh behind your skin in mirrors.
And maybe, just maybe, to embrace it
would be better than to run.
and there is longing in their eyes,
a downward turn of mouth and face
that looks hauntingly familiar.
Stories of institutionalization and
years spent dreaming of self-fashioned
bars loosed through the power of screaming.
You wonder what genetic gifts will be yours.
Sometimes it feels like a heavy snake,
a wreath of smoke, or a crushing hand.
Sometimes like a shadow stole thrown
over your shoulders, pressing into your frame.
And then the idea that maybe fighting
is not necessary. Maybe "solving" is not
the answer. Instead... perhaps it is
meant to sit within; a natural piece of self.
Whatever it may be... to stand in the stream,
to cross the stream, to leave the stream entirely
in order to ensure you will not drown.
You know the water is there.
One stares through you, distant woman with eyes of anger.
One does not know you, rocking and quiet in prayerful silence.
One stays with you, following close attached to your heart.
One remains, seeking the path of her own redemption.
The dark ghost can see you,
can sing and scream in lonely nights
and laugh behind your skin in mirrors.
And maybe, just maybe, to embrace it
would be better than to run.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Far Away Up Close
Two stories hit me yesterday on NPR, and unfortunately I did not feel able to write about them yesterday by the time Ari was asleep and my day as mommy had ended.
I think both struck me as stories of disconnection or disassociation. The first was about the young boy, Zakria Ebrahimi, who starred in The Kite Runner. Apparently, he and his family are encountering threats, violence, ostracization, and discrimination as the film becomes more widely distributed in their homeland.
Although the young man was originally relocated to the UAE for his safety upon release of the film, he missed his family back in Afghanistan and returned home. His family is now seeking assistance from Paramount Pictures to relocate to a new area... and the company feels it is no longer possible to help the family in any additional way.
So here is a young man who is essentially an exile in his own homeland - all for the sake of art and filmmaking. Can a 12 year-old be expected to be courageous in this way? It's one thing to ask such sacrifice of an adult or to allow a professional artist to make his or her own choices and to accept societal, ethical, or legal consequences as the world responds to a particular statement or work.
But when it's a child, the issues of responsibility, consent, and comprehension and acceptance of all ramifications becomes quite muddy. What is the age at which you can willingly give your life, your consent, your freedom away if you so choose? Are there age limits on such things?
The second story was a different sort of exile - that of the hostages held captive in Columbia for for over five years. Their homecoming likely will be a mix of complex emotions and challenging situations as they seek to re-enter lives inevitably different from how they left them.
Both of these stories have led me to think about how so many events in our human experience - particularly the momentous, defining ones - contain a dichotomous element of joy and sorrow.
Many of our failures and challenges can be viewed as opportunities and beauties, while some of the greatest joys of our life can be the most difficult aspects of our living.
It has reminded me how powerful perspective can be, and how - even in the midst of events that feel overwhelming or within which we feel powerless - we always have the ability to adapt and evolve our ways of understanding those circumstances.
I think both struck me as stories of disconnection or disassociation. The first was about the young boy, Zakria Ebrahimi, who starred in The Kite Runner. Apparently, he and his family are encountering threats, violence, ostracization, and discrimination as the film becomes more widely distributed in their homeland.
Although the young man was originally relocated to the UAE for his safety upon release of the film, he missed his family back in Afghanistan and returned home. His family is now seeking assistance from Paramount Pictures to relocate to a new area... and the company feels it is no longer possible to help the family in any additional way.
So here is a young man who is essentially an exile in his own homeland - all for the sake of art and filmmaking. Can a 12 year-old be expected to be courageous in this way? It's one thing to ask such sacrifice of an adult or to allow a professional artist to make his or her own choices and to accept societal, ethical, or legal consequences as the world responds to a particular statement or work.
But when it's a child, the issues of responsibility, consent, and comprehension and acceptance of all ramifications becomes quite muddy. What is the age at which you can willingly give your life, your consent, your freedom away if you so choose? Are there age limits on such things?
The second story was a different sort of exile - that of the hostages held captive in Columbia for for over five years. Their homecoming likely will be a mix of complex emotions and challenging situations as they seek to re-enter lives inevitably different from how they left them.
Both of these stories have led me to think about how so many events in our human experience - particularly the momentous, defining ones - contain a dichotomous element of joy and sorrow.
Many of our failures and challenges can be viewed as opportunities and beauties, while some of the greatest joys of our life can be the most difficult aspects of our living.
It has reminded me how powerful perspective can be, and how - even in the midst of events that feel overwhelming or within which we feel powerless - we always have the ability to adapt and evolve our ways of understanding those circumstances.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
How to Utilize Repetition and Potty Humor for Hours of Fun
Sniff the bed as if you are a doggy... keep sniffing until you have located something, then howl and point to a spot on the bed (as if you are a hunting dog).
Point and howl until Mommy or Daddy responds by eating what you have found. They will finish chewing their food and say, "What is that?"
Pause just long enough to let the tension build, and then say "POOP!" as loud as you can.
Howl with laughter. Repeat.
Point and howl until Mommy or Daddy responds by eating what you have found. They will finish chewing their food and say, "What is that?"
Pause just long enough to let the tension build, and then say "POOP!" as loud as you can.
Howl with laughter. Repeat.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Collectors of Culture
Morning Edition did a piece on a band from Quebec in honor of the city's 400-year anniversary this week. The band is called Le Vent du Nord, and they specialize in collecting and re-interpretting traditional Quebecois music in order to preserve their cultural history in the form of song.
I was particularly taken with how the fiddle music and traditional foot stomping combine to create a driving, pulsing, impossible-to-ignore rhythm that makes your heart pick up and your mouth start to edge upward.
It's beautiful music, throaty and soulful... and as a lover of history, oral traditions, and cultural continua, I found their mission quite inspiring and reassuring.
If you happen to follow the NPR link, I highly recommend listening to Le vieux cheval - it's an excellent example of what the group seems to do best. Magnifique!
I was particularly taken with how the fiddle music and traditional foot stomping combine to create a driving, pulsing, impossible-to-ignore rhythm that makes your heart pick up and your mouth start to edge upward.
It's beautiful music, throaty and soulful... and as a lover of history, oral traditions, and cultural continua, I found their mission quite inspiring and reassuring.
If you happen to follow the NPR link, I highly recommend listening to Le vieux cheval - it's an excellent example of what the group seems to do best. Magnifique!
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