Halloween candy and saying goodbye...

  

     I’m developing a taste for dark chocolate.  I avoided it for years, but I’m strangely drawn to it lately.  For me, it’s taken time to work through the at first sharp bitterness on my tongue and I’ve done so in great part because of the sweetness that rescues me as the bite melts in my mouth.  The resulting richness is so deep and pleasurable and lingers for quite some time.  And...unlike with other candy, a little goes a long way.

I was thinking about this....about bittersweet...last night as I sampled the left over Halloween candy.  My wonderings held particular significance because it was the eve of yet another bittersweet happening in my life.  And there have been a lot of those raining down lately. 

     Webster’s defines bittersweet as “pleasure alloyed with pain.”  Isn’t it true that as humans, our daily lives are a constant dance of pleasure laced with pain? We might not like to admit it, but if we are open to and accepting of both the bitter and the sweet, our experiences can shape us into more compassionate, empathic, deep-feeling people.

Last night marked the two month anniversary of my dog, Casco’s, death.  He was twelve and his life is a testament to the definition of bittersweet.  A fiercely independent, hyper, yet aloof boy, this yellow beast of a dog brought pleasure and pain of all sorts to my life on a daily basis.  His final passing on a Thursday evening was one of the most ridiculously emotional, traumatizing experiences of my life.  For weeks after we had to put this regal animal to sleep in a place he loved dearly (the vet’s office), I couldn’t speak of, or even hear others speak of, his passing without tears welling up and my throat clenching.  Yet....within hours of Casco leaving us, something magical was happening. 

In the middle of the very next day, I got a call from a dear friend.  Her Yellow Lab was beginning to give birth to her first litter of puppies and I was summoned to assist.  I was beside myself with sadness, yet my heart was invited to hold the joy of something amazing and incredibly moving as well.  With tears streaming, I somehow drove myself to Jessie’s side and assisted her in the births of four of her pups.  Talk about sweetness!  Five of the pups were yellow, just like my Casco, and the connectedness of his death and these new lives was profound.   It felt like his passing had made room for these tender babies.  It felt like he had somehow orchestrated this puppy birth (they were early!) for my benefit, for my personal healing. My pain over losing my pal was now laced with the pleasure of helping with the raising of my first litter of pups....and they all reminded me of my best days with him.

And now eight weeks have passed.  The puppies are ready to go home with their new families and I am hosting the transfer here at my puppy school later this afternoon.  Jessie, the Momma dog, will be here along with my sweet friend Vicki, Jessie’s owner.  Together, we will somehow place five of the puppies into the waiting arms of their new owners.  Our hearts will break and grow as we do so.  Each week of the puppies’ lives, I’ve played “litter sitter” on Fridays and have spent countless hours caring for them, while watching in awe as Jessie nurses them, teaches them to fend for themselves and coaches them in all sorts of puppy games.  It has been a deeply emotional experience for me, to say the least.  Our attachment to these warm, delightful bundles of adorableness is strong. 

We know that this is the flow of life...that pups need good homes and wonderful families to share in the joy of raising them.  Just like I knew when I took Casco into my life that someday he would no longer be with me, that I would surely outlive him, we also knew that Jessie’s pups would leave her and us when they were eight weeks old.  It’s a bittersweet day and feels very much like an ending and a beginning all at once.  The things we love go away, and we grow.  We grow from having experienced the cycle of life in all its glory, gore and ordinariness.  We grow by keeping our hearts open despite the knowledge that with the sweetness comes some pain...and some magic too.  

      Today, I am grateful for left over Halloween candy....  I’ll be choosing the dark chocolates, savoring the sweetness, and remembering Casco’s gift.

On Finding Your Best Self...

Is there a person, place or situation that invites, encourages and allows you to be your very best as a human being?  Perhaps you are in touch with this feeling in a relationship with a child or a lover.  Maybe you reach it through running a few miles or playing your guitar or volunteering at a soup kitchen.  You might paint or draw or sculpt or sing...and find your best self expressed within your art.  Mountains, the ocean or a sunrise might awaken it in you.  Whatever the vehicle for getting you there, if you’ve reached that place, you know joy.  You know deep peace, gratitude, humbleness and a sense of yourself as part of something expansive and wonderful.  

For me, I encounter my best self in the hot, sweaty room I’ve returned to hundreds of times over the last nine years to practice Bikram yoga.  Maybe it’s the mirrors that run the length of the studio, forcing you or inviting you (however you choose to view them on a particular day) to acknowledge yourself in all of your humanness.  The mirrors don’t lie and I think that’s part of why they are there:  to hold you accountable for who you are on any given day.  How’ve you been treating your body lately?  You’ll find the answer in the mirror.  Are you carrying sadness into your practice with you?  The mirror will reflect that back to you.  How much hate is in your heart today...for yourself, for your practice, for whatever?  You can’t escape it...it’s written on your body and staring back at you in that mirror.  

Stay with your practice long enough, and you’ll learn from the mirrors...maybe about loving yourself and accepting yourself just as you are in the present moment.  You might find kindness and a sense of softening toward your broken places, your faults, your mistakes, your flailing.  That’s certainly been true for me.  Over the course of nine years, I’ve dragged lots of shit into that room and dumped it all out on my mat, picked up the pieces and looked at them in those mirrors.  I’ve held up this or that thought, feeling or belief and taken a good hard look at it, cried over it, struggled with it, allowed it to wash over me in waves....and then let it go and found peace, over and over and over again.  

Besides the mirrors, there’s so much more in that hot room that challenges me and strips me to my bare bones, asking me what I’m made of, what I believe in, how much I’m willing to put myself out there and try...despite the heat and the sweat and the anguish of a grueling physical practice.  And asking me this, too:  am I willing to accept and perhaps even love myself for better or worse, despite how well I can do the postures or stand the heat?  The answers have changed over and over and over again as my practice has deepened, but the question is there every time I enter the room and settle in for a 90 minute encounter with my oh-so-human self.

Like with anything you commit yourself to wholeheartedly and practice often, things shift and things change...and you either quit or begin to shift and change yourself.  Now, at the very beginning of Year 10, there are a multitude of things that don’t affect me when I’m in the practice room.  There are things I used to cling to in the past that don’t have a hold on me in the present.  I’ve worked through a lot of my petty irritations with the practice itself and am able to be calm, centered and focused in a way that’s taken years to hone.  I don’t reach anxiously for my water bottle to cool me down or a towel to wipe my sweaty face, because I’ve let go of those things and I’ve developed a trust in my breath as the number one thing that’ll keep me going through the 90 minutes.   

And...since I’ve got less tugging on my mind while practicing, I’m able to truly listen to the coaching being offered up by the instructor and willingly and openly apply the fine-tuning to my postures.  It’s a collaborative effort between student and teacher to bring me, and each person in the room if they choose to engage, to the very fullest expression of each beautiful posture in the series.  And when you are able to find the strength, breath and stamina to hold on and make it to the end of the 30 seconds or minute and are STILL holding yourself in a posture, damn!  It feels mighty good.  And your teacher is so proud and energized by your effort.  You can hear it in his voice and you can feel it in your chest...that sense of accomplishment and pride in a job well done....together.  There’s really nothing else quite like that feeling for me, and it keeps me coming back as a humble warrior to try again, to deepen a posture just a little bit more, to practice stillness and calmness through my breath despite the intensity of everything around me...the mirrors, the heat, the humidity, the visible and audible efforts of my fellow students.  It’s insane and wonderful at once.  And it’s the way I find the best in myself, the way I measure my growth as a human being.  It’s an exquisite and powerful collaboration, all designed to bring health and well-being to those who are willing to engage fully with their whole being.  

Like anything else that requires dedication and discipline, the more you show up and allow yourself to be vulnerable and open, the more you learn, and in the case of my yoga...and perhaps your religion or relationship or volunteerism or athleticism...I’ve come to understand and know myself better through my willingness to be there, to show up again and again.  I’m as lazy and excuse-ridden as the next person, perhaps more so at times, but the memory of my sweaty face in that mirror is etched inside me and I’ve come to love that face because of what I’ve witnessed in that mirror.  It’s been an amazing and wonderful transformation, turning my negativity into strength, my vulnerability into something beautiful and strong.  My very best self and my ability to love who I am was discovered...uncovered...recovered... in a hot, smelly yoga studio and I am humbled and awed by that.  Namaste.

I'll Tell You A Secret

Lately I’ve been spending Monday evenings over at Justice In The Body (http://www.justiceinthebody.com/) and taking part in a six-week course on The Power of Vulnerability (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o).  I’m learning that there’s a difference (big) between shame and guilt.  I’m also learning that vulnerability isn’t always a dark emotion but is also the birthplace of all the beautiful emotions (empathy, love, joy, compassion) as well.  Our “teacher” for the course is Brene Brown who has been researching shame, vulnerability and something she calls “wholeheartedness” for years.   Along with about 15 others, I watch videos of Brene discussing her findings and then in between clips we talk as a group about what we think and how we feel in reaction to the info she’s presenting.  So, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the ways I avoid or embrace being vulnerable in my daily life and how I carry shame and why.  Big thoughts.

Meanwhile life goes on and this weekend I found myself seated for two solid days in a photography course where I, gulp, tried to learn how the hell a camera works.  And that, my dear friends, has prompted the writing of this blog.

I have a huge confession to make:  I don’t really know how to use a camera -- not “for real” anyway.  Oh, sure, I take some good photos, but the truth is that I NEVER use my camera in the manual mode.  I stay comfortably in the “safe zone” where the camera does all the thinking for me.  Lots of movement to be captured?  Put the camera in the “sports” mode.  Want to take a good head shot of a person?  Switch over to the “portrait” mode.  Looking at a beautiful natural vista? Take the photo in “landscape” mode.  

You may be thinking, “Who cares?  You take great photos, so why does it matter how you get there?”  True enough, but...what matters is how I feel about myself as a photographer and honestly, I feel like a fraud and I carry a lot of shame around with me about that.  I have a website dedicated to my photography where I post thousands of images that people actually fork over money to purchase, just like the “real photographers” do, and yet I am petrified and dumbfounded by figuring out all that stuff about aperture and f-stops and ISO and light metering that goes into taking a photo all by yourself without cheating.  Just typing those photography terms makes my palms sweat and my eye start to twitch.  I mean....do you even know what ISO means?  And do you have any idea about the MATH involved in figuring out f-stops?  It’s all frigging backwards.  If you want to add light, you have to subtract the numbers.  Things are halved and doubled.  The inside of a camera is like a house of mirrors.  What??!!   I get confused and overwhelmed and start feeling stupid and then I shut down.  It’s too hard.  I’m too dumb.  I can’t do it.  Those are the thoughts that fill my head, the old tapes that run in an ongoing loop through my mind, triggered by trying to learn something that is truly challenging for me.  My vulnerability switch is decidedly in the ON position, and my camera goes back into the cheat modes.

When we feel vulnerable, we want to hide.  We want to keep the secret safe from others.  We worry that if people knew about us, they’d reject us, judge us, talk behind our backs, ridicule us....essentially not love us anymore.  It doesn’t really matter what the “secret” is.  For me, it’s the inability to set my camera based on knowledge of the basics of photography and take a photo I can be proud of...to create art on my very own.  For you, it might be something big or something not-so-big.  Perhaps you are unhappy in your relationship and secretly contemplate leaving.   Maybe you struggle with your weight.  You may hide your drinking or your sexual preference.  Living with a secret, whatever it is, triggers shame and shame is a very sucky thing.  Shame silences you, separates you and steals your joy.  It casts a shadow over your life that follows you no matter what else might be going on.  You always have that voice in the back of your head that says, “yeah...but if they only knew the truth about me.”

While learning about vulnerability and shame, there’s also been this bright beacon of light surrounding this concept of “wholeheartedness” that Brene Brown has been bumping into in her research.  She’s found this cross section of people who, despite everything (shitty upbringing, lack of supports, etc.), believe in their own loveability and are able to love others well.  These folks, in the midst of their struggles, never feel like their worthiness is on the chopping block.  They have an underlying good feeling about themselves and others.  The difference with these folks is that they aren’t afraid to be vulnerable.  They are honest about who they are, what they need and want. They have the capacity to engage in their lives with authenticity, cultivate courage and compassion and deeply and profoundly embrace the imperfections of who they really are.  Holy shit, right?  Happiness is something Brene Brown has become intensely interested in, and the one thing she’s found that consistently co-occurs with true happiness is the notion of authenticity.  And in order to be authentic, you’ve got to be okay with a level of vulnerability most of us just aren’t comfortable with.

Before beginning this Power of Vulnerability study group, I thought I didn’t have any problems with vulnerability.  I saw myself as a pretty courageous person...overcoming the pains of my childhood, raising a healthy young adult, starting my own business and working hard to make it a success...those things take guts, right?  But there’s also this dark side...the place where I hide my secrets.  And these secrets keep me from reaching out to people, from engaging in my community in meaningful ways, and from working through my fears and learning to use my precious camera.  Anyone who knows me well knows how much I love to take photographs.  It is the absolute joy of my life, the one thing I can rely on every single day to put me in a better place emotionally.  In fact, my camera is actually a conduit and connecting point for me in otherwise awkward social situations...because I’m actually more of an introvert than an extrovert.  Put a camera in my hands and give me the role of photographer at an event and I feel more comfortable, safer, more relaxed.  

After a full day of instruction on Saturday, I went home, put on my mud boots, loaded my dogs into the car and took them for a long walk in the woods to clear my mind.  When we got to my favorite stream about 20 minutes down the path, the light was soft and beautiful and I watched the water bubbling and roiling over the ice-covered rocks and a few fat tears rolled down my cheeks.  I absolutely LOVE that water.  The number of times I’ve tried to capture it with my camera is too high to count, and honestly it’s not doable without taking a deep breath, putting the camera into the manual mode on a tripod and figuring out the math, deciphering the photography jargon and risking failure.  The truth is there WILL be failures.  I will take rotten, terrible photos.  And I will learn from them.  I will figure it out and at some point, I will start to get it right.  The water will start to look smoky and ethereal.  The rocks will be crisp and in focus.  And I will probably shed a few tears of a different kind, knowing that I did it on my own.   

So I’m out on a limb now and being vulnerable here in print.  I’ve taken my self-worth off the chopping block and I’m screwing up my courage and learning how to use my camera in the manual mode as a gift to myself.  Was this weekend’s photography seminar difficult for me?  You bet.  Was I uncomfortable at times?  Yep.  Did I want to shut down, give up and run away?  A time or two, yes.  But I hung in there because I desperately want this change, and as the different classes went on, I found myself feeling a bit more confident.  And on the breaks, I tried to apply the learning by fiddling with the settings on my camera and pressing the shutter button (which I am now calling the “shudder button”).  And I’ve made a promise to myself to not take a single photo for an entire week, no matter what, in the auto/cheat modes.  

And now it’s your turn, dear reader.  What’s your secret?  What’s that one scary thing you keep hidden from view...that one thing that silences you and steals your peace?  Perhaps it’s time to bring it into the light.  You may sleep better tonight with that weight off your chest, and you may find that the world rises up to welcome you into the fold of the wholehearted.  I’ll meet you there.  I'll be the one with the camera...

“Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” 

                                                                                                                                                  ― Brené Brown

We all need a little sunshine...

Is it just me, or has this winter been particularly challenging for the body and the spirit?  The combination of frigid, stormy winter weather and a sloth-like lethargy have leveled me this year.  So many factors have aligned, creating a “perfect storm” that’s got me dragging myself through my days, hoping for the warming sun of early spring to show up soon and redeem me.  Mainers have, indeed, earned their reputation as stalwart, hearty folk for wintering here year upon year.

Starting my work day in the dark....and then finishing it in the dark has left me feeling like all I do is crawl out of bed and crawl back into bed, day after day for six or eight weeks on end.  It’s hard to muster any enthusiasm for an after work walk with my dogs when I can’t see my own hand in front of my face, my teeth are chattering and the sidewalks are ice-covered.

It’s also unfortunate that the “busy time” at my chosen yoga studio is always in January/February.  Everyone is seeking refuge from the cold and trying to keep their New Year’s fitness resolutions, while clogging, stinking and sweating up my personal space.  Top that off with a Groupon offering by my studio for cheap classes last month, and it’s been hard to find a parking spot for my car in the lot much less a two-foot-by-six-foot space for my mat in the practice room.  On the one hand, going to yoga represents the opportunity to be around people (instead of dogs) and to move my body.  On the other hand, my bed is so much more inviting when I’m chilled to the bone from working outside all day.....even if it IS 6:00 p.m.

And then there’s food.  Let’s face it:  I don’t know a single person for whom food does not represent comfort.  Who wants to go to yoga when there’s a crock pot of lentil stew simmering in the kitchen after a day spent outside picking up dog poop and freezing your ass?  There seems to be no end to my cravings for comfort food lately.  Pasta and cheese and bread and mashed potatoes and...well...you get the picture.  I even baked cookies this week.  I want it ALL and then I want to roll into my warm bed and hibernate, with a fistful of cookies to munch until sweet slumber overtakes me.

Winter is, of course, a time for turning inward....hibernating or cocooning while awaiting spring’s rebirth, both in nature and within our own hearts.  Bears do it.  Caterpillars do it.  Why not me?  For so many years, I’ve been so good...running miles and miles in subzero weather, putting in dozens of classes in the hot yoga room during those frozen winter months.  This year, I’ve just lost my verve somehow.  I find it hard to recall how it was I got myself to don all those layers and hit the road....or take off all those layers and hit the mat.  

The thing that’s gotten me through these long, dark weeks has been my photography and for that I’m ever grateful.  Scrolling through years worth of images of glorious spring and summer hikes, sailing trips and sunny vacations has provided hope of warmer, longer days.  March is upon us now, and the birds are appearing and singing in the trees on some balmier late mornings and early afternoons.  A big group of European Starlings descended on my bird feeders last week and pecked and munched heartily while four fat Robins watched and waited their turn from the high, bare branches of a birch tree.  In the early mornings, a Cardinal couple has been staking out their territory in a neighboring yard, the male’s shiny coat studding an otherwise drab landscape with a brilliant dot of cherry while he calls out from the highest branch of an evergreen.

These harbingers of spring have drawn me out of my cocoon and back into the world a bit.  Ideas for creative projects are sprouting inside me and enthusiasm for a return to my athletic life is building.  And these dark, quiet times have given me ample opportunity to dwell on the possibility of change in some key areas of my life.  Painful and long as these winter days have been at times, we all know that pain and darkness pave the way toward change.  Perhaps it’s a good thing that we Mainers have this annual time of drawing inward and retreating from the cold for a while.  A slower pace and a more contemplative, broody mood might actually be healthy for the soul and the spirit, offering the chance to think things through, germinate a few seeds and prepare for the next season of weather and of life as well.  In any event, here we are just a few short weeks from spring.  We’ve almost made it through the dark.  My spirit feels ready for some thawing and the warmth of a strong sun.  And don’t we all need a little sunshine?  I hear it's coming on Saturday...all day. I'll be out there, drinking it in.

Everyday Angels

Angels are everywhere.  You and I know them, feel their presence, benefit from their love each and every day....if we take the time to acknowledge the love when it crosses our paths.  Human beings are angels, of that I am sure.  This holiday season has been a rough one for all of us, in the wake of the sad events that went on in Newtown, CT last Friday.  There is constant talk of the 26 angels who lost their lives and lots of plans being made and efforts undertaken to honor them.  We’re all thinking about them, and about their families and how devastated and shocked they must be.

When the news broke, I was just beginning the four-day task of baking 60 pounds of dog biscuits for a sale at my little school.   I knew immediately that I wanted to donate the money I’d be earning in some meaningful way, in light of the sadness and powerlessness we are all feeling right now.  I decided the best way for me to do that would be to honor my own angels.

There is such tremendous good happening in the world around us...and some of it is happening right here in Portland, Maine...in our own community.  Before I opened my business, I had the wonderful opportunity to work with some of the most giving, compassionate, genuinely loving people I’ve ever met.  It is in part because of their encouragement, belief in me and the example they set that I even HAVE the wonderful business that I’ve been able to build these last 6+ years.  They taught me how important it is to have a loving, generous heart.

I’m speaking about Stephanie Volo, Alex Fisher, Blake Findlay, Patty Smith and Kristen Smith of the Planet Dog team.  From the very beginning, Alex and Stephanie built their business around the idea of giving back.  Did you know that?  A portion of their company’s earnings have ALWAYS been dedicated and ear-marked for charitable causes centered around improving the lives of dogs in a variety of ways.  Kristen Smith has worked tirelessly for years to promote and extend the work of the Planet Dog Foundation.  In the up times and the down times, Planet Dog has never failed to give back, and to be caring and grateful stewards in our community.  When I wrote to Stephanie to tell her I was donating $500 to the Planet Dog Foundation, I told her I’d learned to have a giving heart from her....and I meant that sincerely.

In the days since the Newtown violence occurred, I have thought a lot about angels....those little souls now in heaven, but also those here on earth.  My life has been touched by so many earth angels like the Planet Dog folks through the years...people who were kind, supportive, giving, loving...with no expectation of anything in return.  All of these people have taught me how to love by their fine examples.  We need each other and we’re all in this life together, after all.  Kindness matters.

Before I went to sleep two nights ago, I made a list of 26 everyday angels who have touched my life in big and small ways.  Perhaps they’re good listeners, generous givers, excellent huggers....it doesn’t matter what their angelic quality is, the important thing is that they ACT...and that they continue to act...with kind, open hearts.  

Today, I am filled with a profound joy.  My dear mentors and guides, Stephanie Volo and Kristen Smith from Planet Dog just left my little school after being loved up by my dog students with a check for $520.00 from me to continue the amazing work of the Planet Dog Foundation.  This check honors the 26 angels who lost their lives last week and was given in acknowledgement of 26 everyday angels who have touched my life.  26 x $20 = $520.  If your name is on my list of everyday angels...this donation is my way of saying THANK YOU for being willing to reach out and love others.  Please visualize a $20 bill from your hands being tucked into the wings of one of the sweet angels who lost their lives so abruptly last week.  

If you have never heard about Planet Dog Foundation or read the mission statement for Planet Dog, please please take a moment to go to their website and browse around.  We are so very lucky to have such a fine company, run by a lovely bunch of earth angels, right here in our very own community.  Your patronage at their retail store and purchasing of their quality products extends the work they are able to do in our community and far, far beyond.  I am so fortunate to count them among my personal angels.

Before I name my everyday angels, I want to tell you how wonderful it makes you feel to GIVE...and I encourage all of you to give of yourselves from your hearts.  Reach out and touch someone with gentleness.  It makes you a better person, and we need angels here on this planet.

My Everyday Angels:

Stephen Andrew

Jane Begert

Michael Bernier

Kristen Boze

Joan Burke

Linda Campbell

Sherrie Chapman

Nancy Cooper

Brody Cullenberg

Carl Cullenberg

Delaine Hutchins

Judy Lappin

Elsa Larsen

Barbara McAllister

Evan McElligott

Roger Milliken

Victoria Rawski

Jenny Robinson

Michael Seymour

Kelley Souviney

Karen Stray-Gunderson

Tiffany Tappan

Patty Vashon

Stephanie Volo

Amy Waldrop

Angela Weymouth

The Shape of a Heart

Early this morning while out in the yard, I happened upon a maple leaf.  Creased and folded by who knows what, the leaf was now in the shape of a heart.  I picked it up, laid it in the palm of my hand for closer observation and decided its perfection needed to be photographed.  Meanwhile, dogs were milling around the playground in ever-higher numbers as customers came and went, dropping them with me for the day.  I slid the leaf/heart into the fence for safe-keeping and went for my camera inside the house.  Not too much later, I returned and it wasn’t there.  Forces (a windy morning, myriad distractions inside the house) had conspired to remove the leaf and all that was left was a memory of its golden, creased, heart-shaped splendor.

Of course, tenacious sleuth that I am, I searched fervently for it in crevices between half-dead, leafy plants and in rocky hiding spots, but to no avail. I watched the wind to see which way it might’ve blown, but the moment....and my heart...was gone.  Almost as soon as I began to search, I understood (and smiled at) the higher meaning of what was transpiring, of how the Universe was playing with me....if I chose to participate.  And on this crisp mid-November morning, I did...I did.

The Universe has been tugging at me for a few years now, showing me images of hearts in nature over and over.  You cynics and realists (you know who you are) will say that it’s just my mind looking for hearts.  I, however, can decide for myself what’s going on.  It is true that once your eye starts to see the shape of a heart, it gets easier to identify that shape, and your eye is drawn to it more easily as time goes on.  But, I'm constantly bumping into hearts/love everywhere.  Do you understand yet where all of this is going?

The heart is the metaphor for love, of course.  The Universe keeps drawing my attention to love.  Sometimes it’s just a fleeting glimpse, like the heart leaf this morning, to acknowledge, enjoy and release.  Other times it’s more concrete and tangible, something to retrieve from nature and keep in my love collection.  But that’s just the physical side of things.  On a more spiritual/emotional level, what is all this “looking for love” and “in the shape of a heart” stuff all about?  What's the pull?  Some days, I believe that when a heart-shaped something in nature captures me, it’s my maternal grandmother saying “hello” from the great beyond.  My Memere taught me about unconditional love...what it’s like to really feel that from another human being.  So, often when I encounter a rock or a piece of bark that’s heart-shaped, I feel like Mem G is reminding me that I am loved and worthy of love and I just smile and say, "Hi, Mem!"

Today’s leaf was different.  When I saw it, I thought, "no way...it's too perfect."  I flipped it over and saw how the folds and creases had shaped it.  As I held it in my palm, I made the choice to stow it outside rather than try and carry it with me into the house.  It felt too fragile and I didn’t want to crush it, so I carefully slipped it into the chain-link fence instead.  And then life stepped in, as it always does, and I didn’t get back to the “love” in time to record it with my camera.  Only the memory of it remained.  Isn’t love like that?  Aren’t we all trying to hold onto love, to capture it and record it and keep it...to make it tangible, real, lasting?  And...isn’t love a tricky thing?  Today, it felt like the Universe was being very literal, almost knocking me over the head to involve me in this story about a dead leaf....a leaf that had fallen from a maple tree in exhaustion or relief or ecstacy (who knows), spent and drained of its radiant color and ready to be carried on the wind to its final resting place.  But...not quite yet.

This leaf had been shaped by life...into love, or at least into the most universally understood symbol for love, the heart.  Perhaps it had been stepped on by humans, chewed on by puppies, scraped by a rake...resulting in creases and folds and wrinkles that, taken as a whole, turned a maple leaf into a heart.  And I got to glimpse this love for a moment.  I got to hold it in the palm of my hand, to turn it over and examine it closely, with a sense of wonder about how it had become such a perfect little heart.  And then it was gone.  Taking photos, for me, helps me hold onto beautiful things.  I wouldn’t have kept the leaf, but my photos would’ve allowed me to keep the memory of it around so that I could go back to it and feel the love again.

In the human world of relationships, we can’t hold onto love with a camera or a photo.  Sometimes....we can’t seem to hold onto love at all.  I’m trying to get used to the idea that love/bliss/joy/connection happens in small, brief moments, and to be accepting of that....just as it is.  The Buddhist concept of non-attachment is a tough one for me to practice, as I often want more.  There is so much wanting and longing....  This heart-shaped leaf reminded me today not to hang love on the fence and run away to get a camera.  It might not be there when you return.  Next time, I might just enjoy the love in the moment it’s presented and felt.  The time I spent holding the leaf (and feeling the love) was the briefest part of the whole experience.  The searching for it when I returned to the spot  where I’d left it took far more time.  And searching for it was fruitless.  There were leaves all over the ground, stuck between rocks and clinging to the remnants of summer flowers gone to seed.  And then there was all that time spent thinking about the magnificence of that little heart-shaped leaf, trying to etch it into my memory, reliving the excitement of finding it and holding it for those few seconds.

The next time I am present enough to feel it when love comes calling...I hope I have the presence of mind to stay, to be still, to hold on.  The love might come in the human form, as a meaningful connection with an open soul.  It might be carried on the notes of a beautiful piece of music, or it might be exquisitely rendered in a few lines of a novel.  It might be granted to me by a puppy or dog in my care who allows me into her world, or it might be presented by Nature as a beautiful rock or a bubbling brook.  I want to BE there for it.  I want to get lost in it with all of my senses, to feel it as fully as possible.  It’ll be hard not to reach for my camera....but I will try to wait a few precious seconds longer than I’m comfortable with and just let the moment sink into my bones, fill my chest and make me whole.  Namaste.

Constant Craving: Facing My Appetite

"Eating rice cakes is like chewing on a foam coffee cup,

 only less filling."

            ---Dave Barry

After four weeks of trying to conquer my cravings, I am now of the opinion that the 7-day juice cleanse was easier than kicking my old food habits has been.  Each day on the cleanse, there was nothing to think about, no choices to make.  It was simply, “Here’s your juice.  Drink up!” repeated three times per day for 7 days.  Coming off the cleanse, I was ten pounds thinner and full of plans and enthusiasm for a whole new way of eating and being healthy.  Words like “vegetarian,” “organic,” and “vegan” as a lifestyle were tossed around as if they were no-brainers and easily achievable.  Having not eaten any solid food for 7 days, I didn’t have much of an appetite for the first week or two.  “This’ll be a piece of cake!” thought I...so naively.  What I failed to realize is that the desire for that piece of cake would soon return...and with a vengeance I was completely unprepared for.  

Once my “wants” and cravings started to reemerge, I was inundated by messages coming from inside me for pasta and bread and chocolate and coffee.  As I tried to stay steady on the path, I found myself faltering, being pulled in a million directions by old habits and desires for cheese burgers and muffins and french fries.  And I fell on my face...or more aptly put, my face fell with a splat into a plate of spaghetti.  I felt like an addict, to be quite honest.  It was all I could do to make it through the day without cheating a million times.  It felt as if I had no control over myself and my appetites.  The wanting was overwhelming.  I was panicked and stressed and felt like such a loser.  I couldn’t even write about what I was going through....because I felt like a failure, like this was just too hard.  And in my panic (and daily food cheats), I started to backslide....a pound here and a pound there.  I was angry...at myself, at the world (have you ever noticed that food is pushed and pimped EVERYWHERE?!), at my husband (who wasn’t having any effing problem continuing to eat healthily and was still steadily losing weight).  This THING I’d undertaken was getting the best of me, clearly.

The only place I felt “safe” during these crazy couple of weeks was in the yoga room.  It was a struggle to get myself there, what with that voice in my head telling me to go order a pizza instead...but when I did get there, I was able to start figuring this thing out.  As always, I went back to my learning about the ego gleaned from the work of Eckhart Tolle.  I applied that knowledge to this situation and began to see that voice encouraging me to eat and cheat and give up as separate from the “real me.”  Once again, I tuned into the fact that “my ego is not my friend.”  I remember seeing a quote someone posted on Facebook recently: “Don’t believe everything you think.”  That’s exactly true in this situation I’ve been struggling with.  If I believed everything that voice in my head has been saying, I’d be in big trouble.  Instead, I have decided to give this voice it’s own persona.  It had to be something reflective of how I envision this voice inside me and what it would look like in real life.  So....meet my inner voice!  

Isn’t she perfect?  This is an actual person (poor dear) that I saw on the street in Galway on my recent trip to Ireland and snuck a few pics of.  So now, when I hear that voice in my head telling me I neeeeed a cupcake, this is the face I see.  It was either her or Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers movie, but I think he’s so cute and silly that I HAD to pick this lady instead.  "Give me a pizza!" coming from HER just seems easier to say NO to, you know?

It’s been a couple of weeks since I freaked out about that addictive appetite of mine that came screaming back to life and demanding cheeseburgers.  I was “saved” by my friend Jacqueline who is a co-owner of Mojo Health Bar.  While picking up our juice one morning, Mike told Jacqueline that I was in the throes of quite a battle with my cravings and she said, “Peanut butter....tell her to eat peanut butter on apple slices when she’s freaking out.”  Sounds quirky, but I’ll tell you what: it worked.  I have a crisp, Maine Cortland apple every day at 10:30 and dip to my delight in the good kind of peanut butter from Whole Foods.  It’s helped me turn the corner.  Jacqueline also told me that I needed to have a list of go-to foods that are “legal” on my new diet that satisfy me...things that taste good and that I actually enjoy eating.  The more of these that I can come up with and keep on hand, the easier it will be to say NO when a craving hits.  Great advice....and that’s working for me, too.

So, it’s been about five weeks now from the day we started our cleanse.  I have returned to the 10-pound weight loss mark after wobbling a bit, and I feel calm and stable most of the time with my ability to choose healthy food for myself.  Mike has lost 20 pounds, it's true, but he has other demons he's battling.  He refers to my daily pep talks  as "the lecture series" today.  

       I’ve learned a valuable lesson about the ONE thing that was missing for me in this whole “feeding myself better” endeavor:  self-love.  It makes me tearful to think back to how I was treating myself just a couple of weeks ago...beating up on myself for having cravings, feeling like a total failure because I was succumbing to that voice in my head and then feeling awful after cheating.  All of my issues with not trusting myself, low self-esteem and not feeling good about myself came screaming back with a vengeance and I had to figure out how the hell to keep my head above water.  I was shocked at how deeply these roots run, and how they permeate so many aspects of my life.  This food thing is yet another facet on the diamond that I'm bringing up to the light for closer examination.  So, I’m picking myself up, dusting myself off and learning to be both gentle and strong at the same time.  I’ve allowed myself to taste the stuff I am missing once in a while, and when I am gentle with myself in this way, I come away stronger and NOT wanting that food again.  Instead of being petrified and panicked at my longing for cookies and french fries and pizza, I’m finding that when I do indulge a bit, I bust the craving wide open and expose it to the light....and it goes away.  That’s not to say that blueberry pie from Two Fat Cats doesn’t taste delicious (I wanted to lick the plate!!!), but I am learning moderation and I’m learning to set goals and earn something I don’t get to have very often.  And I’m learning to savor every bite when I indulge in something delicious.  I’m also finding that some of those things I’ve been waxing nostalgic about aren’t really all that attractive to me any longer, that they are losing their power over me.  Most of the time when I eat something from my “old way of life,” I get a tummy ache or other symptoms that speak to why I wanted to stop eating those things in the first place.

"Crave for a thing, you will get it.  Renounce the craving, the object will follow you by itself."

---Swami Sivananda

I still want to lose 5 more pounds, but today I am happy that I feel a greater sense of self-control, an overriding compassion for myself and what I am attempting to overcome, and a sense of peace and non-attachment to that voice in my head that clearly is NOT my friend.  I am feeling stronger in my yoga practice, centered in my daily life and am grateful for this opportunity to challenge myself and learn what I’m made of.  Learning to love yourself is a daily practice.  Feeding yourself well is just part of that process.  Yoga helps.  Making art gets me through.  I am becoming the person I’ve wanted....inch by inch.  Namaste.  

Making tortillas in Belize, 2009