Yoga made me a better mother.
Seriously.
I’m not kidding.
TRUST ME.
Once upon a time, I was a sullen, surly teenage girl. I wore lots of black and wrote bad poetry. Morrissey, my birthday twin, was my idol and then later Henry Rollins (if you know who both are, you are ahead of the game). I was EMO before there was such a term. I was living, eating breathing stereotype.
I also did lots of things to be different, long before I turned 18. I was a vegetarian, long before it went mainstream (back in the dark ages, finding foods or eating out was brutal) I did belly dancing because my local Y offered it. I learned how to restore ancient textiles volunteering at an 17th century house turned museum. And I discovered yoga.
My whole life turned upside down.
Literally.
One thing that has remained a constant throughout my adult life is my practice to yoga. I could list the five gazillion benefits it has afforded me, but that is another time, another place. The greatest reward it has given me is making me a better mother.
Through yoga, I was able to transform myself from that angry teenager with the poor fashion sense and bad writing skills to who I am today. As I’ve grown my practice has grown and transformed, gone deeper. I don’t do the more physical poses (you won’t catch me in scorpion anymore, that’s for darn sure) that I could 25 years ago. Instead, I find myself twisting and stretching. There is nothing better than triangle first thing in the morning. I love how it stretches out my body and focuses me.
I have learned to listen to my body from yoga. When I feel like the weight of the world on my shoulders, chances are I am holding onto something that could make me snap. It’s a symptom of neglecting self care. I am much more attuned when I am getting sick or not getting enough rest. I can make minor adjustments and hopefully avoid things spiraling out of control.
Yoga has taught me to breathe. That might sound strange since we all breathe-without it we are dead. Literally. Breathing deeply, and opening up my lungs has prevented me from saying things that might break little boy’s hearts and crushing his soul. I have learned to take that five breath time out to stop myself from saying something that I might regret later.
Through the practice of yoga, I have learned patience. Its called practice for a reason. There are some asanas that after all these years I still haven’t mastered. Its ok There isn’t some master exam to prove whether or not you can do x move or not. I have learned that sometimes you need to wait. Silence is ok too, because its in that silence you sometimes hear so much.
When my son was little, and new to us, he didn’t have any functional language. Most of his communication was through gestures or a series of screams and nonsensical babble. It was like playing charades with Pantera. Over time, because I just listened and observed and was silent, I began to discern what each movement or sound meant. It opened the door to us bonding, and having conversations. We were able to understand each other more, just by listening to the silence.
Yoga made me a better mother because I was able to share that with my son. We have been practicing yoga for almost five years together. In the beginning, it was a way for him to learn to focus, to calm himself and to stretch out muscles he would keep clenched and tight. We would do it before bed in hopes of helping him sleep better. We would do a few quick asanas before school, to help him calm his mind to focus on school work. We bonded over a mat and downward dog. We learned to trust each other because of yoga.
I am a better wife, mother and person because of yoga.
Serious.
Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity. Margaret D. Nadauld
Showing posts with label three word wednesday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label three word wednesday. Show all posts
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
through the past, darkly
Every so often, I have one of those fitful nights when I really, honestly can’t sleep. I think about things-nothing major-and hope for the best to fall back asleep. Tax time brought back a lot of painful memories of how the past year transpired and played out. I didn’t think that it would impact me as much as it did. Instead of claiming two children, it was one. Instead of claiming adoption expenses, it was a failure.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
through the past, darkly
Every so often, I have one of those fitful nights when I really, honestly can’t sleep. I think about things-nothing major-and hope for the best to fall back asleep. Tax time brought back a lot of painful memories of how the past year transpired and played out. I didn’t think that it would impact me as much as it did. Instead of claiming two children, it was one. Instead of claiming adoption expenses, it was a failure.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
through the past, darkly
Every so often, I have one of those fitful nights when I really, honestly can’t sleep. I think about things-nothing major-and hope for the best to fall back asleep. Tax time brought back a lot of painful memories of how the past year transpired and played out. I didn’t think that it would impact me as much as it did. Instead of claiming two children, it was one. Instead of claiming adoption expenses, it was a failure.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
The Change Inside Me
Every so often I go through a growth spurt. Not a physical growth spurt, like my son who seems to grow inches over night...but a spiritual or emotional growth. I admit I've been stagnant for quite a while, and this growth-while painful-is necessary to become a better person.
Life is meant to be lived as a final copy, not a rough draft.
I've been living as if I'm waiting for a do over.
I know that I've reached my breaking point when I feel as if I'm suffocating when I am stifling my feelings. It's as if I am choking when I'm not speaking my truth. It depletes my store of serenity and peace.
My goal has been to lead an authentic life, and in order to do so, I have to follow my bliss. Lately, I find that lacking in my life, and it makes me sad. I am finding that I am increasingly surrounded by events and people that challenge my faith and commitment. While I know you are given what you can handle, I find myself buckling under the current weight of my life.
I know that this is just a blip on the radar and I will be looking back a few months from now, knowing I'm a better , stronger person for overcoming.
Right now, it frankly stinks.
I'm looking at the big picture, and I realize that a lot of what I want, hope and desire are missing from not only the foreground but the background. In fact, I can't locate them at all. It saddens me that I have deviated from my life path so much, that I need GPS to find my way back.
Nothing is set in stone; all can be changed and challenged.
Life is meant to be lived as a final copy, not a rough draft.
I've been living as if I'm waiting for a do over.
I know that I've reached my breaking point when I feel as if I'm suffocating when I am stifling my feelings. It's as if I am choking when I'm not speaking my truth. It depletes my store of serenity and peace.
My goal has been to lead an authentic life, and in order to do so, I have to follow my bliss. Lately, I find that lacking in my life, and it makes me sad. I am finding that I am increasingly surrounded by events and people that challenge my faith and commitment. While I know you are given what you can handle, I find myself buckling under the current weight of my life.
I know that this is just a blip on the radar and I will be looking back a few months from now, knowing I'm a better , stronger person for overcoming.
Right now, it frankly stinks.
I'm looking at the big picture, and I realize that a lot of what I want, hope and desire are missing from not only the foreground but the background. In fact, I can't locate them at all. It saddens me that I have deviated from my life path so much, that I need GPS to find my way back.
Nothing is set in stone; all can be changed and challenged.
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Anarchy in the UK
The other morning, it dawned on me that I was the same age as my son when I discovered punk rock, and my life irrevocably changed. It was 1979, and it was London Calling.
It was a very different era. There wasn't iTunes, no Internet, no twitter or Facebook. It was a chance to explore bands based on what you heard at the record store.
I was a few years older when I got further into the "scene", or as much as a prepubescent, precocious child could. It was several years after Sid Vicious' death; Johnny Rotten had gone on to form PiL, and I had moved from the NYC area to Salt Lake City.
From the first time I heard Johnny Rotten growling "right now" and the evil, maniacal laughter that starts Anarchy in the UK, I was a goner.
This was a magical time in the history of punk. There was a vibrant scene on both coasts, as well as Europe. Just watching Decline of Western Civilization, Penelope Spheris' brilliant documentary of the LA punk scene, justifies the hype.
SLC at the time was a crossroads. Bands from both coasts played gigs. There were vibrant local bands. Punks from all over flocked to the region, much like San Francisco in the 60's or Portland in the 90's. There was skiing, skateboarding, a terrific hangout with Raunch Records as well as local radio support. The movie SLC Punk, while attempting to portray it, never quite got it right. It was a few degrees short of truth. Or at least how I remember the truth.
The punk subculture was a great breeding ground for those of us who felt like misfits. I wrote poetry and was best, the prototype for Winona Ryder's character in Beetlejuice. I liked attempting to take pictures of lightening and old cemeteries. I looked more like a cross between a mod and a goth chick, and made it through my teen years with multiple ear piercings and tattoo free.
My son was scrolling through my track listing on iTunes the other day and he wanted to hear my favorite 5 songs of all time on there, but the catch was they all had to be from different artists.
All time?
Different groups?
Wowzers.
Tough call.
So, I fired it up and gave him an aural treat.
5. Bastards of Young-replacements
4. The New World-X
3. When the Angels Sing-Social Distortion
2. Anarchy in the UK-Sex Pistols
1. London Calling-the Clash
Needless to say, little man, who is from the era of Lady Gaga and autotune, wasn't impressed. His father has quite different musical taste than i do. My son likes ska, the mats and the clash. However his 2 favorite songs are poker face and who let the dogs out. But he's 9, and he has a solid foundation of good music.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICXdQR1VVhw&feature=youtube_gdata_player
It was a very different era. There wasn't iTunes, no Internet, no twitter or Facebook. It was a chance to explore bands based on what you heard at the record store.
I was a few years older when I got further into the "scene", or as much as a prepubescent, precocious child could. It was several years after Sid Vicious' death; Johnny Rotten had gone on to form PiL, and I had moved from the NYC area to Salt Lake City.
From the first time I heard Johnny Rotten growling "right now" and the evil, maniacal laughter that starts Anarchy in the UK, I was a goner.
This was a magical time in the history of punk. There was a vibrant scene on both coasts, as well as Europe. Just watching Decline of Western Civilization, Penelope Spheris' brilliant documentary of the LA punk scene, justifies the hype.
SLC at the time was a crossroads. Bands from both coasts played gigs. There were vibrant local bands. Punks from all over flocked to the region, much like San Francisco in the 60's or Portland in the 90's. There was skiing, skateboarding, a terrific hangout with Raunch Records as well as local radio support. The movie SLC Punk, while attempting to portray it, never quite got it right. It was a few degrees short of truth. Or at least how I remember the truth.
The punk subculture was a great breeding ground for those of us who felt like misfits. I wrote poetry and was best, the prototype for Winona Ryder's character in Beetlejuice. I liked attempting to take pictures of lightening and old cemeteries. I looked more like a cross between a mod and a goth chick, and made it through my teen years with multiple ear piercings and tattoo free.
My son was scrolling through my track listing on iTunes the other day and he wanted to hear my favorite 5 songs of all time on there, but the catch was they all had to be from different artists.
All time?
Different groups?
Wowzers.
Tough call.
So, I fired it up and gave him an aural treat.
5. Bastards of Young-replacements
4. The New World-X
3. When the Angels Sing-Social Distortion
2. Anarchy in the UK-Sex Pistols
1. London Calling-the Clash
Needless to say, little man, who is from the era of Lady Gaga and autotune, wasn't impressed. His father has quite different musical taste than i do. My son likes ska, the mats and the clash. However his 2 favorite songs are poker face and who let the dogs out. But he's 9, and he has a solid foundation of good music.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICXdQR1VVhw&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Thursday, March 29, 2012
The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys
We quickly morphed from winter to very warm spring in my part of the country. In other words, we went from boots to sandals, seemingly overnight. As a result, winter feet need to become summer feet, overnight.
One of the biggest problems with winter feet is the lack of maintaining smooth skin. Sticking feet into socks, tights, boots and all that jostling can lead to a build up of calluses and cracked heels.
Other than looking ugly and having the ability to turn panty hose into unrecognizable remnants, cracked heels can be incredibly painful. Fissures can develop in the skin, which is where it opens up and can even bleed!
If that is the case, you need to treat the fissures first, before you do anything else. A podiatrist can help remedy that situation, and heal your feet.
No fissures lead to some other treatment options. The primary goal is to get rid of the calluses. There are a wide variety of commercial products out there, but I like my home remedies best!
First, soaking your feet in a mixture of warm milk and water will soften the calluses. Lactic acid in the milk will make it easier to exfoliate. Rinse your feet and dry lightly.
Next, use a pumice stone on your calluses. This bit of volcanic rock is a miracle pedicure tool!
Soak your feet again in warm water.
Dry them and use a thick cream on the heels. Wear socks overnight and the next day you should see an improvement.
For tougher cases, you need to step it up a few notches. Using tea tree oil, a natural, fragrant antiseptic, will help heal your heels. Soaking in a combination of warm water and Epsom salt, and then applying coconut oil to the heels (with socks going on) will help make your feet sandal ready soon.
To stop this from going into crisis mode in the future, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Staying hydrated helps your skin. Drinking at least 64 ounces of WATER (the rule of thumb is to drink half your body weight in water-if you weight 150 lbs you should drink 75 oz, and so on).
If you are overweight, you are more likely to develop cracked heels due to friction and pressure.
Regular maintenance helps. Weekly pedicures, either in a salon or at home, will keep your heels looking soft and sleek. Nightly moisturizing also helps. A thick cream or coconut oil, with socks, will prevent you from needing to panic when the temperatures soar.
One of the biggest problems with winter feet is the lack of maintaining smooth skin. Sticking feet into socks, tights, boots and all that jostling can lead to a build up of calluses and cracked heels.
Other than looking ugly and having the ability to turn panty hose into unrecognizable remnants, cracked heels can be incredibly painful. Fissures can develop in the skin, which is where it opens up and can even bleed!
If that is the case, you need to treat the fissures first, before you do anything else. A podiatrist can help remedy that situation, and heal your feet.
No fissures lead to some other treatment options. The primary goal is to get rid of the calluses. There are a wide variety of commercial products out there, but I like my home remedies best!
First, soaking your feet in a mixture of warm milk and water will soften the calluses. Lactic acid in the milk will make it easier to exfoliate. Rinse your feet and dry lightly.
Next, use a pumice stone on your calluses. This bit of volcanic rock is a miracle pedicure tool!
Soak your feet again in warm water.
Dry them and use a thick cream on the heels. Wear socks overnight and the next day you should see an improvement.
For tougher cases, you need to step it up a few notches. Using tea tree oil, a natural, fragrant antiseptic, will help heal your heels. Soaking in a combination of warm water and Epsom salt, and then applying coconut oil to the heels (with socks going on) will help make your feet sandal ready soon.
To stop this from going into crisis mode in the future, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Staying hydrated helps your skin. Drinking at least 64 ounces of WATER (the rule of thumb is to drink half your body weight in water-if you weight 150 lbs you should drink 75 oz, and so on).
If you are overweight, you are more likely to develop cracked heels due to friction and pressure.
Regular maintenance helps. Weekly pedicures, either in a salon or at home, will keep your heels looking soft and sleek. Nightly moisturizing also helps. A thick cream or coconut oil, with socks, will prevent you from needing to panic when the temperatures soar.
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Fighter
I will admit that the last year has been a struggle for me. At this time a year ago, I was nearly a size 12. Today, not so much. I've become supersized and that is a bitter pill to swallow. Quite honestly, I'm disappointed in myself for not keeping up with my healthy living choices.
There are a million excuses as to why all this changed, but none change the fact it did.
It's not too late to change this, but it will take dedication and determination to do it. I need to make consistent healthy choices and to move. The problem is my head knows one thing, and I swear I go into a fog and don't do it.
As a result, here I am today.
It's not about getting skinny, it's about getting HEALTHY. It's making consistent choices that are good for me. It's the difference between drinking water and a soda. Or a salad and a big Mac. Or going back for that second helping. Or deciding to chow down on popcorn or chocolate all afternoon.
It's about making the right decision on a regular basis. It's about navigating the sea of bad choices to find an island of health.
In my head, I do everything right. In reality, I struggle daily to make the right choice 20% of the time.
There are a lot of layers and nuances to it as well. I am an emotional eater. I stuff my feelings with food. The past year, I've done a lot of stuffing. Id rather eat, it appears, than facing what was bothering me. It seems when I'm stressed, I can't resist my food weaknesses, and I don't like working out. Over the last 11 years I have seen the scale creep up, but the past year was the worst. The fact that I am so busy and have so many demands on me requires me to make healthy choices and to move more. There's always an unforeseen crinkle in the carrot, but I have to get back on the planning wagon.
There are a million excuses as to why all this changed, but none change the fact it did.
It's not too late to change this, but it will take dedication and determination to do it. I need to make consistent healthy choices and to move. The problem is my head knows one thing, and I swear I go into a fog and don't do it.
As a result, here I am today.
It's not about getting skinny, it's about getting HEALTHY. It's making consistent choices that are good for me. It's the difference between drinking water and a soda. Or a salad and a big Mac. Or going back for that second helping. Or deciding to chow down on popcorn or chocolate all afternoon.
It's about making the right decision on a regular basis. It's about navigating the sea of bad choices to find an island of health.
In my head, I do everything right. In reality, I struggle daily to make the right choice 20% of the time.
There are a lot of layers and nuances to it as well. I am an emotional eater. I stuff my feelings with food. The past year, I've done a lot of stuffing. Id rather eat, it appears, than facing what was bothering me. It seems when I'm stressed, I can't resist my food weaknesses, and I don't like working out. Over the last 11 years I have seen the scale creep up, but the past year was the worst. The fact that I am so busy and have so many demands on me requires me to make healthy choices and to move more. There's always an unforeseen crinkle in the carrot, but I have to get back on the planning wagon.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Don't Bring Me Down
I think everyone needs a personal cheerleader. Someone who will pat you on the back and say "good job". We all need a cheer when you have a tough day to switch perspective.
Unfortunately, most of the time we wind up with negative nellies and Debbie downers who just want everyone to be as miserable as they are. It's a subliminal form of control: they can't stand seeing other people being happy.
The unfortunate part is there are more negative folks than positive out there. They seem to congregate around the happier folks too, like moths to a flame. It seems that their soul purpose is to crush happy people's spirits.
As the old adage goes, haters are going to hate.
And they do.
It seems as if a percentage of the population suffer from schadenfreude. Shylock is their hero, and they demand a pound of flesh from the happy and non bitter. Somehow I don't think that their sunday school education included Romans 12:17
15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.[a] Never be wise in your own sight. 17 Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all.
If you are of a more secular persuasion, as Barry Manilow sang:
You see I feel sad when you're sad
I feel glad when you're glad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile without you
Instead, it seems as if there are more angry, nasty, vindictive people who are lying in wait for the happier people to have a bad day or a momentary lapse in their bliss. Using the concept of Occam's Razor, we are shaving away to the basic concept: there are people who just want others to be as sad and miserable as they are.
To wit: a friend of mine was visiting with other moms before a PTA meeting. She just lost all the baby weight and had gone back to work and was feeling really good. Several of the other moms channeled their inner mean girls and made catty remarks (not to my friend's face, of course). During the meeting, these girls (and that's how they were behaving) sat in the row behind her, continuing to make comments. By the time the meeting was over, she was ready to burst into tears.
We were talking over lunch the other day about it, and it still upset her.
We teach our kids to be nice; to not say anything if we can't say something nice. We teach our kids to be good friends to each other, to overlook differences and try to find common ground. One of the blessings of autism is my son doesn't understand nuances-he calls it like he sees it. If you're mean, hes going to call you on it. Sometimes I wish I had that freedom to just say it.
The sad thing is bullying doesn't end once we graduate from school, it just takes on different facets. It happens in PTA's, the gym and even *gasp* the yoga studio. I just wish we can take what we are teaching our kids and apply it to our lives. We need to look for the good in everyone else, just like we teach our kids to. Practicing namaste-the light in me salutes the light in you-will help make the world a better place.
Unfortunately, most of the time we wind up with negative nellies and Debbie downers who just want everyone to be as miserable as they are. It's a subliminal form of control: they can't stand seeing other people being happy.
The unfortunate part is there are more negative folks than positive out there. They seem to congregate around the happier folks too, like moths to a flame. It seems that their soul purpose is to crush happy people's spirits.
As the old adage goes, haters are going to hate.
And they do.
It seems as if a percentage of the population suffer from schadenfreude. Shylock is their hero, and they demand a pound of flesh from the happy and non bitter. Somehow I don't think that their sunday school education included Romans 12:17
15 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.[a] Never be wise in your own sight. 17 Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all.
If you are of a more secular persuasion, as Barry Manilow sang:
You see I feel sad when you're sad
I feel glad when you're glad
If you only knew what I'm going through
I just can't smile without you
Instead, it seems as if there are more angry, nasty, vindictive people who are lying in wait for the happier people to have a bad day or a momentary lapse in their bliss. Using the concept of Occam's Razor, we are shaving away to the basic concept: there are people who just want others to be as sad and miserable as they are.
To wit: a friend of mine was visiting with other moms before a PTA meeting. She just lost all the baby weight and had gone back to work and was feeling really good. Several of the other moms channeled their inner mean girls and made catty remarks (not to my friend's face, of course). During the meeting, these girls (and that's how they were behaving) sat in the row behind her, continuing to make comments. By the time the meeting was over, she was ready to burst into tears.
We were talking over lunch the other day about it, and it still upset her.
We teach our kids to be nice; to not say anything if we can't say something nice. We teach our kids to be good friends to each other, to overlook differences and try to find common ground. One of the blessings of autism is my son doesn't understand nuances-he calls it like he sees it. If you're mean, hes going to call you on it. Sometimes I wish I had that freedom to just say it.
The sad thing is bullying doesn't end once we graduate from school, it just takes on different facets. It happens in PTA's, the gym and even *gasp* the yoga studio. I just wish we can take what we are teaching our kids and apply it to our lives. We need to look for the good in everyone else, just like we teach our kids to. Practicing namaste-the light in me salutes the light in you-will help make the world a better place.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Nightmare at the Scrapbook Store
This week in Mommydom I had been featuring scrapbooking, and I was planning on doing a really nice post about my local scrapbook store, R Scrapbook Store, especially since I was planning a trip there this weekend. However, that option is off the table. I had planned to attend a crop there on Friday night, but I wound up with a conflict, so I couldn’t go.
I did the mature and responsible thing and called to cancel. That’s when it began to go downhill. I politely explained to the woman who answered the phone that I needed to cancel my enrollment at the crop, because of a conflict.
She told me that I was going to get charged for cancelling because I missed the deadline. I pulled up the website and searched for a cancellation policy, and found none. I looked at the email newsletter I had received, which clued me into the fact that there was a crop in the first place, and saw nothing listed, other than the fact you had to pay in advance for classes. The woman on the phone, obviously exasperated by the fact that I had no idea there was a sign by the cash register stating this policy, told me that no way would I refunded my deposit. Granted its $5, but at this point it was the principle of the matter. I politely explained that I did this over the phone and I had not been informed that there was a cancellation policy.
I was told that crops that charge “hundreds of dollars have a no refund policy too”. That was great, I told her, but I would not be attending one of those either.
This is when the freak out began.
I politely explained that I had an unforeseen conflict, and that since nothing was stated either via email, phone or website, I was unaware they had any cancellation policy. I politely asked for the manager, and found out she is on medical leave, so the person I was talking to was in charge. I asked her to check the website, that maybe I am missing something. She barked at me “Hold on”, put me on hold for what seemed like an eternity (it was really 6 minutes and 42 seconds, but who’s counting) and gave me a sliver of hope.
“You’re right. There’s nothing there with the policy”.
As I was ready to thank her and be on my merry way, with the $5.30 (don’t forget the tax!) credited to my credit card, when it really went south. “You know,” she said, “I am paying for you out of my own money since you obviously can’t afford five dollars and thirty cents”.
Ouch.
After I caught my breath because I was so stunned, I asked her to repeat that. She did, and I did hear her correctly. I called her on being rude and condescending, and she told me that she was doing me a favor.
I did mention that my experience was going to get mentioned on social media, since at this point I was hoping she realized how rude she sounded, but she stated that I could tweet it to thousands of people, she really didn’t care.
So I did.
Its been retweeted.
Its on Facebook.
I blogged about it here.
I have already mentioned it personally to numerous scrapbooking friends.
And they lost me as a customer, sorry to say, because I did like the store. They make it clear that they are a Christian based business (closed Sundays for the Lord!) and independently owned, so that fit into my model of shopping local. In fact, I was willing to spend a little extra on things because they were a locally owned business. However, I will be using mail order to my LSS in New Jersey, because of one employee’s rudeness in a local store. I don’t like to be spiteful, but I am not going to spend my hard earned money in a place that is disrespectful to their customers.
Have you had a situation where you received such horrible customer service that you never went back to that store/restaurant/whatever? If so, I want to hear your horror stories. Email them to me at mrsdimemmo AT gmail dot com and you can be featured in an upcoming blog post!
I did the mature and responsible thing and called to cancel. That’s when it began to go downhill. I politely explained to the woman who answered the phone that I needed to cancel my enrollment at the crop, because of a conflict.
She told me that I was going to get charged for cancelling because I missed the deadline. I pulled up the website and searched for a cancellation policy, and found none. I looked at the email newsletter I had received, which clued me into the fact that there was a crop in the first place, and saw nothing listed, other than the fact you had to pay in advance for classes. The woman on the phone, obviously exasperated by the fact that I had no idea there was a sign by the cash register stating this policy, told me that no way would I refunded my deposit. Granted its $5, but at this point it was the principle of the matter. I politely explained that I did this over the phone and I had not been informed that there was a cancellation policy.
I was told that crops that charge “hundreds of dollars have a no refund policy too”. That was great, I told her, but I would not be attending one of those either.
This is when the freak out began.
I politely explained that I had an unforeseen conflict, and that since nothing was stated either via email, phone or website, I was unaware they had any cancellation policy. I politely asked for the manager, and found out she is on medical leave, so the person I was talking to was in charge. I asked her to check the website, that maybe I am missing something. She barked at me “Hold on”, put me on hold for what seemed like an eternity (it was really 6 minutes and 42 seconds, but who’s counting) and gave me a sliver of hope.
“You’re right. There’s nothing there with the policy”.
As I was ready to thank her and be on my merry way, with the $5.30 (don’t forget the tax!) credited to my credit card, when it really went south. “You know,” she said, “I am paying for you out of my own money since you obviously can’t afford five dollars and thirty cents”.
Ouch.
After I caught my breath because I was so stunned, I asked her to repeat that. She did, and I did hear her correctly. I called her on being rude and condescending, and she told me that she was doing me a favor.
I did mention that my experience was going to get mentioned on social media, since at this point I was hoping she realized how rude she sounded, but she stated that I could tweet it to thousands of people, she really didn’t care.
So I did.
Its been retweeted.
Its on Facebook.
I blogged about it here.
I have already mentioned it personally to numerous scrapbooking friends.
And they lost me as a customer, sorry to say, because I did like the store. They make it clear that they are a Christian based business (closed Sundays for the Lord!) and independently owned, so that fit into my model of shopping local. In fact, I was willing to spend a little extra on things because they were a locally owned business. However, I will be using mail order to my LSS in New Jersey, because of one employee’s rudeness in a local store. I don’t like to be spiteful, but I am not going to spend my hard earned money in a place that is disrespectful to their customers.
Have you had a situation where you received such horrible customer service that you never went back to that store/restaurant/whatever? If so, I want to hear your horror stories. Email them to me at mrsdimemmo AT gmail dot com and you can be featured in an upcoming blog post!
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Serious
Yoga made me a better mother.
Seriously.
I’m not kidding.
TRUST ME.
Once upon a time, I was a sullen, surly teenage girl. I wore lots of black and wrote bad poetry. Morrissey, my birthday twin, was my idol and then later Henry Rollins (if you know who both are, you are ahead of the game). I was EMO before there was such a term. I was living, eating breathing stereotype.
I also did lots of things to be different, long before I turned 18. I was a vegetarian, long before it went mainstream (back in the dark ages, finding foods or eating out was brutal) I did belly dancing because my local Y offered it. I learned how to restore ancient textiles volunteering at an 17th century house turned museum. And I discovered yoga.
My whole life turned upside down.
Literally.
One thing that has remained a constant throughout my adult life is my practice to yoga. I could list the five gazillion benefits it has afforded me, but that is another time, another place. The greatest reward it has given me is making me a better mother.
Through yoga, I was able to transform myself from that angry teenager with the poor fashion sense and bad writing skills to who I am today. As I’ve grown my practice has grown and transformed, gone deeper. I don’t do the more physical poses (you won’t catch me in scorpion anymore, that’s for darn sure) that I could 25 years ago. Instead, I find myself twisting and stretching. There is nothing better than triangle first thing in the morning. I love how it stretches out my body and focuses me.
I have learned to listen to my body from yoga. When I feel like the weight of the world on my shoulders, chances are I am holding onto something that could make me snap. It’s a symptom of neglecting self care. I am much more attuned when I am getting sick or not getting enough rest. I can make minor adjustments and hopefully avoid things spiraling out of control.
Yoga has taught me to breathe. That might sound strange since we all breathe-without it we are dead. Literally. Breathing deeply, and opening up my lungs has prevented me from saying things that might break little boy’s hearts and crushing his soul. I have learned to take that five breath time out to stop myself from saying something that I might regret later.
Through the practice of yoga, I have learned patience. Its called practice for a reason. There are some asanas that after all these years I still haven’t mastered. Its ok There isn’t some master exam to prove whether or not you can do x move or not. I have learned that sometimes you need to wait. Silence is ok too, because its in that silence you sometimes hear so much.
When my son was little, and new to us, he didn’t have any functional language. Most of his communication was through gestures or a series of screams and nonsensical babble. It was like playing charades with Pantera. Over time, because I just listened and observed and was silent, I began to discern what each movement or sound meant. It opened the door to us bonding, and having conversations. We were able to understand each other more, just by listening to the silence.
Yoga made me a better mother because I was able to share that with my son. We have been practicing yoga for almost five years together. In the beginning, it was a way for him to learn to focus, to calm himself and to stretch out muscles he would keep clenched and tight. We would do it before bed in hopes of helping him sleep better. We would do a few quick asanas before school, to help him calm his mind to focus on school work. We bonded over a mat and downward dog. We learned to trust each other because of yoga.
I am a better wife, mother and person because of yoga.
Serious.
Seriously.
I’m not kidding.
TRUST ME.
Once upon a time, I was a sullen, surly teenage girl. I wore lots of black and wrote bad poetry. Morrissey, my birthday twin, was my idol and then later Henry Rollins (if you know who both are, you are ahead of the game). I was EMO before there was such a term. I was living, eating breathing stereotype.
I also did lots of things to be different, long before I turned 18. I was a vegetarian, long before it went mainstream (back in the dark ages, finding foods or eating out was brutal) I did belly dancing because my local Y offered it. I learned how to restore ancient textiles volunteering at an 17th century house turned museum. And I discovered yoga.
My whole life turned upside down.
Literally.
One thing that has remained a constant throughout my adult life is my practice to yoga. I could list the five gazillion benefits it has afforded me, but that is another time, another place. The greatest reward it has given me is making me a better mother.
Through yoga, I was able to transform myself from that angry teenager with the poor fashion sense and bad writing skills to who I am today. As I’ve grown my practice has grown and transformed, gone deeper. I don’t do the more physical poses (you won’t catch me in scorpion anymore, that’s for darn sure) that I could 25 years ago. Instead, I find myself twisting and stretching. There is nothing better than triangle first thing in the morning. I love how it stretches out my body and focuses me.
I have learned to listen to my body from yoga. When I feel like the weight of the world on my shoulders, chances are I am holding onto something that could make me snap. It’s a symptom of neglecting self care. I am much more attuned when I am getting sick or not getting enough rest. I can make minor adjustments and hopefully avoid things spiraling out of control.
Yoga has taught me to breathe. That might sound strange since we all breathe-without it we are dead. Literally. Breathing deeply, and opening up my lungs has prevented me from saying things that might break little boy’s hearts and crushing his soul. I have learned to take that five breath time out to stop myself from saying something that I might regret later.
Through the practice of yoga, I have learned patience. Its called practice for a reason. There are some asanas that after all these years I still haven’t mastered. Its ok There isn’t some master exam to prove whether or not you can do x move or not. I have learned that sometimes you need to wait. Silence is ok too, because its in that silence you sometimes hear so much.
When my son was little, and new to us, he didn’t have any functional language. Most of his communication was through gestures or a series of screams and nonsensical babble. It was like playing charades with Pantera. Over time, because I just listened and observed and was silent, I began to discern what each movement or sound meant. It opened the door to us bonding, and having conversations. We were able to understand each other more, just by listening to the silence.
Yoga made me a better mother because I was able to share that with my son. We have been practicing yoga for almost five years together. In the beginning, it was a way for him to learn to focus, to calm himself and to stretch out muscles he would keep clenched and tight. We would do it before bed in hopes of helping him sleep better. We would do a few quick asanas before school, to help him calm his mind to focus on school work. We bonded over a mat and downward dog. We learned to trust each other because of yoga.
I am a better wife, mother and person because of yoga.
Serious.
Wednesday, January 04, 2012
(talking about) resolutions
It's a new year and everyone is talking about their resolutions, goals and what not (find mine here:http://mommydomchronicles.blogspot.com/2011/12/new-years-resolution.html?m=1)
My intention today is to do three healthy things. If I do more, great. If not, It doesn't mean I'm naughty or anything. Better choices means better for my family and better for me (its a win all the way around!)
It's a simple start. 3 little things-moving, water and saying no to soda. The water and soda issues are more work related, because it's choices I make for 8 hours a day.
The movement choice is a different story.
I work out at home, mainly because of time constraints. I have cardio equipment, free weights and a husband who used to be a body builder.
What I dont have a lot of is willpower.
However, the older I get, the more I realize that I need to take better care of myself, completely. It's eating better, it's getting enough sleep, it's moving more. There are so many different tactics to my war on being unhealthy. My struggle is 8 hours at work, with unhealthy vending machine and cafeteria choices surrounding me. I even bring healthy snacks...and succumb to temptation some days. I know that it will happen, and I can't beat myself up over it.
Instead of feeling low, I need to think of it as a journey towards the zenith of healthy living.
Each journey starts with a step, and today's step is this:
Eggnog oatmeal
1/2 c oatmeal
1/2 c Ricenog
1 tbsp dried cranberries
Mix together, microwave for 60 seconds.
My intention today is to do three healthy things. If I do more, great. If not, It doesn't mean I'm naughty or anything. Better choices means better for my family and better for me (its a win all the way around!)
It's a simple start. 3 little things-moving, water and saying no to soda. The water and soda issues are more work related, because it's choices I make for 8 hours a day.
The movement choice is a different story.
I work out at home, mainly because of time constraints. I have cardio equipment, free weights and a husband who used to be a body builder.
What I dont have a lot of is willpower.
However, the older I get, the more I realize that I need to take better care of myself, completely. It's eating better, it's getting enough sleep, it's moving more. There are so many different tactics to my war on being unhealthy. My struggle is 8 hours at work, with unhealthy vending machine and cafeteria choices surrounding me. I even bring healthy snacks...and succumb to temptation some days. I know that it will happen, and I can't beat myself up over it.
Instead of feeling low, I need to think of it as a journey towards the zenith of healthy living.
Each journey starts with a step, and today's step is this:
Eggnog oatmeal
1/2 c oatmeal
1/2 c Ricenog
1 tbsp dried cranberries
Mix together, microwave for 60 seconds.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
New Years Resolution
I don't do resolutions. Generally speaking, resolutions don't work. It's setting yourself up for failure, quite honestly. I am all about intentions though.
At the start of yoga practice, you are supposed to set an intention for your practice. It could be something as extreme as world peace or as quiet as inner peace. There is a website where you can upload your intentions: http://www.intent.com and sometimes when I'm stuck, it can be motivating.
Way back when I would come up with these sweeping, life changing ideas and by February I would be back on the couch with my two best friends, Ben & Jerry. Just by tweaking it, intention vs. Resolution, I'm much more successful.
For 2012, I intend to do lots of things. I intend for my business to take off. I intend to write another book. I intend to practice 365 days of yoga. I intend on following my bliss, wherever that takes me. I intend to make healthy eating and increased movement a priority. I intend to demolish the walls I've built around me and let my spirit soar. I intend to listen to that still small voice more often. Most of all, I intend to say no more often: if it doesnt fit into my life plan, then it's a no. If you do not support my life plan, then you are a no. If you are a food that isn't good for me, then you are a no.
Setting an intention rather than a resolution can transform your way of thinking about goals for the new year.
I even like to make my intentions as part of New Year's decorating by writing them on the centerpiece. In fact the whole family does, by making tissue paper flowers.
To do it, you need
Tissue paper (I get mine at the $ store or you can recycle from Christmas)
Pipe cleaners
Scissors
Markers
You can either cut the tissue paper in circles or squares. You need 8-10 per flower.
Write intention on tissue paper squares.
Stack
Accordion pleat your stack.
In the middle of your stack, attach a pipe cleaner.
Fluff out your flower by opening the pleats.
Display in a vase
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CUWF6fAAtWI&feature=youtube_gdata_player
At the start of yoga practice, you are supposed to set an intention for your practice. It could be something as extreme as world peace or as quiet as inner peace. There is a website where you can upload your intentions: http://www.intent.com and sometimes when I'm stuck, it can be motivating.
Way back when I would come up with these sweeping, life changing ideas and by February I would be back on the couch with my two best friends, Ben & Jerry. Just by tweaking it, intention vs. Resolution, I'm much more successful.
For 2012, I intend to do lots of things. I intend for my business to take off. I intend to write another book. I intend to practice 365 days of yoga. I intend on following my bliss, wherever that takes me. I intend to make healthy eating and increased movement a priority. I intend to demolish the walls I've built around me and let my spirit soar. I intend to listen to that still small voice more often. Most of all, I intend to say no more often: if it doesnt fit into my life plan, then it's a no. If you do not support my life plan, then you are a no. If you are a food that isn't good for me, then you are a no.
Setting an intention rather than a resolution can transform your way of thinking about goals for the new year.
I even like to make my intentions as part of New Year's decorating by writing them on the centerpiece. In fact the whole family does, by making tissue paper flowers.
To do it, you need
Tissue paper (I get mine at the $ store or you can recycle from Christmas)
Pipe cleaners
Scissors
Markers
You can either cut the tissue paper in circles or squares. You need 8-10 per flower.
Write intention on tissue paper squares.
Stack
Accordion pleat your stack.
In the middle of your stack, attach a pipe cleaner.
Fluff out your flower by opening the pleats.
Display in a vase
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CUWF6fAAtWI&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Dirty Business
Every so often, I get on a kick with a particular band. For weeks on end, they are the primary artist in heavy rotation on the iPod. A while back, it was Elvis Costello, then Bjork and after that, Tori Amos. There really isn’t any impetus for it-I may hear a song on the radio (as was in the case of Elvis Costello, I was driving in the car with the family when What’s So Funny About (Peace, Love and Understanding) came on. For about a month, it was all Elvis, all the time.
A few weeks later, I happened across Bjork’s movie debut, Dancer in the Dark, which in turn inspired me to download her greatest hits album. Later that month, the new Tori Amos album came out, and Barnes & Noble happened to be playing it in the music section, which in turn inspired me to upload my whole Tori collection.
Currently, I am on a Dresden Dolls/Amanda Palmer kick, and its all Perez Hilton’s fault.
The other day, I was on his website (yes, I do read Perez for my gossip) and he had posted a link to Amanda Palmer (lead singer of Dresden Dolls) singing with Moby and Neil Gaiman on the Late Late Show…needless to say I immediately remembered how much I loved the album, “Yes Virginia” and quickly uploaded it my playlist.
I have a bit of vinidcation for the Princess-she is the one who really got me into the band. Palmer is married to Gaiman, who is one of my favorite authors (American Gods is one of the most truly amazing books I’ve ever read, with Coraline being a close second), and there is this incestuous feel to how everyone is interrelated. I do find solace that there are some brilliant minds coming together and making even more amazing art in concert with one another.
However, I digress. I have been listening to Yes, Virginia and it has been one of those it really gets what I am going through at this given moment. The opening piano solo of Sex Changes belies the rock backbeat that quickly overruns the song. One could close their eyes and picture it being sung on Broadway (or maybe, way off Broadway, in an experimental playhouse) in a Sweeny Todd like production. Actually, all the songs would fit in a theatrical production. Currently, Backstabber is one of my favorite songs and seems to be on repeat a lot. Singing along to it, at the top of my lungs, when I am alone in the car can be quite cathartic. It also raises my curiosity if the song is about a particular person or if it is completely fictitious. Whatever the inspiration, anger and rage never sounded so beautiful. The furious pacing of Modern Moonlight is the anti-Twilight soundtrack song-Death Cab for Cutie its not.
My Alcoholic Friends inspires my mind to think of a gothic tap routine. It’s the perfect beat for a soft shoe…but with, as Palmer describes their music, Brechtian caberet. Delilah starts off as a beautiful ballad; Palmer’s husky alto intertwines with the aching piano. One could almost picture it being sung, alone in the middle of a stage, with a spotlight over the singer, fading to black at the end. Dirty Business is another song that you could imagine dancers being integral to a live performance. The next two songs are a little bit of a let down compared to the rest of the album, but even masterpieces like London Calling or the White Album have their slow moments.
The last three songs must have been written with live performances in mind. You can almost envision a choreographer working on Mandy Goes to Med School with a bunch of tap dancing chorus girls, and an Ethel Merman-esque singer belting out the song. Same goes for Necessary Evil and Me & The Minibar.
Yes Virginia is a great introduction to the Dresden Dolls and their unique sound and vision.
A few weeks later, I happened across Bjork’s movie debut, Dancer in the Dark, which in turn inspired me to download her greatest hits album. Later that month, the new Tori Amos album came out, and Barnes & Noble happened to be playing it in the music section, which in turn inspired me to upload my whole Tori collection.
Currently, I am on a Dresden Dolls/Amanda Palmer kick, and its all Perez Hilton’s fault.
The other day, I was on his website (yes, I do read Perez for my gossip) and he had posted a link to Amanda Palmer (lead singer of Dresden Dolls) singing with Moby and Neil Gaiman on the Late Late Show…needless to say I immediately remembered how much I loved the album, “Yes Virginia” and quickly uploaded it my playlist.
I have a bit of vinidcation for the Princess-she is the one who really got me into the band. Palmer is married to Gaiman, who is one of my favorite authors (American Gods is one of the most truly amazing books I’ve ever read, with Coraline being a close second), and there is this incestuous feel to how everyone is interrelated. I do find solace that there are some brilliant minds coming together and making even more amazing art in concert with one another.
However, I digress. I have been listening to Yes, Virginia and it has been one of those it really gets what I am going through at this given moment. The opening piano solo of Sex Changes belies the rock backbeat that quickly overruns the song. One could close their eyes and picture it being sung on Broadway (or maybe, way off Broadway, in an experimental playhouse) in a Sweeny Todd like production. Actually, all the songs would fit in a theatrical production. Currently, Backstabber is one of my favorite songs and seems to be on repeat a lot. Singing along to it, at the top of my lungs, when I am alone in the car can be quite cathartic. It also raises my curiosity if the song is about a particular person or if it is completely fictitious. Whatever the inspiration, anger and rage never sounded so beautiful. The furious pacing of Modern Moonlight is the anti-Twilight soundtrack song-Death Cab for Cutie its not.
My Alcoholic Friends inspires my mind to think of a gothic tap routine. It’s the perfect beat for a soft shoe…but with, as Palmer describes their music, Brechtian caberet. Delilah starts off as a beautiful ballad; Palmer’s husky alto intertwines with the aching piano. One could almost picture it being sung, alone in the middle of a stage, with a spotlight over the singer, fading to black at the end. Dirty Business is another song that you could imagine dancers being integral to a live performance. The next two songs are a little bit of a let down compared to the rest of the album, but even masterpieces like London Calling or the White Album have their slow moments.
The last three songs must have been written with live performances in mind. You can almost envision a choreographer working on Mandy Goes to Med School with a bunch of tap dancing chorus girls, and an Ethel Merman-esque singer belting out the song. Same goes for Necessary Evil and Me & The Minibar.
Yes Virginia is a great introduction to the Dresden Dolls and their unique sound and vision.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Weak in the presence of beauty
thanks to the Now Pavillion magazine launch, I had a total make over at Sephora in JC Penny. I have to admit, I was very nervous about the whole thing, because I am not much of a make up person. In fact, a lot of times when I make my self up I look like Steve Martin (a wild & crazy gal, a la The Jerk) loud, brash & obnoxious. My usualy beauty routine in the morning is wash my face, toner, moisturizer and the only make up I wear consistently is blush, eye shadow and Burt's Bees lipstick. There's quite a bit of carnage in the make up bag: failed colors that don't look good on me, eyeliner that punctures my skin (I don't want tattooed eyes),
At Sephora, I got the full treatment. Even though I am in my 40's, there was a lot of product they used on me that I had never heard of, let alone used. For example: primer. Never even knew it existed (actually that's a lie, I had read about it in Vogue) let alone used it. Now, I can't exist without it.
I don't do a lot of eye make up, so the make up artist did a more dramatic eye for me. actually the fact she put mascara and eye liner on together was dramatic enough. The big man wasn't too impressed, but its ok. Once in a blue moon, its ok; but...
At Sephora, I got the full treatment. Even though I am in my 40's, there was a lot of product they used on me that I had never heard of, let alone used. For example: primer. Never even knew it existed (actually that's a lie, I had read about it in Vogue) let alone used it. Now, I can't exist without it.
I don't do a lot of eye make up, so the make up artist did a more dramatic eye for me. actually the fact she put mascara and eye liner on together was dramatic enough. The big man wasn't too impressed, but its ok. Once in a blue moon, its ok; but...
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
I will admit I am a bit of a pushover. I dont like conflict, so I try my best to avoid it. I try to keep myself in a pretty zen state. I practice yoga and meditation. I like to keep things organized and tidy. I am, for the most part, a highly positive, energetic person.
I have never had a hard time making decisions, now I find myself tentative. Where I once was bold, now I am timid.
As of late, I've been drained, exhausted, lethargic and talked out. As hard as I have tried to be as happy as possible, for my sake as well as my family's, that wall of bliss is continually being breached. It's like the home fires have diminished to smoldering embers. The vibes surrounding me are not harmonious, if you want to put it in new agey terms.
Speaking of new agey, my energy healing friend has mentioned to me one of the biggest problems she deals with that brings in a large clientele happens to be psychic vampires.
Before you laugh this off, this was not the first time I've heard this hypothesis. About 15 years ago, Katherine Ramsland gave a lecture and book signing at Borders in Princeton when her book Piercing the Darkness came out. It was a fascinating look at the vampire subculture, thriving long before twilight & it's ilk.
Traditional vampires feed on blood. Think of Dracula (Gary Oldman in Bram Stokers Dracula, when he purrs to Winona Ryder: "I've crossed oceans of time for you") and the other vampires who have infiltrated pop culture. Right now vampires are trendy, they are the it monster.
Psychic vampires suck your chi, your energy, your life source. Most people know someone that once one spends time with them, they feel drained and exhausted. Chances are that this draining person is a psychic vampire.
As reported at http://healing.about.com/cs/energyhealing/a/aa_vampires.htm, some of the traits of an energy sucker include:
Feelings of rejection or abandonment
Needing constant reassurance and nuturing (high maintenance)
Never feeling satisfied
Low energy level or constantly fatigued
While we all know people like that (or can exhibit some of those traits too), there's more to the formula than that. It's just there are some folks are better at sucking energy from others to "feed".
From http://www.earthspirit.com/fireheart/fhvampire.html
Emotionally and physically, vampires are unpredictable, moody, temperamental and overwhelming. The major distinguishing characteristic of real vampires as opposed to ordinary people who share those qualities is the vampire's intensity. Vampires are extremely intense people. They are frequently given nicknames such as "the black hole." When others talk about them (usually to complain about them), vampires are often described by such terms as "needy," "attention-seeking," "grandstanding," "manipulative," "exhausting," "draining," "monopolizes the conversation," "jealous," "huge ego," and so on. A vampire's emotions are deep, fervent, and powerful, and she usually displays great psychic ability and has uncontrolled magickal and psychic experiences. Vampires are also empaths, and while they remain unconscious of their natures, they are frequently "psychic sponges" who simply absorb vibrations from everywhere, with the expected emotional instability resulting.
A "hungry" vampire -- one whose energy level is imbalanced to the deficit side -- becomes an involuntary psychic vortex, drawing all pranic energy in the area towards her. When the energy does not flow in fast enough -- and it is typical of vampires that the energy never flows fast enough for them -- she will begin manifesting behavior patterns to increase the amount of conscious attention she gets from others. For this reason, some vampires develop a pattern of being aggressively confrontational, or of constantly antagonizing people with whom they have relationships. Nearly all vampires, whatever ploys they use, have a talent for attracting (or distracting) the attention of everyone present.
Many people find that they feel "creepy" or "weird" around a vampire. This is usually due to the effects of one's own life force being drawn towards the vampire's vortex. Most people feel uncomfortable and distracted when their energy is pulled away from themselves. In addition to this, a common result of such an energy drain is for the aura to pull in tightly towards the body, and this causes a prickling sensation on the skin -- the "creepy-crawlies."
There, apparently, different types of psychic vampires, according to http://thedemoniacal.blogspot.com/2010/07/psychic-vampire.html
1.) Emotional Vampire - Emotional vampires tend to be of the evil variety and manipulate people's emotions in order to feed. For example, an emotional vampire is keen on riling a person up with anger, simply to feast on the person's energy. Emotional vampires are very manipulative and dangerous. Unfortunately, the majority of emotional vampires are female. I suppose it might be because so many men are stunted or repressed when it comes to their emotions, which puts them at greater risk of becoming a victim of these vampy women. Those emotional vampires who are not evil tend to be the people with the motto, "Oh, Poor Me...". They always have a sob story and desperately need people to feel sorry for them.
2.) Tantric Vampire - Tantric vampires are generally not evil, unless they cannot control themselves and break the law or throw out all traces of morality. Tantric vampires feed off of the energy released during sex. Their 'victims' are willing donors though they may not realize they are being fed on. It doesn't really matter that they don't know they are being fed on as all that energy is being dumped into the environment during lovemaking anyway. Tantric vampires simply don't let it go to waste.
3.) Astral Vampire - Astral vampires are 100% evil. They are parasites. An astral vampire is either a human being who can astral travel and then feed on victims in a distant place or else a psychic vampire who has died and has for some unknown reason failed to cross over and is now an earthbound spirit. Since the spirit regularly fed on the life force of others while it was alive, it now continues such activity in spirit form.
4.) Elemental Vampire - Elemental vampires are generally good. Elemental vampires do not drain the life force of people, but instead absorb the life force of nature. Most Witches are in fact elemental vampires who, according to legend, gain their powers from the moon. Many elemental vampires try to help other more dangerous psychic vampires realize they need not suck the life force of human beings as mother nature provides all the energy one may need. Instead of feasting on a person like a monster, why not go outside and absorb the energy of a thunderstorm or take a walk in the woods and bask in the life force of the trees?
According to many different websites I've visited, some of the best ways to protect yourself are:
Avoid the person
Avoid negativity in your own life
Release any negativity, anger and conflict you may be holding within
Prayer
Eliminating clutter in your life
Wearing a protection amulet
Meditation
Smudging
Pouring salt around your house
So much for crosses and garlic!
Whether you are dealing with someone high maintenance, needy or a psychic vampire, you just need to always be mindful, aware and fully present.
I have never had a hard time making decisions, now I find myself tentative. Where I once was bold, now I am timid.
As of late, I've been drained, exhausted, lethargic and talked out. As hard as I have tried to be as happy as possible, for my sake as well as my family's, that wall of bliss is continually being breached. It's like the home fires have diminished to smoldering embers. The vibes surrounding me are not harmonious, if you want to put it in new agey terms.
Speaking of new agey, my energy healing friend has mentioned to me one of the biggest problems she deals with that brings in a large clientele happens to be psychic vampires.
Before you laugh this off, this was not the first time I've heard this hypothesis. About 15 years ago, Katherine Ramsland gave a lecture and book signing at Borders in Princeton when her book Piercing the Darkness came out. It was a fascinating look at the vampire subculture, thriving long before twilight & it's ilk.
Traditional vampires feed on blood. Think of Dracula (Gary Oldman in Bram Stokers Dracula, when he purrs to Winona Ryder: "I've crossed oceans of time for you") and the other vampires who have infiltrated pop culture. Right now vampires are trendy, they are the it monster.
Psychic vampires suck your chi, your energy, your life source. Most people know someone that once one spends time with them, they feel drained and exhausted. Chances are that this draining person is a psychic vampire.
As reported at http://healing.about.com/cs/energyhealing/a/aa_vampires.htm, some of the traits of an energy sucker include:
Feelings of rejection or abandonment
Needing constant reassurance and nuturing (high maintenance)
Never feeling satisfied
Low energy level or constantly fatigued
While we all know people like that (or can exhibit some of those traits too), there's more to the formula than that. It's just there are some folks are better at sucking energy from others to "feed".
From http://www.earthspirit.com/fireheart/fhvampire.html
Emotionally and physically, vampires are unpredictable, moody, temperamental and overwhelming. The major distinguishing characteristic of real vampires as opposed to ordinary people who share those qualities is the vampire's intensity. Vampires are extremely intense people. They are frequently given nicknames such as "the black hole." When others talk about them (usually to complain about them), vampires are often described by such terms as "needy," "attention-seeking," "grandstanding," "manipulative," "exhausting," "draining," "monopolizes the conversation," "jealous," "huge ego," and so on. A vampire's emotions are deep, fervent, and powerful, and she usually displays great psychic ability and has uncontrolled magickal and psychic experiences. Vampires are also empaths, and while they remain unconscious of their natures, they are frequently "psychic sponges" who simply absorb vibrations from everywhere, with the expected emotional instability resulting.
A "hungry" vampire -- one whose energy level is imbalanced to the deficit side -- becomes an involuntary psychic vortex, drawing all pranic energy in the area towards her. When the energy does not flow in fast enough -- and it is typical of vampires that the energy never flows fast enough for them -- she will begin manifesting behavior patterns to increase the amount of conscious attention she gets from others. For this reason, some vampires develop a pattern of being aggressively confrontational, or of constantly antagonizing people with whom they have relationships. Nearly all vampires, whatever ploys they use, have a talent for attracting (or distracting) the attention of everyone present.
Many people find that they feel "creepy" or "weird" around a vampire. This is usually due to the effects of one's own life force being drawn towards the vampire's vortex. Most people feel uncomfortable and distracted when their energy is pulled away from themselves. In addition to this, a common result of such an energy drain is for the aura to pull in tightly towards the body, and this causes a prickling sensation on the skin -- the "creepy-crawlies."
There, apparently, different types of psychic vampires, according to http://thedemoniacal.blogspot.com/2010/07/psychic-vampire.html
1.) Emotional Vampire - Emotional vampires tend to be of the evil variety and manipulate people's emotions in order to feed. For example, an emotional vampire is keen on riling a person up with anger, simply to feast on the person's energy. Emotional vampires are very manipulative and dangerous. Unfortunately, the majority of emotional vampires are female. I suppose it might be because so many men are stunted or repressed when it comes to their emotions, which puts them at greater risk of becoming a victim of these vampy women. Those emotional vampires who are not evil tend to be the people with the motto, "Oh, Poor Me...". They always have a sob story and desperately need people to feel sorry for them.
2.) Tantric Vampire - Tantric vampires are generally not evil, unless they cannot control themselves and break the law or throw out all traces of morality. Tantric vampires feed off of the energy released during sex. Their 'victims' are willing donors though they may not realize they are being fed on. It doesn't really matter that they don't know they are being fed on as all that energy is being dumped into the environment during lovemaking anyway. Tantric vampires simply don't let it go to waste.
3.) Astral Vampire - Astral vampires are 100% evil. They are parasites. An astral vampire is either a human being who can astral travel and then feed on victims in a distant place or else a psychic vampire who has died and has for some unknown reason failed to cross over and is now an earthbound spirit. Since the spirit regularly fed on the life force of others while it was alive, it now continues such activity in spirit form.
4.) Elemental Vampire - Elemental vampires are generally good. Elemental vampires do not drain the life force of people, but instead absorb the life force of nature. Most Witches are in fact elemental vampires who, according to legend, gain their powers from the moon. Many elemental vampires try to help other more dangerous psychic vampires realize they need not suck the life force of human beings as mother nature provides all the energy one may need. Instead of feasting on a person like a monster, why not go outside and absorb the energy of a thunderstorm or take a walk in the woods and bask in the life force of the trees?
According to many different websites I've visited, some of the best ways to protect yourself are:
Avoid the person
Avoid negativity in your own life
Release any negativity, anger and conflict you may be holding within
Prayer
Eliminating clutter in your life
Wearing a protection amulet
Meditation
Smudging
Pouring salt around your house
So much for crosses and garlic!
Whether you are dealing with someone high maintenance, needy or a psychic vampire, you just need to always be mindful, aware and fully present.
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