different kinds of dreams.

It seems I’ve switched to a morning format for my weekend  posts and this morning the girls ARE in the bed probably against their better judgement as I’ve been waking in the night suffering the worst of this cold.

I think last night’s dreams were worth mentioning here because they were the kinds of dreams that you want to wake up and remember, not let roll off quickly before you can grasp them.

Last night I had dreams of swimming.  Which is a bit odd for me because I’m not a big swimmer.  But I was standing on the edge of a beach about to enter a competition.  Apparently it was one of three competitions (of which I dreamed of two) and there were only about ten people competing.  Though I guess it’s kind of pointless to say competing because as I spoke with my fellow competitors on the beach, we were all just hoping to finish and in addition felt a deep affection for one another for doing this together).  So there I was on a beautiful stretch of land getting ready to swim my heart out (and thinking why am I doing this, I don’t swim) and I was excited, bursting actually with excitement.  When the race started it seemed it was an odd sort of race that involved diving, then swimming in shallow waters and then climbing up and over rocks and then swimming again to get to the other side and back.  I have never seen this, but ok, it’s a dream.  The second leg of the race was on a different beach and this time it was evening.  I was standing in a hotel room and there were giant rock formations that the setting sun was throwing in silhouette along the beach (thinking now they reminded me of the rocks at Bay of Fundy, a must see if I do say so, if you’re ever in Atlantic Canada)

 image ohmycanada

I decided I needed to go photograph them while the light was just right so I headed out to walk down the beach with my camera.  As I walked down the beach trying to find a good shot there was suddenly someone beside me and I turned to them and pointed across to the left where there was a string of bright neon signs and fast food joints and said “see this, this is what is ruining things” and then I pointed across back to my Fundy rocks and the setting sun and the ocean and said “and this is what we are trying to save”.  And that is where I woke up.

In the way all dreams are this one didn’t make much sense.  The fact I went straight to my grandparents home from the first race or that there were a string of fast food joints across from my Fundy beach.  What was amazing about this dream was that all of the most important aspects of my life were all contained in this dream and in this dream itself I was so uniquely happy.

I was doing something I loved which was pushing myself and my body to become stronger and healthier.  I was on a beach next to an amazing ocean in both parts of the dream.  I had both Ed and my family there with me surrounding me in both parts and I was imparting to someone younger than myself the importance of staying away from that which is fake and unnatural for what is already whole and complete.

It may not mean much here looking at it on the screen, but it made an impact on me this morning.  I awoke with a smile and a feeling like if nothing else this dream was telling me I am on the right path.

movement.

it’s 9:00 pm.  the house is dark and quiet.  i have turned off the lights and shut my door.  the girls are in bed.  if i strain i can hear Jim Dale’s voice coming from their room reading them another in the series of Harry Potter on CD.

it’s spring (it feels like summer) but it’s spring and i’m ready to get moving again.  the girls and i walked a mile tonight after dinner just before dusk, but it  left me wanting a little more.

so i closed the door, put my Peter Davidson channel on Pandora and stuck my legs up the wall.  i never know where my yoga practice is going to go in the evenings.  i know there are certain series of poses i can do.  i used to wake up everyday and do sun salutations and close the evening with a relaxation series.  for awhile i followed this weekly schedule diligently.  now, i find though i just want to listen to my body and this is the way i start.  maybe it’s because my first yoga teacher always started us off with legs on the wall.  after a long day of work, rushing to feed the kids and jumping in the car to class, this was the perfect way to start, and so i still do.

and then i just let my body tell me what it wants and i just enjoy the quiet time listening and moving.  i’ve enjoyed good bouts of cardio many, many times.  it helped me lose 25 pounds last year, but my favorite thing in the world is the slow movements of a good yoga practice that put you in tune with feeling the muscles of your body working.

right now i’m putting special focus on my shoulders.  i had my first massage two weeks ago and the therapist was appalled at my upper back and shoulders.  apparently i haven’t just been carrying my tension there, it’s moved in and tried to make a permanent home.  in all the chaos that is my life, i was prepared to beg her to just let me take a nap on the warm table with the dim lights and the twinkly music, but alas, she knew there was work to be done.

now this past week i’ve been watching my shoulders like a hawk and  i’ve found at ALL points through the day they rest somewhere right beside my ears. so i’ve been doing this little twitchy movement each day, all day, as i recognize my creeping shoulders and force shrug them back down.

so they’re getting  a little special attention right now.

the last part of my practice is always the same too, savasana, oh sweet savasana.  looks so easy.  so not.  but so worth it.  in class we started by tightening every bit of our body and slowly letting it go.  have you ever tried to relax your cheeks?  let your eyes sink into the back of your head?  but it works and anyone who is doing yoga practice, please enlighten me as to how many times you’ve actually fallen asleep in this pose.  maybe it’s the fact i do it at night in the dark and i’m always tired, but it’s a common occurrence.

i wrote this whole post in my head as i worked tonight, but somehow sitting here now on the floor with the screen in front of me the beauty of the words i had then have left me. i’ve resolved to post the thoughts that are in my mind most evenings.  some nights as with this night, perhaps it will just be a diatribe about yoga.  oh well, some of you will get it.

it was a long winter this year.  in a way i fell off my path during those long months.

but i feel it coming back and each time i wonder, why has it fallen away.  this is such a wonderful part of my life.

i love my practice, but i’m missing yoga classes.  there’s so much more i want to learn.  no time to fit it into my schedule right now.  so it sits with the tai chi classes and the mountain climbing classes that line up behind it on the wish list.  let’s not talk either about the whole catalog of knowledge that could come from the kripalu or omega catalogs that have made their way to the mailbox the last couple weeks.

in the meantime i’ll just keep moving.

still waiting.

why does it seem that spring is so reluctant to make  her entrance this year?

easter is late and just two weeks away.  most of the earth here is still brown, the days still damp and chilly.

i long for warmth and color.

spring seems perched on the edge, just peeking around the corner, making me wait.

i myself perched and ready.

ready to jump, but not quite there.

there are climbing lessons, i haven’t dared to officially sign up for, scared my time won’t come through.

there are photos, to be reproduced, ideas floating in my head to be sold.

there is a book in progress, waiting for me to sit down and add another 3,o00 words to what is there.

there is a man, right now in Tennessee, who feels like family, but who is just out of my reach.

sometimes the waiting is the hardest part, when you feel greatness around the corner.

in time.  time is a teacher.

telling me, this is a path, but one with a direction.

giving me just a taste to hold on to, and keeps me thinking forward.

Processing

I’m still trying to take it all in.  It might be a bit before I have the words.  How wonderful it was to travel.  How amazing it was to be carefree, to rest, to relax into a slow pace.   How easy it was to be with him.  How beautiful it was there.  How much deeper things have gone.   How much I think I learned about myself and my life in just five days.  Each of these is a post in itself.  I’m sure it will be coming.

roller coaster ride.

{looking forward to some reading during flight time}

It’s been a bit of a roller coaster ride this week, physically and mentally. Daily life has been busy, two of the three of us have been plagued by mysterious stomach ailments and then there is the trip, and on top still fighting off the cold.

Thursday I leave for Colorado.  It’s a trip I’ve been counting down since the day he left in December.  85 days ago.  It seemed then an unbearable amount of time to go without seeing each other.  A very depressing amount of time.  Difficult to lose someone for twenty years, find them for eleven days and then they are gone again.  But somehow we’ve made it and 48 hours from now, I will be there.

I am excited.  Beyond excited.  Excited to have this time to spend with him.  Excited to have this time for us to be alone.  Excited that I will actually have four full days without the responsibilities of work, motherhood, household.

But right now I am tired.  Tired.  Tired from the responsibilities of work, motherhood and household.  Tired from preparing myself and my home for this trip.  Tired from worrying about whether the girls will be okay, thinking what if something goes wrong with them or with myself.  And so today I have asked him, only half-jokingly, if it is okay if I just sleep curled up next to him for the first 24 hours.

The girls seem fine, quite excited actually that Grandmom (my mother) is coming to stay for five days.  My mother is quite content that everything will be fine, but I have NEVER been away from these girls.  This is the mother who agonized over the divorce and not being there to watch over on Wednesday nights and Saturdays.  So for me, there is a bit of stress over leaving them at home.  (I won’t go into the letters I’ve written them in case something should happen to me).

But again, part of this journey is about me.  About me finding myself, my happiness and part of my happiness right now lies in Colorado.  Part of my journey is about seeing where this road is leading, and some of that needs to be explored between the two of us.

So right now feels like a roller coaster.  And in two more days, I imagine it’s going to feel a bit like bliss.

And then I’ll be home and we’ll start the countdown again.

blessed.

{these beautiful gifts from my daughters, are all the gifts i need}

Yesterday was one of those days I realize how lucky I am.  I am surrounded by so many people who love and appreciate me for who I am.  It was my birthday yesterday, two cakes over the course of two days at work, the one I posted yesterday was a three-layer chocolate cake my friend Karen made and then one of our members at the credit union brought another, a citrus-y yellow cake I’ll share tonight.  Everyone at work made my day special.  A couple of our members sang  ”happy birthday”, including a duet by 70 somethings Mr. and Mrs. Rice.  One of our members, one of the firefighters, offered to dance for me.  I politely declined.  I love these people who surround me everyday Monday-Friday.  Somedays, like most everyone else, it is hard to get up and get out the door, but really, these people that I work with and serve are delightful.  I have had a lot of jobs, but by far this is the best one yet.

Facebook messages went on for pages, a card from my best friend, a card and delightful gift from Lisa and then on my birthday, a card from Debbie all the way from England and it arrived ON my birthday, I look forward to a new project with her in May.  Ed’s card arrived in the afternoon, certain to make me cry.  Tonight the celebration continues, McKinney style at my Mom’s, which means, taco salad fixings and Coronas with limes spread out  across the tables, our standby meal for when we all get together.  My sister and brother both there, along with my grandparents, and my brother’s friends.  This will be a joint party as it has been pretty much off and on for the last twenty-four years, when my brother came along fifteen years and five days behind me.  I love to share birthdays with him.

In the past I knew I shared my birthday with my cousin’s ex-husband and my really scary middle-school English teacher, but found out last night I also share my birthday with that amazing force called Queen Latifah, love her and all her beautiful energy and drive, her celebration and success at doing things her own way and succeeding. Have always loved her not more so when she starred in one of my favorite books ever, turned movie.

Last night the girls made their appearance finally in the school variety show.  I love the girl’s school, it’s principal, it’s teachers, their enthusiasm and dedication, I could not buy an experience any better for them.  Weeks and weeks of practice three times a week paid off as their performance was flawless, though it didn’t matter as all those children standing on stage, in elementary school, putting their growing talents out  for all to see, wowed me in a way that reminds me to have courage.  There was no lack of support as the entire family turned out, the girls applauded and hugged and kissed by not only both their parents, but their full load of grandparents and great-grandparents as well.

I hugged the girls, commended their friends, talked with other parents, my own family and walked out into a balmy evening with no coat, going home finally to a glass of wine and  the last conversation with Ed on the phone, him being here the only thing that could have made the day any better.  In five days I will finally step on the plane and celebrate another birthday, his, with him.

I am blessed.  Beyond measure.  I keep reaching outside myself to find greatness when all I have to do is look around me and see that it all lies right here in a life so full and rich, who could ask for more.  Or as Queen Latifah says in that favorite movie, “there’s love all around you, don’t ever be afraid, WE are enough”.

39.

 

the last year of my thirties begins today.

 

a different kind of spring fever.

{the girls picking cherries, at the old house, right before we moved}

(ages four and six)

The sun is shining today.  I am ouside with no coat.  As I walk out the door at the VA hospital on errands for work, I swear for just two seconds I can smell Spring and so look up and see that there are not only buds on the massive trees  lining the buildings, but actual baby leaves starting to burst forth.

Spring is coming.  There is something special about this time when Spring comes and the green starts pushing it’s way back into the world.  It feels like hope and renewal.  It feels like a fresh start, but still, each Spring  as the weather warms and we look to spend more time outside, I realize there are things I am missing.

There used to be a time when Spring came and I was a married woman and we would make our bi-annual trips to the nurseries.  You see there was a time when we were happy and when we did things together.  My old husband at one time was a very hard worker.  He would work sixty plus hours a week at the restaurant and then come home and Sundays we would plot the outside.

We were newly married.  We didn’t have kids yet.  So we would wake up to the sunshine.  The windows would be open, a breeze would blow through.  We would find ourselves starting the morning with HGTV and This Old House and then we would start plotting on graph papers, hoppimg in the car to buy plants, working side by side out in the yard pulling out scrub, putting in new soil, depositng new plants with all the hopes that they would flourish as we hoped to.  Roses, hydrangeas, butterfly bushes, succulents, berry plants. This wasn’t work, this just was.  We would work outside until it would threaten to get dark, then fire up the grill.  I would run inside, rinse the muck off, start a few things and we would sit out on the porch and eat.   Then go inside to shower and crash for the evening, maybe running back out in the dusk to put a few things away, perhaps I would find him, tooling out in his shed after the day had closed.

Even right after Emily was born, she would go out with us, bobbing up and down in one of those exercise saucers as we raked leaves, sitting on a blanket chewing on a pumpkin as we mixed in fall chrysanthemums or some clearance end of summer perennials bought on the cheap.

In time all that changed.  As his back broke, our relationship did as well.  The yard and our life fell to ruin.

Today I have a new home, leaving all of that hard work and ruin behind and I would have free reign to do it all again here.  But I don’t ever turn on HGTV anymore. I have no passion to work in the garden.  It’s just there  is never enough time, enough money or enough energy.  I’m barely fitting it all in now, the daily requirements, figuring how to factor in the budget summer camp and karate lessons, energy being at an all time low.

These days I kill all the plants I try to nurture. There may be a few strawberry plants eeking out a life under the winter’s weeds behind the garage.  The herbs I planted in pots on the porch last year suffered neglect and finally gave up.  I miss having a partner in these ways. There are things that I miss about being part of a pair.  I miss lazy mornings and my Better Homes and Gardens landscaping books.  I miss scoping out last minute end of summer perennials. I miss the satisfaction of bringing color and beauty to my surroundings. More than anything I miss late evening dinners out on the porch with someone I love, dirt still in my fingerprints.

Life marches on.

singing loudly and badly.

i have no photos for this post.

be thankful.

a lot of times i lament on being alone.

sometimes it’s not such a bad thing.

right now i am sitting in a hot bath bookmarking every blog i’ve ever been interested in on my laptop.

i’m drinking a mocha frappuccino.

and i’m singing an old song very loudly and badly, with no backup music.

and no one is here to raise an eyebrow.

did i mention i had a bag of potato chips for dinner?

when you are home alone, no one cares how quirky you are.

and the kids aren’t home for another hour.

perfection.

{i have been playing a lot with words lately}

I had a bit of a meltdown last Thursday.  I had been sick and worn down.  Dotoomuchitis and bugbityouitis.  I have a problem, I want everything to be perfect.    I am a failed perfectionist.

I have tried to let go a little this past week and let myself just be.  Some days have been easier than others.  Tonight, I happened across an article in an old Yoga Journal entitled, “Making Peace With Perfection” and it was this line from the article that stood out to me:

“In Sanskrit, one of the words for perfection is purna, usually translated as fullness or wholeness”.

So now I am wondering, if I strive to define perfectionism as feeling full or whole, will that bring me closer to feeling peaceful with myself ?  If I don’t define perfection as everything being in it’s proper place, the undone sitting, whispering, failure, failure, failure to me every night will that bring me closer to feeling whole or well?

Perhaps.

Perhaps perfectionism is finding a balance between the work that needs to be done physically and the work that needs to be done mentally.  I do have enough sense to know that life should be about balance.

I don’t have enough sense to pay attention to my body before it gives me a swift kick in the ass.

In my ever ongoing  journey to balance my life I have come up with a new plan.  I am giving myself half a day Saturday and Sunday to do the need to’s.    The rest of the day is my time with no expectations to DO anything. No chores on weeknights, dinner, homework, a possible workout, and a chat with my honey is enough.

And I’ve made a pact to not go to bed later than 10:30 on a weeknight.  I’m getting better at it and mornings have been slightly more peaceful.

I’m still working on the perfectionism thing though.  And really I would like to throw the word out the window and away from my vocabulary.

Fullness and wholeness though.

That has a nice ring to it.

I think when I reach those rare moments when I feel that way I will just block my sight from everything else and sink in.  Because how often do we take the time in a blissful moment to stop and say, “this is perfection”.

Maybe that’s the answer.  Finding your bliss.

Or maybe I’ll just let go of the whole thing and just stop thinking.

That’s probably the best option of all.