Yogaaahhhhh....Understanding the Difference Between A Sprint and a Marathon

Randy, what is this strange and wonderful thing you call "pacing?"














First let me say THANK YOU to all who have posted comments on my crabfest post yesterday.

Let me tell you what I learned today.

SELF CARE IS NOT AN OPTION. IT IS A NECESSITY.

I heard a woman say at a conference a while back that the world is a safer place when she takes care of herself.

Amen, sister.

So, a couple weeks ago today I was all hyped up on Ki energy and ready to be available in any way that I could or would have to be or thought I would have to be for my father. And, with a nod to my own desire to be sane in the process I packed my tea, my incense, my meditation CDs. I was going to do this right...balanced...well-paced.

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA

You already saw the tub, so you have to know that I had serious plans to get that house clean.

My dad is a wonderful man in many ways. He even made sure that I was going to be well stocked on snacks in his absence. Yeah, okay, maybe he never knew that I really don't like flavored potato chips, but I knew this was really just love in a bag.









It's just that a duster he is not.

And he has selective vision where cobwebs are concerned.




















But, luckily, he is a bit of a compulsive shopper when he sees things on sale so he was WELL stocked with cleaning and dusting supplies. Just waiting for the right woman to come along and use 'em, I guess.

The irony is as I pulled up to his house, my CD player was blasting out Neil Young's A Man Needs A Maid.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Now, the problem is (Randy), that I don't have an off switch (Randy). So, the next thing you know I am washing vertical blinds, restaining kitchen cabinets (which, of course, were emptied of all contents because some little house guests had gotten in there and I understand that mice need to live somewhere, but not in the kitchen, although unused CD binders do make handy storage bins for bird seed, I discovered.) And the next thing you know, 6 am turns in to 10 pm or midnight or 1 am.

And White Castles microwaveable burgers aren't half bad the first 3 times you have them, though I did miss the little pickles...

Luckily, to make sure my momentum never sagged, Penny (pictured above) and her pal Angel, a shepherd mix, who were my companions on the 35 year old water bed mattress (baffles? we don't need no stinking baffles!) made sure to get up at 4:30 every morning just like dad said they would.

And, since everyone knows dad is an EARLY riser, everyone knows it is okay to call at 6 am and any time after.

And this man has a LOT of friends, for a Mr. Miyagi hermit type of guy.

A LOT. And they check on his ALL THE TIME. (THANK GOD!!). And they checked in on me, too. (Very cool.)

Well, in between restaining the panelling down the hall, unclogging drains, sitting in a tub with my foot anchoring a piece of Saran Wrap over the drain that wouldn't stay shut (cruel irony there, the only drain that wouldn't plug) because I was determined to have a hot bath at least once that week and cleaning the freezer out, I never did get around to that cup of tea, not a single one...or the yoga or meditation.

The closest I came was eating a Wendy's chicken Caesar salad in my car on a frigid afternoon watching the seagulls windsurf and realizing that even though it was about 3 pm I would have been too tired to drive back to Chicago even if I could have gone home at that point.

And that was before the drive back to O'Hare, followed by a trip to Michigan the day after, and the trip to Indiana that evening and making a turkey dinner with my sister and then heading back to my home and back to O'Hare the next morning.

So, I was in yoga today and we were rubbing our knees saying "I love my knees" and I thought about all I put my body through last week for countless hours of hands and knees scrubbing and hauling stuff here and there and barely sleeping and never once did I thank my knees, or my bruised shins, or my bruised forearms, or my stomach for putting up with those White Castles.

Is it any wonder I was a crank yesterday?

Yes, I do believe most of what I did needed to be done. Yes, I am very glad that I did it. Yes, my father is also very glad to have this stuff done. Yes, you do want me to help you if you ever have serious cleaning to do. Just make sure I have music, that's all I ask. Especially jazz...lots and lots of jazz...

And, yes, my mother is waiting in the wings with more of the same.

But I haven't been as tired as I am this week since my hysterectomy 4 years ago and this is all self-imposed.

Important, appreciated, but self-imposed and simply too much.

So, they say relapse is part of recovery. That old camel of mine is still alive and well, I fear. If this is just the start of how my parents are going to age and need things in the years ahead, it would appear that I have some work to do.

There is a difference between a sprint and a marathon.



Laura Young is a personal development and business To learn more about her, visit Wellspring Coaching. You are welcome to share articles from this blog provided that you keep this full attribution attached to content. Thanks!

Marriage and Sexuality Mentor, The Conclusion

For those who lit candles for me, I thank you! My call to mentorship went surprisingly well. (Hit the link for the backstory if you just landed here. I had to get interviewed by a friend's daughter for a school paper.)

I spent several days just clueless about what I was going to say. Scott tried to help as best he could. "Just say pre-marital sex should only happen if you are engaged." He was trying to find a compromise to keep me from alienating our Catholic friends without turning me into a complete and utter hypocrite.

I just can't fake it, though. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to say, or what I really believed, but I knew it wasn't that.

So, with 1/2 hour to go...then 15 minutes to go...then, crap, she's early!...I had no idea what I was going to say.

So, I said what I felt.

"You know this is weird for me, right?"

"Me, too!"

Ah, who says you can't find common ground with a teenager!

"A lot of the kids in my class said they are just going to make stuff up. (I'd love to read some of THOSE papers!) We can talk about something else. We can just skip the sex stuff."

"No. This is your assignment and you told me at Christmas that you appreciated that I have never spoken to you like a child and I'm certainly not going to start now. I just want don't want to give you too much "creep factor"."

"Creep factor?!", She laughs.

"You probably don't want to spend a lot of time thinking about people with grey hair having sex, right? So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, I know all the technical stuff." She giggles a little and rolls her eyes. "Let me see the questions." She refers to her paper..."What do you think about pre-marital sex."

As it turns out, she and I think the same. Stay a virgin until you marry at age 28 or 30? Not so realistic. And besides, first experiences just aren't that fun for females...darn painful as a matter of fact. Who needs THAT on a wedding night? Jumping into a lot a casual encounters in broom closets at parties? Not recommended. Having a few relationship skills under your belt (no pun intended) before you sleep with someone? Definitely. Friendship, respect, feeling safe, having trust in your partner first? Definitely requirements. Having more than one partner in your life? Yep. Or else you might always be wondering. Just be safe and have all the other pre-requisite stuff in place where the relationship is concerned.

"What about living together?"

Definitely fine with that. Make sure you live with yourself first at some point. You have to know yourself and be an individual before you can be a good partner. I lived by myself AFTER I was already married to my first husband, when I went to grad school. That was a heck of a time to find out that we were polar opposites in almost every way. And later marrying someone who is a very fully formed individual with buckets of energy, I would have been completely swept away in the tidal wave of Scott's energy EVEN THOUGH WE ARE AMAZINGLY IN SYNC. If I didn't know myself as well as I do, I wouldn't have been able to tell whether Scott and I were in sync or whether he was just driving the bus and I was along for the ride.

"Oh, Scott", she laughed and shook her head. "You guys are perfect for each other. But I can see what you mean. He's crazy." (and she meant that in the best possible way).

I shared a little with her about where I went right and where I went wrong in my own relationship experiments (tastefully edited to avoid TMI creepiness) and we talked about how my views were likely going to be different than a lot of folks her Catholic school classmates were going to be interviewing because sex was never about procreation for me (due to ferility issues).

She commented on how she sees not having kids has been good for Scott and I since we can really be together and that, as it turns out we didn't need kids because we have her and her brother. That did warm my heart.

We talked about good marriages and bad and about all the ways we see that people can do their relationships and that there doesn't seem to be a 'one size fits all' recipe for a successful relationship. And that there really isn't any way to stop Scott from being Scott, so we just have to love him and keep him off the streets as much as possible.

And then we talked about college and how her mom is driving her crazy with her impending empty nest issues and about the angst of high school relationships and being goal driven and learning how to control a very sharp teenaged tongue...a subject I know a thing or two about.

It was just cool.

So now you've had THE TALK,

she said to me as we wound down three hours later.

One more milestone.

She was right, you know, that having her and her brother has taken the place, in some ways, of my having my own children. I know that there are always going to be those times, and those subjects, that kids just won't talk to their parents about, simply because they are their parents. I have always taken my role as non-parental adult very seriously. I understand that kids need strong adults in their lives, not just for school assignments but for all that other stuff that happens along the way. It's really a beautiful place to be. Anyone who is missing an opportunity to show up as a light on the path of a young person is missing out.

Here's to the journey...

Laura Young is a personal development and business coach and collaborator for hire. A contributing author to A Guide to Getting It: Purpose and Passion and Become Your Own Great and Powerful: A Woman's Guide to Leading a Real, Big Life , she has recently been interviewed on By, For and About Women and Artist First Radio.To learn more about her, visit Wellspring Coaching. You are welcome to share articles from this blog provided that you keep this full attribution attached to content. Thanks!

Marriage and Sexuality Mentor?!

Dear God, my life just gets crazier and crazier.

You remember Monique, of Christmas Village fame? The one I've known since she was 4 or 5? The one that I helped with college applications recently? The one who borrows my clothes sometimes and books for her classes? The one who is almost all grown up now and has let me have some of the vicarious thrill of watching her do just that by sharing these milestones with me? Seems we have another one...

I thought I dodged this bullet not having kids of my own but it appears she needs help with a school paper and she wants to interview me.

The topic?

Marriage and Sexuality.

GULP.

She dropped off the questions today.

She'll want to know my views on premarital sex and what I think is the appropriate way for young people to show each other affection!!!!

I never had to think about this! Not in the "what would you say to your daughter" kind of a way. Let alone, what would you say to someone else's daughter. I mean, it may have helped me to think a little about it when I was a young person myself, but who does that?!

Oh, dear God, I know her mother. I've hiked Zion with her grandmother. They are Catholic. CATHOLIC.

I'm so screwed. I mean, what DO I think at this point? What do I THINK I should say? And what do I think is realistic.

I just keep laughing. There's got to be some karma in here somewhere...

She'll want to know about living together, and the role of sex in marriage, advice for young people about marriage...all that kind of thing. What makes a good marriage.

Some of that is easy, and I will admit that I am honored that she sees me as a mentor and she has said that she values that I've never talked to her like she was a kid. But, I mean, I wasn't anticipating this conversation.

Light a candle for me.

dancing by Maya Stein

For those of you who haven't discovered 10-line Tuesdays. I LOVE the one I received today:


dancing

You, with the dark hat on, the coat, the collar turned up,
trying to blend in like nobody's business, like background noise,
like an act of disappearance, like who could possibly be watching -
that quiet spill you took on the ice that turned your ankle,
and that move you made just afterward, the silent recoil,
the anywhere-but-here wince that gave you just enough
to stand back up and leave the rink alone and vow not to return -
let me tell you something.

I love how you fell, untidy and artless and so far from perfect, your body
one long misbehaviour. Even from this distance, you were dancing.

--Maya Stein
Laura Young is a personal development and business coach and collaborator for hire. A contributing author to A Guide to Getting It: Purpose and Passion and Become Your Own Great and Powerful: A Woman's Guide to Leading a Real, Big Life , she has recently been interviewed on By, For and About Women and Artist First Radio.To learn more about her, visit Wellspring Coaching. You are welcome to share articles from this blog provided that you keep this full attribution attached to content. Thanks!

A Child Learns About Gravity Or Can We Give Away my Baby Brother?

This happened around the time my younger brother was born ...the only son...and perhaps I was feeling a bit displaced. Don't get me wrong, I'm not nursing any wounds. In fact, I'm quite sure my parents and my then mewling and puking little brother love me...and I'm sure no one would remember this incident but me...but I remember it...oh, yes...I remember...

See Laura. Grimy from a day of hunting frogs and burying dead fish along the shores of the mighty Calumet that bordered our yard.

See Laura's parents all content and cuddly watching TV, having just laid Jason in his crib with fresh dry diapies in a perfect cloud of baby powder.

Feel the confusion and wonting swell up with the grimy little seven year old.

See Laura, suddenly overcome with the desire to be cuddled by her parents, run, leap and launch herself with reckless...ah, there's the rub...too reckless...abandon, aiming to land snuggly between said parents who were surely waiting to completely envelope her in their overwhelming love for her.

Picture a 7 year old, hurling through space, happy and vulnerable and...CRASHING into her parents.

"OOWWW!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

they yell in surprise and pain as they reflexively push her away.

It was a small thing, really.
A moment in space and time.
One body crashing in to two others.
That's the way it is with gravity, you know. Children don't always have mastery of it.
Sometimes they think they can fly.
Pity how it is with children...grounded by gravity, but alas, not by reality.

Picture mortified child seeing angered faces yelling in surprise and pushing her away when she was so sure that they loved her and would love nothing more than to smother her with affection.

She knows she has no choice.

She simply must run away.

This, of course, means sitting among the ashes, as all sinners must...ours being located on the front step next to the metal box where the milkman left his deliveries.

"I'm running away!",

she declared (which, of course, was code for "Please come out and talk to me and tell me that you love me.")

Well, every good parent knows not to give in to the "I'm running away!" maneuver. You don't want to feed in to THAT kind of manipulation or you'll wind up with a child who at the age of 30 continues to live in your basement watching television and eating Ding Dongs...the spoils of a war waged through the fine art of emotional blackmail..

So, there she sat...

and sat.

For a child's eternity she sat while her parents watched Laugh-In. They were laughing together at Arte Johnson and Ruth Buzzy.

Or were they laughing at her?

Sitting...sitting...on the front step.

Did they know she was out here? She said she was running away!

Waiting...

waiting...

no one comes.

Light fades...soon she hears the high screeches of the vampires her father assures her live under the shed...eeeekkkk....eeeeeekkkk....She could picture them coming out of their little coffins...roughly 10 inches tall, in black tuxedos and red cumberbunds...She shifts on the stoop, eye fixed on the small metal shed.

Perhaps she will teach them a lesson tomorrow.

Oh, yes. Their pain will be more acute in the cold hard light of day.

Satisfied with her new plan she quickly runs in to the house, legs wobbly and numb from the cold hard slab on which she sat, lo those many minutes. Diving into bed, she flings the covers over her head, careful not to let her feet or hands dangle over the sides. Rolypoly-like, perfect ball of childish flesh, she soothes herself to sleep with visions of her parents, repenting their transgressions and realizing that they already had the best child they could hope for.

After much consideration, they decide to give her brother to the neighbors, the Buckners, who didn't have any good kids yet and could probably use one.

Olive Oil Cake Recipe

This comes from a reader. I haven't made this yet but she says it is amazing and I get the vibe that it is. I'm in the process of doing some clean up of old posts that were in the cue, so this may be a hodge podge day. The good news is, I am doing this to cull the wheat from the chaff and will be launching separate blogs so you can find what you want more easily and not have to deal with my multiple personalities quite so much!

Olive Oil Cake

Vegetable oil for brushing pan
1 cup all purpose flour
½ tsp. salt
5 large eggs, separated, plus 2 large egg whites
¾ cups sugar
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon zest
1/3 cup Gewurztaminer (Or similar sweet white wine)
½ cup DaVero Meyer-lemon olive oil (available at www.davero.com)
1 pint fresh berries (blackberries, blueberries, raspberries)
2 to 4 Tbsp.confectioners sugar

1. Preheat oven to 325 Brush a 9 inch springform pan with vegetable oil, line bottom with parchment paper.

2. Combine flour and salt in medium pan and set aside. In large bowl, beat 5 egg yolks and sugar at medium-high speed about 2 to 3 minutes until it is light yellow and ribbons form when beaters are lifted. Add flour mixture to egg mixture and beat on medium-low until well blended. Beat in lemon zest. In a small bowl, combine wine and olive oil; gradually pour into large bowl in a thin steady stream, beating until thoroughly combined. Set aside.

3. In a clean mixing bowl beat 7 egg whites until stiff (not dry) peaks form. Gently fold 1/3 of whites into batter with rubber spatula, then fold in remaining whites just until combined.

4. Pour batter in prepared pan. Bake 45 – 50 minutes until cake springs back when gently touched and toothpick inserted into center comes out clean. Remove pan from oven and cool on wire rack. Run a long, thin knive around edge of pan, and detach ring.

5. Pulse berries and confectioners sugar in blender until smooth about 30 seconds. Top care with puree and Fresh berries.

6. (I skip this part and just serve with whole berries)

Lovely Words from Kate on Surrender, Collapsing and Grief

If you haven't been to the comments section recently I wanted to reprint a portion of a beautiful comment from Kate in response to the Surrender and Collapsing post a few days ago.

When I am fully present, both awake and aware, then 'surrender' is not so much a decision as it is a relaxation...an exhalation.The same works for me with pain. Grief at the loss of someone I love is not something I would seek to avoid. Whether I am spiritually conscious or not affects the grief (as well as my growth/evolution) but can't make it inappropriate...Again, it's about being present for the grief, learning all I can from it, and filling up with it so that it satisfies its own need to be expressed and gets finished. In the moment.

Also, note for Feedblitz subscribers: There are likely links embedded in a number of posts that you won't get via e-mail, so if some posts leave you wanting more context, you may want to visit the original post (also gives you access to comments).

Don't forget to stop by my newest blog as my book unfolds...http://karmicmom.blogspot.com/

I'll be setting up a subscription link on this site shortly so you can get new pages delivered to you. Simply start with the earliest post and work forward to follow the The Amazing Adventures of Little Butterfly as the story unfolds.

See you there!

Wellspring Coaching. You are welcome to share articles from this blog provided that you keep this full attribution attached to content. Thanks!

On the difference between surrendering to and collapsing under

Erin had asked me to elaborate on this distinction I had made in a prior post. This is a tricky one to articulate but I'll do my best. Let me know if this makes sense to you...

The best way I can explain this is by example, I think. For those of you needing context, check out the Anticipatory Grief Observed series in the sidebar.

I had an occassion with Michael that really brought this home to me. We were doing something very benign (not dissecting my various neuroses), just writing some website copy or coming up with speech titles or something and we were talking about what wording to use and there was a point that I looked up from the computer at him and it just BAM hit me how much I adore him and that I won't have him here forever. VERY similar to the experience I had with Scott. The difference is that Scott is healthy and so the potential loss of him was more abstract and could be 50 years from now. With Michael, his ephemeral nature is far more real.

So, I collapsed under that realization of how much I love him. And the rest is history as you all read in my grief series. I didn't know how to keep my heart open to him knowing that I could lose him at any time. The more I could see of the challenges he faces just to get out of his house everyday the more overwhelmed I became with my desire to help. Some of it was wanting to help him for the sake of helping him and some of it was helping him for the sake of wanting him to want to live for a long long time still so I wouldn't have the pain of missing him. I didn't know how to relate to Michael the living AND Michael the dying all at the same time. I collapsed under the reality of it all and my realization of how precious he has been (and still is) in my life.

Surrendering to, which is where I am now (STRONGLY aided by my Dahn Yoga practice), is an entirely different place. I don't know what the future holds (nor do you). This could be the last day for any one of us. Trying to work harder to force more life into the cup, or to prolong it or enhance it or control it...that just doesn't work. Surrendering to is about getting to that place that is able to say, truly, from the heart, "Yes, either one of us could lose the other at any time. And here we are. Let me just show up in this space of not knowing the future, fully present with my heart fully open and co-exist with the not knowing."

It may sound like old hippie speak, but I'm very serious about this.

I have been BLESSED beyond belief that Michael has encouraged me (even insisted) that I talk about the writhing of my mind as I come to terms with the thought of losing him. When I was in the collapsing space I wasn't talking about it as much as I was trying to fix it or influence it in some way. I was going head to head with fate, or God, or whatever it was trying to will it to be different. Anyone who has ever thought that with just a little more love, it/he/she would be changed/saved/spared knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Michael let me burn out my neurosis by encouraging me to keep lancing the grief boil until all the infection was out. Pretty image, I know...just as pretty as it felt. So, now I still cry sometimes, because I still don't want to think that there will be a last time I see him but I'm co-existing with the feelings and I've uncoupled myself from them in some way. It's no longer a question of whether or not I can "do this". I'm in. All the way. There's a still place inside where it's okay...underneath the tears a part of me is just able to know that our relationship is not bound by our physical forms. I just know it.

The reality is that when he goes it will be because his life, his magnificent, miraculous, awe-inspiring life has reached it's completion and his work is done. How could I not be proud, and joyful and grateful for spending so much of my own time here with him and celebrating the end of a life VERY VERY well lived? It doesn't mean I won't grieve, or accidentally pick up my phone a million times to call him but it does mean that my love and my ability to surrender to it is far, far bigger than my fear and grief.

If you haven't met Mike yet and want to learn more about his life, which truly is inspirational, check out his book, Don't Blame the Game which details his 30 year journey with quadriplegia.

Happy Birthday, Michael!

Wellspring Coaching. You are welcome to share articles from this blog provided that you keep this full attribution attached to content. Thanks!

Unconditional Love of Self Comes First

I received a very thoughtful e-mail recently in response to my earlier post on my thoughts for the coming year and my ongoing theme of exploring unconditional love. I'd like to share some with you here:

Don't you think unconditional love of yourself comes
first? I don't mean the kind that accepts yourself as you sit on the
couch as a slug or the kind that accepts yourself treating people rudely.
I mean the kind that stops putting yourself down, the kind that loves and
encourages yourself and treats yourself well, ages gracefully as you take care
of yourself and explores the reaches of your own inner self. The you that
loves to doodle, sing, paint, run, whatever. The you that allows yourself
to do all those things. Not the you that fits into some plastic society.
As I make the choices that are "right" for me, I feel so much
better for myself. They may not match anyone else's and I may not be able
to explain them to anyone else. I just know that when they feel good
inside to me, I am on to something. I will admit I am very into
"self-help" and many other types of motivation. But I believe that we are
being sold so many "Ten Easy" that we start to feel if we don't get it that easy
something must be wrong with us -- everyone else must be getting it. Then
we are worse off then when we started because we didn't get the success we were
looking for and we feel more like a failure -- maybe some botox or shopping or a
new relationship will help -- LOL. But you are
right there are not Ten Easy steps to anything and no one else is really getting
it that easy.
Me personally I have "One Step" but it is not always easy --
"trust what is deep inside you because you always know what is best for you deep
inside if you will listen". The hard part is listening to ourselves.
Some never learn to. The outer influences and books have helped me
to learn to go deeper inside though. I find that if I do not listen to
myself my body creates havoc until I do, it did that even when I was younger and
did not understand that I needed to listen to myself.

Wellspring Coaching. You are welcome to share articles from this blog provided that you keep this full attribution attached to content. Thanks!