ordinary = extraordinary

I've been sitting here for about 15 minutes without coming up with anything to write about.

Today was an ordinary day.
Between appointments, I drove through abosolutely breathtaking countryside, this being the most beautiful time of year here.
It seems like everyone in our little family is doing fine for the moment (I think the fish oil is even starting to show some positive effects on my 5-year-old son.).
The weather was gorgeous for the umpteenth day in a row .
Tomorrow is a holiday, and we have nothing planned.

Meanwhile:
On the Discovery Channel (that my husband turned on), I watch as thousands of people dig through mountains of garbage in dumps looking for something to sell.
At McDonald's today, I stepped back to let a young, very thin girl, no more than 7 or 8, pass by in her wheelchair. Under her summer hat I could see that she had no hair.
In the newspaper, there was an obituary for the father of an aquaintance, less than two weeks after having read an obituary for the same aquaintance's brother, who died at the age of 46 by a sudden heart attack.

Tonight I'll go to bed, after a completely uneventful day, and regard myself as the luckiest person I know.
Om shanti. Peace. Fred.

bloggy inspiration

I have started exploring different blog spheres by clicking on friends' links to new pages with new links, and so on. Naturally I am drawn to blogtitles that are somehow connected to yoga. Right now I have two categories for these bloggers and their entries:

A). They write about how yoga inspires them beyond the physical practice as they, too, struggle to lay all the pieces in their life puzzle together - with varying results depending on the demands of the day.

or:

B). Others choose to dictate how many times they have worked out during a given week and whether or not they could grab their big toe in a forward bend (as always, using only the Sanskrit name).

Not to judge, but admittedly I much prefer reading category A. So much so that this tired, stiff, and stressed yogi actually pulled out her mat at 9 P.M. in her minimal hotel room/linen closet (?) to do her favorite Candlelight Yoga practice before getting into bed - all because of the positive words that were offered by other sister yogis.

Namasté

The opposite of yoga...

...is poker. Yet I couldn't resist the chance to play a free online all-girl tournament. I had quit playing poker a couple of years ago because it wreaked havoc on my bodymind. For starters, I am a terrible loser, always have been - ask anyone! My heartrate increases, I don't even want to imagine what my blood pressure is, and, if you value your life, please do not distract me when I am trying to focus.

Usch - it sounds awful, I know. I apologize. Still there's something to be said about the mental challenge (and the high experienced when your competitors are taken DOWN), and tonight the cards were there for me. See you in the finals next Sunday; I got a free ticket to an 330 Euro online tournament!

Not exactly the path to enlightenment. I wonder where this karma will lead me in my next life?

Release party, part II

I took a walk at dusk. Usually I try to take in everything around me, especially the sounds of birds chirping, my feet rhythmically hitting different surfaces, the gurgling brook I walk along, and my breath.

Today I let the music in my Mp3 drown it all out. And since I heard no footsteps, it was as though the friction between my shoes and the ground disappeared. I was floating, sometimes closing my eyes, completely immersed in my secret world.

Release party, part I

This morning we watched as 80 cows were released, out to the pasture, for the first time this spring. Who knew that huge milking cows could prance about like butterflies? It was quite a sight for the hundreds of us gathered to take part in this natural celebration, and somehow their (the happy cows) joy and enthusiasm connected us all.

Cloud nine

I was exhausted this afternoon. However, that was not going to stop me from doing my yoga today.

I started in child's pose. I stayed there for several minutes, thinking how nice it would be to just stay there throughout my entire session today. But then I don't think I could do that with a clear conscience to my class on Sunday, so I got started, S-L-O-W-L-Y moving in and out of the poses. Today's focus was forward bends, and I did my best to find roots and wings in every position.

Basically it was a good session for my lethargic bodymind since I got to use gravity to my advantage.

Afterwards my hips felt as though they were filled with cotton candy - nice.

A good morning

This morning started perfectly. I woke up on my own in MY bed beside my husband (who was kindly enough not snoring in my ear at the time) and was immediately greeted by my purring four-legged-friend. I got up and managed to sit in a mini-meditation for about ten minutes; then my daughter came out of her room. There's nothing like holding your child close and kissing her on the head when you've been away travelling.

I got to open a new package of my FAVORITE coffee (from Denmark, courtesy of my father-in-law). As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, I walked into my son's room and laid down in his bed. As he pendled between sleeping and waking, I kissed his sweet cherub lips.

Somehow, when everyone was up and in the midst of eating breakfast, my husband and I started to wage in the classic "Here's an idiotic melody that I am going to plant into your brain so that you can't stop thinking about it all day" war. His contribution was Björn Skifs "Hooked On a Feeling". I quickly countered with Right Said Fred's "I'm Too Sexy". My son enjoyed both thoroughly and proceeded to do his famed "monkey-dance" as his partially chewed sandwich fell out of his mouth to the floor.

Finally, under a cloudless sky filled with sunshine, birdsong, and a promise of warm, spring weather, I had the privilege of walking my children to school.

Reminder to self - keep these images close at hand as you begin to work and inevitably embark upon freaking out about the upcoming weeks of chaos.

P.S. Not my fault - it was performed at a cabaret I attended on Wednesday!!

No turning back

I wasn't going to blog about this topic since I didn't want to mistakenly upset any "twentysomething" readers. Please rest assured that my hesitation is a result of my maternal instinct and that the following is in no way meant to sound critical, seeing as how I, too, have been twentysomething.

It's interersting to see glimpses of what lie's inside a crystal ball, in this case provided by Facebook friends' links to blogs, which are linked to other blogs, etc. It's like going into the mirror room at the funhouse; the outlines of these blogs may not necessarily bear an exact resemblance, but often I see the contours of myself reflected in various texts.

Today I read one blog entry written by a girl in her early twenties who's confident, self-assured, nearly to the point of provocation (nothing wrong with that!!), and she was obviously her own #1 fan. Of course the criteria her selfpraise was based purely on her physical features (at least in this particular entry). Cudos to her for at least appreciating and having the guts to be satisfied with her physique, seeing as how that seemed to be her goal. I recall a time (about 20 years and 10(?) kg ago) when my exercise habits quickly turned into a compulsion; at one point, I went to aerobics classes even though I couldn't lift an injured arm/shoulder over my head. And yet despite all my discipline and efforts, I never felt that I was thin enough or lean enough or muscular enough, etc.

In another blog the author (who is a few years my senior) and a number of her readers (myself included) have engaged in discussing the acceptance of our (perceived) shortcomings. It's like at some point we all realize that "this is me, and it ain't gettin' any better than this". But if we could choose (which we can't) what would it be? The quest for the perfect body unbeknownst to us that it's all going to fade in what feels like a heartbeat? Or do we opt for removing the veil that shrouds our vision so that we can see ourselves - completely - on the inside and out?

Like I said, it's not like we have any say in the matter - well, perhaps some people manage to desperately cling onto the past in some feeble attempt to keep anything from changing. As for me the veil is off, and my nose is a ½-inch from the mirror. My reflection mercilessly reveals creases around my eyes, "grudge-lines" across my forehead (getting deeper by the hour), enough chinhairs to make a pre-pubertal boy green with envy, and skin that is slowly starting to sag.

The same reflection is also proof that I've been around the block enough times to genuinely know, in my heart, what matters the most. Still I wouldn't exactly mind it if I just one last time had to show some i.d. in order to buy a bottle of wine... Part of seeing the whole me includes realizing and embracing my vanity because everytime I get hungup on my appearance I am instantly reminded to look at how I am feeling on the inside. And when I realize that my frustration has more to do with how I am feeling on the inside, my experience helps me try to figure what I can do about it. Yin and yang, baby. That and great concealer.

Lifetime guarantee - how long is that?

I've been following Vimmelmamman and her battle with cancer, which oddly enough is pretty much identical to my friend's. Tonight I read about the recent discovery of new tumors and the doctor's decision to cease with her chemotherapy. A death sentence at the age of 40. My heart goes out to her and her husband and young son who is the same age as my son. I understood completely her wishes for her son's future that she will probably not partake in, all the way down to the warm snowsuit and decent winter boots.

I took a walk shortly afterwards (My guilty conscience after our lazy Saturday got the better of me.). I decided to walk through the cemetery since I love the sound of water in the fountains combined with birdsong in the trees. Spring is showing more and more of itself with budding tulips and blossoming daffodils everywhere. I love the peacefulness and tranquility of this place as well as its beauty. It makes me feel like the afterlife can't be that bad; certainly I won't be alone. I thought about where I hope to be buried - the same plot as my mother-in-law, since my husband has already stated his wishes to be buried there. I find it comforting. Comforting and sorrowful at the same time knowing that all this (arms extended in a circular fashion) is non-constant, finite.

I try not to ask myself too often why certain (i.e. bad) things happen to certain (i.e. good) people. I try to accept that there are no guarantees. I hope that I will be spared personal tragedies. I reminded myself as I walked and inhaled the cool, fresh spring air that my life is happening NOW. My life is charmed. The images surrounding me could very well be published on a postcard.

Now it's time to stop taking so much for granted.

Secret

Today the kids were away with friends all afternoon. My husband and I were alone. Absolutely no cleaning or yardwork whatsoever got done. And for dinner (when the kids came home) cold sandwiches comprised of leftovers were served.

Fabulous. Shhhh....

Mad scientist

The following is a comprised list of the ongoing experiments, completely lacking any scientific value, that are presently being carried out in my domestic laboratory.

Experiment 1: Operation aimed at helping me combat incontinence as a result of giving childbirth.
The procedure consisted of having a couple of "stirrups" (stigbyglar) sewn into the backside of my urethra, which gave my bladder a push-up effect. Some girls get boob jobs; others get face lifts. My choice of plastic surgery will hopefully provide ME with the most pleasure :-) . Anyhow the big test was going to Carina's Body Jam class last week, and I am psyched to announce that I made it through the entire class without having to run out to the restroom!

If this is something you are thinking about, I can warmly recommend it!!

Experiment 2: Omega 3 to my oh-so-energetic-5-year-old
Started just yesterday. I bought the expensive brand that is supposed to have the EPA (?) oils that are proven to have a positive effect on children's ability to concetrate. For starters, I am jumpstarting the process by giving my son double the dose that my 10-year-old daughter is getting (all in accordance with the recommended allowances). I figure it's worth a shot...

Experiment 3: Secret Legend Rhodiola Rosea—Arctic Root (Rosenrot) to parents stuck in a zombie-like state.
That would be me and my husband. Despite gorgeous spring weather, a Florida vacation, a long Easter weekend, and even spring break for my husband, we have been in a near comatose state for the past month. So I figured that's it - not even my beloved coffee is helping anymore. So I went to the health store yesterday and bought some Arctic Root and took it this morning with my juice and proceeded to order my husband to do the same. And I don't care if it's a placebo effect, but I felt great today - alert and focused and actually got a lot of work done!

I love you

The evening relationship radio program asked its listeners to phone in and answer the question, "When is it OK to say 'I love you' for the first time?". Sitting in my car, I was about to pick up my cell and call, but a girlfriend called just as I was about to dial.

I have no recollection of every sensing any passion between my parents. No flirting or suggestive signals - instead they were properly frigid in a Catholic sort of way. My husband and I are still in love after 17 years. We seriously enjoy grossing the kids out by kissing in front of them (also a great way to teach birth control - this way they'll never want to try it themselves!).

I tried to recall at what point we said, "I love you," to each other the first time. I have a vague memory of where and when I think it happened. Yet as I pondered the question posed by the radio show host, it dawned on me that when you say it for the first time really doesn't matter at all.

I feel more joy hearing those words now, after all these years, than I did at the beginning of our relationship. When you fall in love everything's in turmoil anyway, and you say and feel a lot of different things, but honestly no one knows how things are going to turn out.

Today I KNOW that my husband loves me, so technically he doesn't have to say the actual words. But he does it anyway, and it touches my heart every time. It's like everytime he says it, he's choosing once again to express his will to stick it out with me.

At least that's how I feel about him.

Revelation?

After writing my last entry I sat down to meditate.

Feeling tired and cranky I knew it wouldn't be easy. Eventually I felt a wave of discomfort approaching, and as it started coming closer my immediate thought was to abruptly end this session. That's almost always my first thought.

Stay put and see what happens - my second thought. A couple of breaths later, in a dreamlike state, I pictured my skull cracking open (no oozing brains, just light peering out from within). I said to myself, "I am a child of God." The next instant I thought, "How obnoxious and egotisitical of me - snap out of it." Which I did. I felt embarassed.

Then I wondered, "Why do I feel embarassed? Isn't that what yoga is trying to teach us at heart? That we are all children of God, in an essence that WE are God?"

Hmmm...

Incoherent Non-poetry

Thoughts flying like popcorn, chased by monkey mind apes,
Feeling stuck in a rut between a rock and a hard place.

Chasing illusions like sunsets that slip gently out of reach
Behind the horizon, moving towards what?

As gravity increases it gets harder to breathe,
Unshed tears build up pressure inside.

Looking desperately about when I should be searching within,
Can you be only a "little bit" lost?

Confession

Easter Monday: a fantastic holiday - no school, no work, the sun is shining, the kids are playing with friends, my husband is away at the races with his horse, and for the moment I am home alone.

As I walked home from my son's friend's house, I noticed that in every single yard people were outdoors fully commenced in some type of garden work. It seems like everyone (except us) has taken on grueling outdoor projects, one more outstanding than the other. The sounds of birds chirping and children laughing were drowned out by a chorus of massive, outdoor equipment.

For those that really have green thumbs I envy your passion, because I simply don't have that gene (My husband even less so; I think if I'm a 1 on a scale of 1 to 10, then he's at least a -7.). And honestly, although it may very well be imagined, I can't help but think that there is this unannounced, underlying contest going on at the same time: Oh, honey, look at the Nilssons; they're using Holstein manure(!) - silly people!!

Seriously, I don't know how many times I've seen houses with intricately designed patios out front with rock sculptures, lighting, exotic plants, and the mandatory park bench, but I can tell you how many times I've actually seen someone sitting on one of those benches - ZERO.

But like I said, if this is what makes you happy, then knock yourself out and have a blast. Please, just don't mind if I leave a walkover and stick to keeping the lawn mowed while I spend the rest of my time doing something else, or perhaps nothing at all...

Get out, bitch!

I'm the bitch. The nagging mother and wife who can't be satisfied. The martyr who makes a point of letting her family know how it feels to lead her martyred, pitiful, and thankless life.

OK - maybe I am exaggerating a bit, but today I felt like the world's worst mother. Instead of embracing my loved ones and showering them with my compassion I was on their case about unpacked schoolbags and pajamas on the floor like a fly on s***. I felt like a complete bitch. I wanted to cry, but instead I swallowed my tears so that they formed a rockhard clump that chiseled itself in my stomach for the rest of the day.

Had I been more yogic, I would have allowed myself to feel what I was feeling. I would have opened my heart so that I could heal the hurt.

But I didn't want to be yogic today. I wanted to beat the crap out of something. I wanted loud music to drown out the whining in my head. So I went to my savior Carina's class, and she kicked my a**. After 15 minutes I was thinking, OMG - another 45 to go?

But I made it. Drenched in sweat with muscles that are going to barely allow me to walk this weekend I could finally breathe again...

...And returned home so that I could once again be the mom I want to be.

Some girls take pictures of their clothes...

...I take pictures of my FOOD!

The best lunch in Sweden, my friends, is served at Villa Viks in Växjö. Pure ecstasy.

Balance

For the second morning in a row, I have gotten up before everyone else. Last spring I made an effort to go for a morning walk. Yesterday and today I sat down to meditate in the morning silence. I think I may be starting to get the hang of this, albeit the changes are small and very subtle.

Since my sinuses are starting to note the approaching spring and are somewhat swollen, I've tested "nadi sodhana" (picture), that is alternate nostril breathing. It not only balances my breathing, I feel the energy awaken in each side of my body. Very nice, as Borat would say.

I continued on with a simple form of vispassana that I just read about in my Yoga Journal. On the inhalation I think, "cold air in", and on the exhalation, "warm air out". That's it.

Which is perfect, because that is all I can handle at 6 A.M. in the morning.

Grim

Today it felt like Death took a seat beside me in my car and wanted to show me some of his works in progress. Completely neutral and without passion, his manner was correct, businesslike, and matter-of-fact.

First was my visit to the woman with ALS. She sat nearly 24 hours a day in her power wheelchair, too afraid to lie down for fear of not being able to breathe. Her speech had been reduced to a steady gurgle and was completely incomprehensible. She was however thoroughly lucid, and with the little movement that remained in her left hand she could every now and then type a short phrase into her small computer. The entire house seemed to lack oxygen, as though her condition of gradual suffocation infected the air around her. The finality of her situation was tangible yet no one spoke of the inevitable, only what we were going to try to do to "make things better".

At lunch I read the main article in the local paper about a newly released book called "Life can't wait", which told stories about a number of young women battling (and losing) against cancer. The pictures, which were so tender and beautiful, depicted these brave women with their children, parents, and spouses, and had me in tears over my cheeseburger.

From there I began my drive homeward and decided to stop by my friend on the way home for a cup of coffee, this being my friend with cancer. I was as always welcome to visit, but this time he mentioned beforehand that he had been feeling poorly and would be needing to rest later on. In his doorway we hugged hello. I noticed his protruding cheekbones and that he had lost even more weight, but there was no point in pointing out the obvious. No point in telling him about my previous visit either.

We chatted, drank coffee, and switched from small talk to a brief recap of how his treatment was going. I found out that he hadn't even begun the actual chemo-treatment; at this stage he was still receiving antibodies, which are supposed to help him handle chemo, but even the antibodies were wreaking havoc on him. Or was it the cancer fighting back?

Nevertheless, my thoughts about Death stuck with me throughout the day. Even walking to pick up my children I passed the cemetery which was at the same time simply beautiful with its fountain, flowers, and newly cut grass. While I am not afraid of the thought of being dead, whether it be me or someone I know, it's the process that I find unnerving: the passage and the loss combined with inconsolable sorrow for those who remain.

Genocide

It seems that not a day passes without headlines about tragic, violent shooting deaths in the U.S.A., many times where entire families, including young, innocent children, are annihilated.

I don't think many Americans realize that this is NOT normal. That it's heinous. That if the revolutionaries could have foreseen how Americans would be massacring each other two centuries later they may have revised the "right to bear arms" part of the Delaration of Independence.

My prayers go out to the innocent souls that they didn't suffer.

Meditation metaphor

I finally did it. Got my butt in gear and set the alarm for Saturday morning. Drove to the local sauna (for the first time in years) at 8 A.M. only to discover that they now open at 9 A.M. Oops.

Ok - I took a walk along the shore and through the woods and simultaneously listened to the birds chirping and my thoughts flying about like popcorn being popped. Once in the sauna I was surprised that it wasn't as easy as it used to be. First of all there were 9 other women cackling like hens confined in a pen, and as the temperature in the furnace increased so did my heartrate.

This is not at all unlike my attempts at meditation. I no sooner sit down and close my eyes when I suddenly become aware of how uncomfortable I am, and how uneasy and restless and stressed out I am feeling.

But I stuck it out. Started drinking my water. When I felt warm enough I went out to the dock (the one in the picture) and climbed down the ladder into the 40 degree water (Farenheit). God, it was cold! Tried to count to five, but didn't make it past four (The second time I made it to ten.) Climbed back into the sauna.

Eventually the talkative ladies started to drop off. At last I was alone. In the silence, although I was sweating profusely, I felt much more comfortable. I watched two swans gliding just over the surface of the water. I noticed the windmill on the island across the sound. A gray-haired woman had sat down on the dock and produced a thermos. She poured herself a cup of what I believed to be coffee and lifted her face towards the sun.

It was as though we were in parallel universes, and yet we were somehow enjoying the same inner experience. In the end, it was worth all the effort, and I promised myself to come back again as soon as I could.

Reasons for joy - part IV

Once again, my husband forgot his lunchbox, which means lunch for me!! :-)

Reasons for joy - part III

Spring is knocking on the door, getting ready to burst right in!

Reasons for joy - part II

This furry punk always makes me smile.

Reasons for joy - part I

My angel has turned 10.

Desire

Saw these darlings beckoning to me when I took my daughter to Ju-jutsu training earlier this evening. Lust at first sight...

Denied!

My husband told me yesterday that there was some leftover pizza in the fridge for me. Yes!, I thought, that will be perfect for today's lunch. Usually leftover pizza when only P and the kids have eaten means at least 2-3 pieces.

At 12:10 I opened the pizza box with a gurgling stomach only to discover that a tiny, little piece, enough for about 3 bites, is all that remained.

I know I said I wanted to go down that pound or so I gained on our vacation, but....*sniff*

Catholic guilt syndrome

OK, even a lot of my non-secular girlfriends suffer from the same condition (Note that for some reason I know of no guy who experiences the following dilemma.). It's when you put your personal needs at the bottom of your to-do list, again and again.

This is the reason I work as an instructor at the gym in my spare time. Take tonight, for example: I had left home for work yesterday and spent the night in the town where we have our main office. On my drive home I got to town around dinner time, but I didn't go home directly since I had a class to teach shortly after 7 P.M. It turned out to be a magical hour, it felt absolutely fabulous, and I had the time of my life.

The sad thing is, had I not been teaching this class, you know, so that I had to be there, I would never have gone on my own. This despite the fact that it was the best thing I could do for ME. My kids are in bed by 8 P.M. anyway. I am really looking forward to seeing them in the morning and eating breakfast together, that's soon enough, right? Especially if it means being greeted by a relaxed, well-rested Mom?

But my feelings of obligation to them doesn't allow me to give myself the right to take 2 hours for myself if I haven't seen them for 36 hours. Luckily my obligation to my class (seeing as I have a contract to honor) saved my (now exhausted) butt once again.

Will I ever learn to put myself first, at least some of the time, at my own initiative?