Saturday, February 27, 2010

Tick-tick-tick...tap-tap-tap

A newspaper reporter asks a five-year-old to explain what time is. The kid answers, "Time is time. Kids have more time than grownups." In two days I will be turning yet another page on our family calendar, the third time this year. MARCH! Which is exactly what this year is already doing, marching on and ahead, and losing no time in the process!! On the other hand, isn't this what I wanted? For winter to end as quickly as possible so that we can get on with our lives while bathing in light and warmth to the sounds of birds singing and leaves rustling?

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. The stacatto sound from outside my window draws my attention. The temperature is finally above freezing, and it's raining. Thick layers of snow are drawn towards the edge of roof, and I watch as drops of rain and melting snow cascade in a waterfall of transformation. The glistening snow's spell is broken; its beauty is being extinguished before my eyes. And I find myself thinking, "Gee, maybe it wasn't so bad with all the snow after all?"

In whichever case, that question is moot as time is ever unfolding and ultimately unstoppable. While planning for a workshop tomorrow I come across an article written by yoga expert Donna Farhi. She addresses the limits of time with a question that feels as though it were directed to me personally, "What are we afraid of giving birth to?" Basically, dare we try to attain our dreams? Or do we settle for clinging to what we have by playing it safe?

Good question. Fair question. I like safe. I don't like failure. But does that mean I am letting fear run my life?

I'm taking a small step in what I believe is the right direction. This spring I am going to lead a group in yoga for pregnancy. Which means it's time for me to, albeit on an extremely small scale, take the first step towards going into business for myself. After all, time waits for no one.


Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Hibernation


Everytime I open my blog, I start thinking that I should really try to write something. The problem is that I am more or less just going through the motions at the moment. I wouldn't say I'm apathetic, but somehow my mind's defenses have shut down parts of my brain in an attempt to prevent me from getting cabin fever due to this insanely white winter we are experiencing.

My mantra these days is what the birthing nurse reminded us about at my yoga for pregnancy course two weeks ago: Nothing is permanent; everything you're feeling will eventually pass.

So I'm surrendering to Mother Nature (as far as I know, no one's beat her at any challenge anyhow). I'm accepting that everything we do on an everyday basis is going to demand more time, energy, and patience, and with that I'm to accept that it's only natural that I am feeling depleted as a result. So when I'm tired at 9 P.M., I can't start doing yoga or blog; I NEED to go to bed.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Removing my veil


Early Monday morning I got home at 3 A.M. after having been to Stockholm for a 5-day course in Virya yoga for pregnancy. Exhausted from lack of sleep, I spent most of Monday in a daze, feeling cranky and frustrated and thinking that maybe it's time to make some changes. I've brushed upon this topic recently when I got to thinking about the pros and cons a job change may or may not entail. My main hangup has been to what extent I would be willing to compromise the peace of mind accompanied with a comfortable salary. And sensing my hestitation to embracing a "simpler" lifestyle, this yogi-wannabe finds herself once again questioning whether or not she's mature enough to live truthfully - both towards herself and her family.

Later on that afternoon I grudgingly went out to shovel yet another few inches of snow from our driveway. The combination of cool, fresh air and physical exertion helped me snap out of my funk, and as I continued to pile snow on top of the 4-foot drifts that line our lawn I sort of had an epiphany. During my "digging meditation" I began to scrutinize in what ways I thought that a job change would improve my life, especially when it came to my yoga. I found myself fantasizing about teaching more classes and holding workshops and having a more regular and vigorous physical as well as spiritual pracitce.

The yogic term maya translates to "not that" and more or less refers to the illusions that incessantly spin around and get stuck in our minds. All of the sudden I realized that I was simply wasting my creative energy on an imaginary escape plan. And it's hardly the first time either. I am somewhat of a master at avoiding both conflicts and disasters, and in the past I have willingly tried different jobs and lived in different places, always in search of finding more satisfaction. The thing is that today I'm finally doing what I set out to do more than 13 years ago. And chances are, a change of jobs might lead to some improvements, but most likely there will be as many (if not more) disadvantages. And me taking on more classes isn't going to free up more time for me to hit the mat on my own, that's for sure!

Last month I couldn't decide on a New Year's Resolution. What came to me as a revelation as I sweated it out with snowshovel in hand, that which I have decided will be my New Year's Resolution for 2010 is:

- Making what I have work.

Picture from Google


Friday, February 12, 2010

Letting Debbie Allen Quiet My Demons: Part II

For those who know me (and/or this blog), you may or may not have noticed that guilt to me is like an old, cranky relative that you can't stand, but whom you have to put up with since it's part of who you are. So anything positive almost always includes a "Yeah, but" clause, and this visit to Stockholm is no different...

In "Part I" I joyfully listed all the positive aspects ofcoming here. I love being able to relax, recharge, and simply be able to focus on myself...as well as being able to continue on my journey towards self-authenticity.

On the other hand, what my choices entail are leaving my husband along with our two kids (plus cat) for 6 days. Not only do I miss them, I can't BE THERE for them other than the occasional phone call. Naturally, one of them gets sick; this time it was my daughter who caught a (albeit mild) 24-hour stomach bug. No vomitting, thank goodness, but the poor little thing had to constantly sprint for the bathroom all day Thursday. Today she was feeling better, but just to play it safe she stayed home from school for a second day.

Alone. In my bed. With the TV and cat to keep her company and soup she had to warm for herself in the microwave. All the while her mother tried feebly to "mother" from afar as best she could. And all the while my guilt-demons are doing a happy, little jig, jeering at me as I try to restrain from beating myself up for being so selfish and egotistical.

And I'm sure there's a lot of people, especially parents, who might think it serves me right. For them being a parent is their 24-7 call of duty, and being yourself is what you do once the kids have left the nest (unless they start having kids that you suddenly have to grandparent 24-7...). And I'm not judging them one bit; I think it's a choice everyone makes for themselves.

As for me, I don't see myself as just being a mother, a professional, or a wife. I want to be ME in addition to all those other things (which I, by the way, signed up for all by myself, thank you very much...). But in doing so, I find myself forced to work for it and compromising is essential.

Which brings me to Debbie Allen.... My girlfriend Maria has a workout top with "Miss Grant's" famous quote written on the inside. I just changed the word fame to "self-discovery":

- So you got dreams; you want (self-discovery). Well (self-discovery) costs, and right here is where you start paying, in sweat (even if it's mental sweat we're talking about).

Anyhow, that's the choice I've made. And I will continue on, trying to find the balance, going at it one day at a time, and always make a point of showing those dearest to me how much I love them.

Letting Debbie Allen Quiet My Demons: Part I



Now there's a title. Unfortunately I don't think the content of this entry will quite live up to the expectations a title like that brings, but here goes:

I'm in Stockholm where I am taking a 5-day course in Virya yoga for pregnancy. Just listen to the sound of that for a second:

1). I'm = on my own, without kids, in the process of being completely spoiled by my girlfriend Maria with her espresso machine, beautiful apartment, homecooked meals (topped off with Ben&Jerry's), and above all, lots of laughter from where we lay spread out in our pajamas on her couch.

2). in Stockholm = for those of you who have never been to Stockholm, it is breathtakingingly beautiful, let me tell you.

3). 5-days = see the point 1).

4). course in Virya yoga for pregnancy = and loving every little corn of knowledge and exchange I'm receiving, knowing that I am going to be able to use this knowledge and do some really positive things with them.

What about the demons then?? And where's Debbie Allen?

Stayed tuned for Part II...(which I hope to write later on this evening because I sort of have a bus to catch so that I don't come late to class!!)


Monday, February 8, 2010

Prioritize me!


The constant battle in my mind continues. Every now and then we (that is, my various wants, needs, wishes, hopes, dreams, etc) call a temporary cease-fire, and I can feel satisfied with things just as they are. But then somebody starts whispering, "What would life be like IF...", and within a split second all those other characters are riled up, and like strikers walking with their handmade signs in a picket line, they're all demanding to be heard - and appeased!

Take the following scenario for example: This weekend I read a want-ad for a pretty cut-and-dry P.T. position within the neighboring community, which happens to be the in the same town as the school where my husband teaches. With that I try envisioning the following: no more overnights, evenings free (=more yoga), steady work-schedule, car-pooling with my husband, being in a closer vicinity to my kids, all are included on the plus side.

The minus side: a lot less money, freedom, stimulation, travelling the country and Europe.

Plus side: no more guilty conscience for always being away when one of the kids fall ill or when the cat decides to battle it out with his little bird prey in the living room while the house is empty, leaving it up to my husband to defend the fort (and clean up the mess) on his own.

Minus side: The peace of mind associated with being able to afford a family vacation, activities for the kids, new clothes when needed, haircuts, birthday presents, car repairs.

On the one hand: don't change a winning concept.

On the other hand: you won't know if you don't try.

I think it's time for a hot bath (plus side, by the way, since I'm spending the night at a hotel).

Picture from Google

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Don't want to jinx it!

I've written before that where some might have a hard time admitting to others when times are tough, I have find it more difficult to admit when things are good. This partly due to my fear that if I openly express my own good fortune, I then risk that a) things won't get any better, and I will have to "settle" for what I have or b) I'll jinx my luck and things will take a turn for the worse. Ridiculous, I know.

The other reason I at times hesitate to answering, "Things are great!", when someone inquires as to how I'm doing, is that I am suddenly struck by guilt, afraid that my enthusiasm and all around positive attitude might offend others who aren't doing so great. Not that I really get how my being miserable would help others (other than the fact that misery loves company)... Juvenile, huh?

Anyhow, here goes: Things ARE great. Work is fine. House is warm. Kids are (pretty) healthy. Take this Saturday morning for example: I'm in pajamas lying in bed and blogging. Hubby is next to me in his bathrobe watching an episode of "Bands of Brothers". Daughter is upstairs singing along with some YouTube clip. Son is doing what he loves more than anything - playing Playstation.

Sure, we have a house to clean later, lunch to make, clothes to wash; but for now things really couldn't be any better.

Picture from Google

Monday, February 1, 2010

What I want most when I am dead


This is not something I have ever really thought about until now. This evening, as part of my post-workday routine, I checked into my favorite blog, Börja Om, and the author was literally fuming at the type of comments that were being left on another blog, Vimmelmamman, as a response to her latest entry. What had transpired the moblike reaction was a letter that "Vimmelmamman" had posted from a widower to yet another blogger, a 36-year old music teacher who had lost her battle with cancer this past summer. Along with her husband, she is survived by two young daughters.

The widower has since his wife's passing fallen in love with another woman and gladly expressed his happiness for having had this woman enter into his and his daughters' lives. Apparently his daughters had taken so well to his new partner that they felt they could call her "Mamma".

After having read his letter, a number of people went simply ballistic; so much so that is was scary surrealistic. I, on the other hand, clearly remembered how tears had rolled down my cheeks when the widower had early last summer informed his wife's followers of her death and his extraordinary loss. My reaction to this turn of events was marked with nothing but joy for him, his daughters, and even his wife, whom I believe is somewhere in the spirit world and thrilled to see her family moving on and focusing on the positive side of life, and living it to their fullest.

And, gratefully, I dare say that most of the those who commented to this newly published letter were also optimistic. But those who disagreed really got me thinking. The most common negative reaction was that people were so afraid of being replaced. They couldn't bear the thought of their spouse loving someone else, at least so soon (yes, there apparently is a time limit). Even worse, they claimed, would be to have been forgotten by their children.

O.K. I can sort of understand that type of spontaneous reaction, but if one were just to go back and really listen to what they just said or wrote: Afraid that they would be replaced after their deaths?! I mean seriously: even the most ardent marital vow is referred to as "'til DEATH do us part", not "'til DEATH AND THEN AT LEAST FOR 1-10 YEARS AFTERWARDS do us part".

Ownership... Desire... Fear... Pain... And it becomes so clear to me that this is what the yogic philosophies are trying to teach us! How can we possibly place demands on those we are supposed to love more than anything from our graves? I am surely not the only one who has wondered what it would be like to lose my husband or my children? And when I think about that uncomprehensible pain, I doubt I am the only one who has selfishly said that I am less afraid of my own death than the prospect of having to survive the death of one of my loved ones.

But I swear that if I were to die, I wouldn't want my husband or children to suffer even a microsecond, should there be some alternative way for them to lighten their burden. And should love enter into their lives, no matter at what point, I could only pray that they would jump at the chance to accept it and continue on in their pursuit of happiness.

And should my children experience enough love, compassion, and security that they could call someone other than me "Mom", well then I would consider myself to be one lucky spirit.