OK, so it wasn't exactly a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, but...

Just think that one can remember the title to a book that Mrs. Joy read to us in the 5th grade. We were then given a written assignment to write our own, similar story that Tony Chemero won, using Jimmy Carter as the hero of the story.

So maybe today wasn't a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, but I'm so glad it's over. It was one of those days when a million little things seemed to go slightly awry. Nothing bad enough to cause a disaster, but put them all together. Things like: getting a late start Monday morning (what a way to start the week), getting overcharged at Mc Donald's (!), telemarketer-calls to my private cell (that I do my best to keep PRIVATE), icy roads, and finally, getting locked out of my e-mail account.

And as irritating as each mishap felt, the fact that I've listed them here and put them on display for all to see is enough - for me to keep it real. Seriously, it's not like I don't know where my next meal is coming from or if I'm going to find shelter for the night. If I want melodramatic, I have a preteen at home who can fill my misery reserves (and then some!).

At the same time, I'm not trying to make myself out to be a saint. Like I said, I'm keeping it real. My mantra today as I pulled into the hotel parking lot was, "I made it through today; let's just get through tomorrow as well."

Puppy love

My cold had me awake at 6 A.M. today - Saturday. To top it off, Mr. Meow doesn't do weekends either, so for him 6 A.M. is breakfast time any day of the week. I got up, found my nose spray, and fed the cat. Everyone else was asleep so I figured I may as well do a morning meditation.

Meditating has gotten so much easier these past months. I wouldn't say it's effortless, but it's not nearly as tedious as it could feel in the beginning with thoughts ricocheting all over the place. This is where I'm at instead today, and most of what I've learned is from the authors Jack Kornfield and Ola Schenström:

- I realize that my body is breathing me. In other words I can just let that action go and occur naturally.

- I don't forbid thoughts and sensations from entering my mind. Instead I recognize them by name. For example, if I'm hungry I say to myself, "Hunger." If I start mauling about something from the past, I say to myself, "Memory." If I start imagining something that has not yet happened, "Future." And those gentle labels are enough to keep me anchored in the moment.

- Being able to separate the thoughts that come from my mind from my meditation is a big step for me. It becomes really apparent that the mind is a part of me, but it's not who I am. Imagining that my mind is more like a playful puppy that has to be reminded to take it down a notch also helps to keep my frustration at bay. (The puppy gets to go to the park to play when I blog instead.)

- Once my puppy settled down, I realized that I so wanted to feel that presence deep within me that appears every now and then. At the same moment I realized that "wanting" that is exactly what will prevent me from experiencing that. Even there, I had to let go. If the presence arose - great.

- If not, it's enough to be still. And even if "nothing" happens, I'll still get the benefit of feeling like I've taken a micronap when I'm done.

Om shanti om.

Picture from google

Wish list with minor obstacles

Completely steered by desire, I know. On the other hand, if you don't know what you want how will you know when you've found it?!

1. Get my son into dance class. During each commercial break on tonight's "Dancing with the Stars", my 7-year-old insisted that we practice our tango along with a little bit of jive. He also has all of Sean Banan's and Squidward's moves down pat.

The challenge: I could probably skip housecleaning yet another weekend and get him to the local dance academy's open house next Saturday; but how will we be able to add yet another activity to our already saturated list? We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, I suppose.

2. Get in both a yogic as well as a cardiovascular workout this weekend.

The challenge: dang cold. Problem most likely solved.

3. Get dolled up and make the most out of this winter's first (and probably last) date night.

The challenge: staying awake past 9 P.M.

4. Help my daughter find age appropriate makeup.

The challenge: getting my daughter to let me help her find age appropriate makeup.

5. Serve warm, delicious homecooked meals (and maybe even prepare something that can be heated up while I'm away next week).

The challenge: If I could just figure out what to make, that alone would make doing this a lot easier.

6. Get to bed on time.

The challenge: Shower? CHECK! Pajamas? CHECK! Get kids into bed? CHECK! Get into bed myself? CHECK!

In other words, "Good night."

The boss

Another thing I had done the evening of December 22nd, after having heard that it was just a matter of time before my friend would pass away, was a mat session. I was alone in the studio, and I dedicated my practice to B; I imagined I was channeling his light, his kindness, his warmth in every move I made.

Afterwards I took a long, hot shower. I sat in the sauna. I was especially aware of my breathing, all too clearly reminded of this fragile link that separates the living from the dead.

So when I left it was late, and I had one more Christmas present left to buy at the supermarket. Pulling into the parking lot, wiht just minutes left before the store would close, all of the sudden "The Streets of Philadelphia" started playing on the radio. Spellbound, I turned off my motor and just sat there, absorbing each note, word, and (heart)beat.



His funeral was on Thursday. Utter sorrow. So many tears. My heart went out to his wife and children. Paradoxically, it was equally beautiful, and a cathartic comfort was brought about, not in the least from the music that was played: Simon & Garfunkel, John Lennon, The Rolling Stones, and finally, Bruce.

That evening, when I got home, I started the car to drive my daughter to the mall. She asked to turn on the radio to a station that plays "good" music.

The first song to be played was "The Streets of Philadelphia".

Benneth: We know that you loved reading. Maybe you'll manage to find this. Throughout six years of cancer, chemo, operations, and hospitalizations, you still managed to call me several times a week to see how I was. So I expect that you will find a way to keep in touch even though you're no longer here. Vila i frid.