Happy. Healthy. Whole.

Just a sketch, but this is how I am envisioning the Tree of Life.

Pay it forward? Nope. Time (for me) to pay it back.

There's a belief that one's karma is determined by past actions. So if you want to know how you were doing earlier, look at your life today. If you want to know where you're headed, look at what you're doing with your life today. Simple rules that are not meant to be taken to the extreme. Naturally, a 7-year-old's brain tumor has nothing to do with bad karma!!

Rhetorically, the idea that you can empower yourself to make a positive difference feels so much more enlightening than doing penance for fear of retribution. But I can't honestly say I am in the position to pay anything forward; if I look back on my own good fortune, my path has been paved by the love, support, compassion, and selflessness of both specific as well as nameless individuals. They have been as much my teachers as they've been benefactors, so I feel I owe it to them to make better use of my abundance.

At the start of the new year, I resolved to be more generous in my relationships - something that  has proven to be more rewarding and fulfilling than I ever could have expected. Now it's time to roll up my sleeves and get to work by doing more for those in need, regardless if I know them personally or not. For years I've been telling myself I need to do more than just contribute monthly to my sponsor-children. If there are people willing to dedicate their entire lives to different causes, surely I can tear myself away from the magazine, shopping mall, Internet, or wherever else I am spending my spare time to make an effort to and thereby a difference.

If youngsters can take it upon themselves to perform selfless acts, without any profit to themselves other than the satisfaction of having given unto others, then what possible excuse could I have for not joining them? Besides the fact that I take my hat off to their parents and teachers, they are, to me, the true pay-it-forwarders! RESPECT...

A prayer for giving

Have you ever tried to put on eyeshadow while holding back tears?

The past couple of days have been pretty emotional for me. The past month has brought with it news of people within my personal sphere being stricken both directly and indirectly by cancer: a friend of a friend, a friend from afar, and now, lastly, the child of a friend. I can’t hug any of them from where I am sitting. And I'm feeling so conflicted because I know that I should be praying, but I want to be able to do it in a way that will make a positive difference. In order to give, there must be a receiver. And just how will the receiver be able to accept the gift of prayer if it is given unbeknownst to them?

I’ve written an earlier entry about my hangups when it comes to prayer. No doubt, I have issues when it comes to acceptance. Yes, I understand that there can be no light without darkness, but this degree of random injustice is so distressing. As much as I support the idea that certain things happen for a reason, I draw the line here. I want to file a complaint with someone in charge.

The problem is I don’t see God as a “person”. After all, what role would he portray? The customer service manager for the universe? A switchboard operator who relays messages from pray-er to pray-ee? A call-in DJ waiting for caller #1,937,299,920 to have their wish granted? When I was 10, a friend of mine had followed along with me to church school. To this day, I remember her asking the reverend (this is when we were temporarily Episcopalian), almost pleading, to explain to her why her puppy had to die, even though she had prayed and prayed for its survival? Of course, he had no good answer, at least not one that our 10-year-old logic could grasp. I wonder if whatever he said then would have resonated differently with us now?

Back then, I never questioned the traditions of the Church. Today I follow another kind of ideology. It’s not that I don’t have faith, that I do. I believe in the benevolence of the Universe. I believe in the divinity of the Self and the interconnectedness of all Life. When it comes to pain and tragedy being an intricate part of Life, even if I have been spared the worst Fate has to offer, I still have to look no further than today’s newspaper to understand that it’s everywhere. 

Still, I just can’t wrap my head around that when I’ve decided to NOT accept the adversity, that there is nothing more that I can do than...pray. Even though I’ve recently encountered humbling lessons on acceptance in my yoga, and I understand the necessity of channelling energy productively, I can’t help but to continue to rack my brains every waking moment in an effort to figure out something more that I could be doing.

I've finally compiled short list; you might call it a pretty modest list. But it’s a start.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. ~ Lao-Tzu

Marathon

It's Sunday morning, and outside it is gray and raining. I am sitting on our couch together with my 9-year-old son. I'm on my laptop; he's on his tablet. We're sharing a blanket so I can fell he the heat from his skinny, little body; how is it possible that this little shrimp of mine, with 0% bodyfat, is always so warm??

I know a mother on the other side of the globe. She's a friend, and a fantastic woman. I've known her since we were preteens. She's been in my thoughts all night long. She, too, has a little boy, even younger than mine.

Now my cursor is just blinking at me, urging me to continue.

It seems they've discovered her child has a brain tumor, and their lives will never be the same again.

If just typing those words is enough to scare the daylights out of me (and trust me, my ego is madly coaxing me to delete the above sentence), what can she and her family possibly be experiencing?

The other night my husband and I were about to watch "Along Came Polly..." on TV. That's pretty much the only kind of movie I can handle nowadays. Before the movie began, an ad for an upcoming documentary was shown; it was about bullying from the young victims' point of view. For me, it was 30 seconds of heartbreak as I nearly started crying for two reasons: the unfairness of it all, and my inability to just grab onto those kids and hold them like there's no tomorrow.

That's exactly how I am feeling now, except the tragedy is happening to someone I both know and care deeply about. But what can I possibly do to relieve their burden? Is there anyway to alleviate such pain, even for a moment?

All I can think to say is that this mom has one quality that I don't have. She's a long distance runner (while her feet might have another opinion, that's her passion and a large part of who she is). See, I've never had that. I remember when I first came to Sweden and was invited to go on walks outdoors, my first thoughts were, "Where are we going?" and "When we will get there?". Long distance runners aren't like that. They take on the challenge of pushing their limits, and the most successful ones are the ones who acknowledge the difficulty, the pain, and yet they go on.

The great ones know that it's about continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

I'm here for you, SJ.

Hurt back is not all bad

Ahhh, living room turned sanctuary...

The clock on the computer reads 7:52. It's Saturday, and I am alone in our house. Any other day, maybe I would not have been doing a backflip, but you would probably have found me on my mat doing some serious backbends while basking in the peace and quiet. That's not going to happen today seeing as I am still recovering from having thrown my back out the other day. Just tying my shoes is a feat worthy of an Olympic medal.

At another point in my life, this situation would have me wallowing in throes of selfpity. I would have felt abandoned by my husband who is out racing his horse. I would have written list upon list in my head of everything I wanted to do but couldn't given my present condition. I would have been gritting my teeth fearing that all I've learned from my 13-year practice would disintegrate in the handful of days I would unable to exert myself physically. I would have shaken my fist at the ironic fate of having spent hours last weekend doing extensive hip openers, only to misjudge my newly found spinal range of motion a mere two days later, which is exactly how I ended up with this injury.

Instead, I'm ok with it.

What makes yoga different than my years of tedious exercise rituals is the training of the mind along with the body. And, yes, that, too, takes practice and dedication. Certain things fall into place at once while other hard-earned lessons come about only after I've gotten tired of making the same old mistakes over and over and over again.

I experienced one of my biggest a-ha moments a few years ago during my yoga for pregnancy course. The ob-nurse walking us through the delivery process (like I didn't know, having been-there, done-that, TWICE) stopped me in my tracks when she said that regardless of how much pain a woman experiences during a contraction, it will pass. It doesn't last forever, just as with everything else in life, she continued on saying. You could have knocked me over with a feather on the spot. It's been my #1 mantra ever since.

The other lesson acting as my pillar, or rather, more like my crutch today, is one on acceptance. I admit that the idea of acceptance is something that I have struggled with throughout the years. Not when it comes to tolerance, but rather when it's about me and my life story. I feared that accepting the negative could be equated with surrendering, giving up, like a dog rolling onto its back to expose its belly. Last weekend, at the same workshop where I found the new depths in my hips, my yoga teacher offered the idea of acceptance as a marker for your present state. From there, you have your "square one", a starting point from which you can move forward.

Just because it sounds simple doesn't necessarily make it easy, at least not for me, but I am grateful for the times when I feel the shroud is lifted, the clouds have parted, and the joy of finally "getting it" warms my heart and mind like rays of sunshine.

Quite frankly, it's kind of nice to have this morning, on my own, and for once not feel obligated to roll out my mat.

"Suck" means sigh in Swedish



Picture from Google



Lift stomach, lower tail. Lift stomach, lower tail. Lift stomach, lower tail.

This is my mantra. Every. Single. Day.

Except for one infinitesimal moment today.

When I worked as a sales rep I moved much larger pieces of equipment in and out of my van time and time again, and not once did I forget this golden rule. However, today I wasn't solo; I was helping another rep. And the model to be moved out of the car was the smallest version. I didn't even have to bend over. And I guess this was enough to make me relax...

The end I was supposed to lift just a smidgin' to help it roll over the ramp threshold wasn't even off the ground when I felt that indeniable tug in the small of my back. In less than an instant, I released my grip. I swore to myself and hoped that maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Why isn't there a rewind-delete function for such idiotic mistakes? As soon as I returned to my hotel room, I pumped myself with Advil, took a hot shower, and sprawled out on my bed wishing for a miracle. But my well intended attempts to reverse the process were in vain; the damage, I knew, was already done.

Alas, I must grudgingly admit that the 4-day pause from my yoga due to travelling will undoubtedbly be prolonged. Which is just so freaking typical after having treated myself to three days of mindblowing, eye-(and body)-opening yoga for my teacher Josephine.

*SUCK*

You can't take it with you

I've been "grubbling" alot lately. To "grubble" means in Swedish to be stuck mentally in a somewhat melancholy, puzzled state - you know, the kind that makes you go around muttering incoherently to yourself; the only difference being that you mutter about in silence.

It has to do with the autumn. This year's gone so quickly (again). It's been nearly six months since we were in Florida. The summer months and time off from work have drawn to an end. The only thing left before winter once again is unleashed upon us are, at best, a few weeks of crisp air and fall colors that seem to come and go at will. So when I was out walking last weekend, my head was spinning like crazy. I felt like I had to take it all in. Senses set on overload. Musn't miss a moment, a breath. Like a squirrel hoarding nuts, I was determined to TAKE EVERY LAST DETAIL IN, DANG IT! Something like this: Look! Blue sky! Listen! Birds chirping! Wind in leaves! Look and Listen! A flock of geese heading south (gulp)! Focus! Feel your footsteps! Smell the soil from the harvested fields! Hurry up! Notice your breath, your heartbeats! All this, so that I might have something to fall back on and wrap around myself like a quilted comforter while I await the light of spring's return.

Needless to say, the ratio of pleasure and stress was about 50-50.

So I contemplated this mystery in meditation. I thought somewhat defensively, "I was under the impression that this is how I was supposed to practice santosha (contentedness)? By acknowledging the wonders of nature... By appreciating my abundance... By recognizing that I am a tiny part of the infinite whole... So why am I feeling more anxious than fulfilled?!"

Then my Silence spoke to me. While taking in all the universe has to offer is the right way to go, the pleasure associated with it is meant to reinforce my conviction that I am exactly where I should be - at that particular moment... Instead I've been like the person, heck, I AM the person, who wastes their vacation making sure all the perfect pictures are taken so that we can have the memories as keepsakes. It's no different than the rich man who's determined to bring his fortune with him into heaven, a feat even more difficult than a camel going through the eye of a needle. Memories cannot be a surrogate for joy. This is what my silence told me. So I asked, "Well, what do I then, when life is dark, dreary, and allover depressing?!"

"You seek out the positive from that particular moment, so that you can again experience the same happiness you felt on your autumn walks." In other words, memories really won't help me then anyhow, so I shouldn't bother wasting energy wishing I was somewhere else.

Then I saw this sign a week later in Stockholm.

Well played, Silence, well played.

Baby Krishna and Bette Midler

Today, my mat session was dedicated to the sneaky, butter-stealing, and forever charming baby Krishna - the one who gets into trouble yet somehow manages to melts one's heart with his sweetness. His playful mischief is more a result of innocent curiousity rather any sort of animosity. So I decided to focus on playing with expansion today and reminded myself that having fun is just as important as having good technique...

In the background, Spotify-shuffle was my d.j. The exact moment it was time for Savasana, one of my favorite ballads of all time started to play. It took me back to my childhood and my adolescence, and I was struck with an enormous sense of gratitude to all my friends from way-back-when. It's been both an honor and a pleasure to have been able to know you. You will always be my heroes, whose beautiful qualities to this day continue inspire me.

And would you believe that there are even a few Republicans included in in that list... (Sorry, I couldn't resist; and yes, I'm joking!)

Love to you all.

Fall

Driving home from Denmark this past Friday, I noticed how the leaves on the birches along the highway were already spotted with yellow. "It's still August," I thought to myself with a slight cringe. Grin and bear it, I guess.

However, truth be told, I love the fall. I can't help it. As much as I've grown to dislike winter (and fall is the undeniable sign that winter soon will be upon us) nothing is more seductive to me than crisp, fall air. Today while P and I were out walking in the woods, a nearly overwhelming feeling of simultaneous warmth and sorrow washed over me, and I got all "verklempt" (Yes, as in Linda Richman from "Coffee Talk" verklempt). For my Swedish friends, it means I got all choked up.

The same thing, every year. As soon as the first signs of autumn arrive, I get all choked up. I've never been able to figure out why, but today something dawned on me. I had dreamt last night that I was about to die, perhaps due to some illness, I'm not sure. Anyhow, the only thing that mattered was for me to write letters to my husband and children telling them just how much I loved them. And despite my sadness, it was those feelings of love and my determination to express that love that were still present when I finally woke up and realized with a sigh relief that it was just a dream. I immediately curled up behind my husband, ever so grateful for the warmth from his body.

I've read accounts written by cancer survivors who proclaim a newfound appreciation for life as a result of their upclose and personal experience with crisis, finity, and mortality. According to them, they are now able savor each breathing moment more than they did before, a kind of rebirth and/or awakening, you might say.

I think that it the reason why the coming of fall affects me the way it does. While I am reminded that yet another year is drawing towards a close, I realize on another level that the passage of time is inevitable, and since there is only a short span of time left to enjoy the sight, sound, and smell of grass and leaves then there's really no time to be lost, least of all by fretting. Instead I have to get out there and enjoy it as much as I can.

With all due respect, I am in no way equating the comparison of a changing of seasons to the plight persons fighting for their survival face. And while I would never dream of saying that I can even begin to understand what it is they go through, there is still something to be learned by the lessons they offer on not only surviving, but on living as well.

Oh, ME of little faith...

Picture from Google

I am still working on venturing outside of my comfort zone.

On the one hand, I want to keep making an honest effort to be more generous with random acts of love and kindness to those around me. It's become apparent that my biggest obstacle there is once again the fear that I'll screw it up somehow. Can you believe that? Wouldn't you say that the likelihood of someone being somehow offended by a humble act of kindness is about as realistic as me informing my child who's made, say, a Mother's Day card that their drawing is sub-par? Am I right?! But honestly, I believe that my unreletting fear of making mistakes and of what others might think is what keeps me from giving more of myself to others.

Then there's the other side of the spectrum within my comfort zone - one that I temporarily exited yesterday. This is where I give a perfect stranger a piece of my mind. She was rude, and I called her on it. For once I didn't just look the other away because that would be like signaling that inconsideration to other people is OK, and it's just not. Still, my heart was pounding, and I had to struggle to remain calm, because I am the worst when it comes to these kind of confrontations. Surprisingly enough (yes, I'm being sarcastic here), she didn't agree with me at all, and this is why I usually don't bother saying what I think since I know it won't make a lick of difference. That and me being terrified of making a fool out of myself. But I didn't back down. And I remained civil. However, the flight-reaction of my sympathetic nervous system really let me know how far of a stretch it often is for me to stand up for what I believe is right without coming across as a nervous wreck.

For whatever reason, in cases like these, I put others' feelings above my own.

Is it because I don't trust myself enough?

Or is it that I don't value my own set of personal values?

Or could it be that the problem is that I am my harshest critic; in other words, I am the one who's incapable of forgiving myself for my own shortcomings?

When will I learn that if my intentions are pure, and my actions are consistent and earnest, that I won't have to worry about the consequences - regardless? Seriously, how much cool stuff could I replace all this fear with, now that I've become so much more aware of it?