Cloudy weather

Oh, I've had the opportunity to work on those equanimity skills today, that's for sure! And let's just say I am a real work in progress - with a really long way to go.

I hate confrontations. Even the ones that are supposed to lead to improvement. But that's about me; I recognize that and realize that it's something I have to work on. I need to learn how to say what I think without getting too wrapped up about it!

Something I read last week in my latest issue of Yoga Journal has been a big help today. It was a metaphor where blue skies represent who we really are, and that while clouds of obstruction may block our view, they can't diminish the skies that we know exist behind them. So when those clouds literally came rolling in today, I did all that I could to find even a glimpse of blue between them.

When I talked to my husband on the phone, cursing rabidly about the day I was having, he just told me to come on home, that everything would feel better then. I nearly bit my tongue off resisting the urge to snarl something back. He called me back two minutes after I hung up to say, "Puss (kiss)."

He was wrong, of course. I started feeling better just five minutes later. The same way that clouds come and go, so do my moods. But recognition of that fact helps me remember that even when my clouds are dark and seem all encompassing, that they, too, shall pass.

Long time, no see

Or more like NO time, NO see.

I miss blogging, so much so that I left my warm bed at 6:30 A.M. on a Saturday morning so that I could indulge myself while the rest of the house was asleep. So my absence from this page isn't due to a lack of interest. It's just that I'm at the point where I have to prioritize whether I want to write entries or get enough sleep...

I think I can honestly say that I've never been busier than I am at the moment. Granted, having a newborn was a lot tougher than leading the life of career woman/mother of school children/homemaker/yogi/yadayadayada which is why you will never see me being a trendy mother of three! Having small babies was for me just utterly exhausting, albeit well worth the effort, if you know what I mean.

Nowadays it's the art of juggling in combination with the art of logistics that is vital if anything is to get done. In the process some balls must be dropped to the ground in order to keep the rest of them airborne. Funny thing is, for the first time in my life, I'm not feeling completely frazzled, and I think that learning to meditate is finally really starting to pay off.

In yoga literature you read about detachment, non-desire, differentiating between self and mind, but it's so incredibly diffuse in the beginning that you don't know what to make of it. And I definitely didn't see the point of it!

Growing up, I was the hypersensitive (still am), perfectionistic (still am), type-A (not so much now), reactionary (at times) whirlwind type. Note that I "still am" a number of these characteristics. However, I find that more often when faced with adversity, I'm not just living in Sweden - I AM Sweden (neutral, that is...). It's suddenly apparent that crumbs on the kitchen counter is easily remedied, and a cooler version of myself just grabs the dishrag. All the while, I see myself, almost in an out of body experience, from a distance, in a much calmer place than before.

The idea that I am not my thoughts is really starting to ring true, and the liberation that entails is mindboggling.

The fact that I am completely blessed in my life obviously plays a huge role, making it all the more natural to feel contentment despite our typhoon-like schedule: I have a good job that I enjoy, I have my darling children who seem to be doing well in their own life adventures, I have my husband, I have my yoga, I have my home.

If I were lacking in any of those areas, or if I were to lose any of them, I completely accept that I wouldn't necessarily be able to seem as self-assured as I am feeling for now. No kidding that it's easier to be detached if you know that you have the thing you're detaching yourself from! But maybe, just maybe, using the good times to learn more about myself will help me out when the dark times come.

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.

It's getting close now...

Those were my 7-year-old son's first words on December 22nd. Being awakened by his enthusiasm towards the pending Christmas celebration was like being awakened by the first returning birds in early spring. I woke up with a smile.

Outside it was bitter cold, but the shock of getting hit with subzero temperatures was easily surpassed by the beauty of the sun shining on the crystalized snow. With strokes of pastels colors from sunrise still visible along the morning sky, I headed to the village church to enjoy the school's Christmas assembly. The snow crunched beneath my feet as my lungs were filled with crisp, clean air.

Inside the church I listened to the children's songs and sang merrily along to "Stilla Natt" and "Nu Tändas Tusen Juleljus". Throughout the entire procession I concentrated on enjoying each moment with warm detachment. For once I felt able to experience joy without the normal pangs of dreary bitterness upon the simultaneous realization that the Christmas festivities as well as that beautiful winter weather would soon be nothing more than a fleeting memory.

Instead I walked back home afterwards feeling utterly content, thinking to myself that two days before Christmas Eve may very well be my favorite day of the year: we're close enough to the actual holiday that you can feel it in every cell of your body, yet there's no need to start freaking out about all that needs to be done seeing as there's still two days to prepare...

So, yes, I was content, even happy. Played Christmas carols on Spotify while wrapping the kids' presents.

That afternoon I received a phone call from a colleague/friend. Our mutual colleague/friend, the one who's been battling cancer for six years, had once again been hospitalized. This time there was nothing more that could be done. He died the next day.

We all knew that we were eventually going to lose him; yet he had fooled us by tricking Death out of taking him prematurely so many times before...that it seemed unreal. We had had our last conversation just a few days prior, and I had ended it abruptly because I had a another call waiting. How idiotic is that?!

Still, I know he didn't mind - he wasn't the type who would. And what would the point have been of knowing that this was the last time we would speak to each other? Maybe, at least I hope anyway, that it was just as well that we both enjoyed that last phone call just as it was, without worrying about the inevitable future.