In the eye of the storm all is calm. When life is in session sometimes it can feel like a storm — logistics, planning, hurrying from one thing to the next. For me it’s so important to pause in the midst of all that and return to that peaceful, grateful place.
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It’s March and that means it’s time to register for summer camps before they fill up. Ax has announced he does not want to go to summer camp. No summer camps at all.
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I could not be luckier than I am right now. I’m in my comfy chair, with my comfy blanket, and my cat Cleo kneading my lap in preparation for an epic morning sit. She is the best mindfulness coach ever.
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There continues to be a knowing-doing gap with me. Like I know, and I write about, and I talk about, how important it is for me to eat right for me - right stuff, right time, right amount, right frequency. That when that’s off then my mood and my well-being are off, and mayhem — real or mental — is more likely to ensue. Same with sleep, exercise, socializing.
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Today I’m going to let go of everything I’m efforting to hold and see what happens. I’m letting go of trying to be good. Letting go of trying, in general.
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I’m waiting for this morning’s celery juice to take effect. My friend Jewel brought me her slightly used juicer last night when she heard I’d been semi-converted to juicing rather than smoothie-ing and did not actually own a juicer myself.
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So, I’ve been talking more candidly to my friends, or rather they’ve been talking to me more candidly about all the “work” they’ve had. The tummy, the boobs, the thighs, the ass, the upper arms, and, of course, the face. The full-on face lifts, and then the chin implants, the cheek implants, jawline “softening,” brow lifts, neck lifts, and all manner of contouring way beyond the nose job. And then all the so-called non-invasive “maintenance” stuff, — chem peels, light facials, micro-blading, the parade of injectables including Miss Magic Botox and all her many sidekick filler friends.
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I found myself searching VRBOs at a local-ish ski place early this morning. After the Disneyland debacle and the unwelcome lesson that what is wonderful for some just isn’t for me, Mike and I decided he would take Ax on an exciting spring break boys adventure and I would stay home and enjoy some solo time.
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Ax announced the other day that he would like a “no screens day.” It went so well that we’ve been going screen-free in the evenings on the regular. Here’s what we do instead:
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My sister Rosie, the rockstar talented physical therapist, gave me some little stretch and ab exercises last time I went to visit her and her family. I did them for a while, not three times a week like she told me to, but once in a while.
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This day is as good a day as any to remember the love I’ve felt for the people, places, and things that have at one point or another given me joy. Today I will remember that feeling of being pleased and at ease.
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I figured out that struggling with the truth makes me feel crappy so I’m going to try to not do that. I also have a habit of making up stories about situations and people, especially myself, where there’s a lack of acceptance of what is.
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I slipped and went to Disneyland, even though my back was hurting and the drive was long, and even though the weather report said rain and my tolerance for wetness is low. I wanted to be a good mom, a good wife, and not the kind of good mom and good wife that I am, but a better one, a different one. One that likes a road trip and one that likes places like Disneyland, even in the rain.
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I love dogs. If you have a dog, I’m happy for you. We have a cat. She’s rather dog-like I believe, in that she comes to greet us when we come home, likes attention all the time, and is rather interactive.
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The initial joy-like feeling after purchasing the big white down sectional has worn off. Its lovely linen slip cover is wrinkled and floppy. The bright whiteness has dimmed with the dust of daily existence in our non-pristine real life home,
Read MoreWe had the memorial for the anniversary of last year’s mudslide January 9 and there’s been little rains this season, but not ones big enough to trigger an evacuation.
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I started thinking about what I’m writing about which halted my writing for a few days.Thinking is not my friend when it comes to expressions of the heart.Once I’m thinking about it I feel like that spark part gets lost in brain which produces something different, less human, more artificial, slicker, than what I’m most curious about now.
Read MoreSome of my peeps do a lot of PDG — public displays of gratitude. They say things like, “I love my life. I am so grateful for my life. It’s a beautiful day.” My inner rebel, let’s call her Kaboshia, says, “What-Ever!” Like a fourteen-year-old Valley Girl listening to a particularly lame parental. Kaboshia doesn’t buy it, this ooozing resting joy-face. The *ding* gleam in the eye of the raised consciousness crowd. She doesn’t buy it, perhaps doesn’t think it’s for her. Would rather rest in comfortable, known negativity than risk trying something new. Kaboshia swims in an ocean of fear that fronts like swagger.
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