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April 9th, 2013 In regard to last night’s beautiful Bikram disaster (yesterday’s post), I have to say I found the beauty of that disastrous class when I woke up this morning. I woke up in a great frame of mind with lots of energy. It was fit club day and I couldn’t wait to get there.
All through today’s workout I actually felt myself smiling in my brain. During cardio my mind was filled with planning my Young Authors Workshop I’m doing in Boston next week. Last night I didn’t want to think about it. I was wondering where I was going to get the energy to do it. That thought actually scared me. Never in my life did I question my energy for a big project. Uh – oh…here it is…this must be what they mean by “getting old”. Some people accept this. I almost did yesterday before I went to yoga. After one yoga class – that was pretty disastrous – I’m back to myself.
This morning I couldn’t wait to begin getting my materials together and get to my workout. It was during my workout that it occurred to me this was the beauty born of the disaster. A bad yoga class is really a good thing. It hurts and it’s hard to get rid of toxins and move and repair muscles. Not only muscles, but the general repair of all the body systems knocked out of whack by five days of doing nothing, does not feel good. The horribleness I felt all during that class was getting rid of food and sugar damage. Today I felt like a new person when I woke up and now, even at 2:30 in the afternoon, I have a lot of energy.
The funny thing is that people shy away from Bikram because it’s hot, it’s hard, and it’s uncomfortable, but that’s the point. To fix and repair all of the things wrong in all of our body systems things have to move, be removed, and repositioned and this is not going to be a picnic. Besides the sweat, there’s nausea, tired muscles, breathing difficulty, and not to mention the “monkey mind” telling you you can’t do this. When people ask me if Bikram is fun, I look at them like they have two heads and say, “No! It’s not fun. It’s necessary. Is going to the dentist fun? No! But it’s necessary.”
The beautiful disaster takes shape after class. Once you are careful to rehydrate and replace electrolytes, your body feels amazing, but first you have to go to class and put the time in. Now I know what the teachers mean when they say you reap the benefits in the twenty four hours following class.
And so, as another day goes by, I can’t sit safely in my chair when I feel awful, I have to get to class and get healed, and…I have written.
Haha…how true!
April 8th, 2013 I have a cool pink T-shirt that says “Beautiful Disaster” on it. Every time I wear it I always think how could a disaster be beautiful? Today I found out.
You know how it is with exercise – maybe today, maybe tomorrow, consistency wains. For the last two and half years I have knocked consistency home. It paid off. I felt really good…until…
…the last five days. For the first time in these two plus years, I didn’t do anything for five whole days. No fit club. No Koko. I spent the last five days in NY having a great time with friends and family, but didn’t even visit the home gym or local Bikram studio even once. I admit, it was longer and busier than most of my trips due to car buying, March Madness and eye exams. The thought that I wasn’t doing anything exercise-wise floated in and out of my mind like an annoying mosquito. I knew I was going to pay upon returning home. I knew it shortly into my four hour drive. I was sluggish and didn’t feel myself.
I arrived home about 1:30 and instantly fell asleep. When I woke up I wanted to go right back to sleep. I knew my nutrients and hydration were way off. I also knew the only cure for this. Yup – Bikram. Oh this was not going to be pretty, but I got up and headed out to the 4:30 class.
When I got there I found it was going to be a Leslie class. Leslie is is a tough teacher. She runs a hot room, and all though she oozes sympathy, she doesn’t relent. Leslie is actually one of my favorite teachers. Through her I learned to not be afraid of the heat or of holding poses an extra second or two. I learned to approach each pose gently and quiet myself in between them. I knew today I’d need every one of those skills.
Sure enough. Made it til party time. (A short water break after the warm up poses.) Standing head to knee was more standing and not a whole lot of head to knee. This is the pose I fear even when I’m having a Rockstar class because if I go in and come out too many times I jeopardize my energy for the rest of the standing series. I sat out the second set of both standing bow and triangle. The first side of tree was all I could manage and sat and stretched my knees right through toe stand. My muscles were tight, sore and tired, and definitely dehydrated.
The spine series suffered, too. I laid still for one set of locust and bow. I DID manage both sets of camel, and for today, I consider that a win. The floor series ended uneventfully. Even though the room was hot, not once did I have a breathing problem. It was all tired, overspent, muscles. That means even it wasn’t so much the five days off as much as it was I didn’t pay attention to nutrients and water during those five days.
The Bikram disaster held a certain beauty. It brought me back to my early struggles in the hot room. Some of which I needed to be reminded of. There are hard times and there is perseverance to be found to get through them. I arrived home feeling better, in both body and spirit. Spent, but definitely better. Bikram class is definitely a beautiful disaster that never disappoints.
And so, as another day goes by, I’ll wear my shirt with meaning now, and…I have written.
April 7th, 2013 “To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it.” ~ Mother Teresa
When I first read this quote my mind flitted to the word “replenish”. What do I need to replenish everyday? I need to replenish my mind, my body and my spirit. My mind needs the stimulation of new ideas. My body needs more good food and exercise and my spirit needs to be moved by the “lights” that cross my path each day.
Those lights come in many forms. Television is one source of that light. News, dramas, and talk shows make me think and ponder. Conversations with people I spend my days with are another source of that light. As soon as I enter the yoga studio or sit down at a table in Panera for lunch with a friend, I immediately smile. The smile leads to animated conversation. When I leave yoga or the lunch, I can actually feel the infusion of energy my spirit just received. Nature is another form of spiritual replenishment. Beach walks or just looking out my backdoor and watching the antics of birds and squirrels in my garden cause that same infusion of energy to my spirit, but in a gentler, much quieter manner than in a conversation. Replenishment of mind, body, and spirit. Why must I be so diligent about it?
Because I, too, am a light for the people I encounter everyday. I do for them what they do for me. How do I want to put myself out there? Do I want to appear sick, sad, and needy or do I want to appear smiling, excited about life, and ready to participate and give? I pick the second way.
In order to appear positive and excited about mundane everyday life – (because, you see, therein lies the challenge – mundane everyday life – not just when something good happens), is reason enough to practice replenishment. Daily, constant, replenishment of mind, body, and spirit.
And so, as another day goes by, I am once again reminded of the importance of diligent replenishment, conscious of the kind of light I want to be, and…I have written.
April 6th, 2013 Today’s message from the universe was one of simplicity. My NY daughter and I rarely get to spend a day together here in NY. Today she had to shop for a complete outfit to wear to a wedding next weekend and she asked me to go along. Finding a dress and shoes and jewelry was surprisingly quick and easy, giving us time for a drink and a leisurely lunch. We took our time and enjoyed easy conversation about our lives. Both of us were grateful for the easy day and the time spent together. She remarked more than once that I get to do this more often with my Boston daughter simply because of proximity. Today she said she’s posting a picture of our outing because “I’m always doing this with Ashley.” I laughed and agreed with her.
Turning sixty this summer, the message was simple. Value days like this with your children. Either you or they will be gone one day and the one whose left will treasure the memories. I feel this a bit harder today because this morning I woke up to a message from a musician friend that her mom had passed. This girl gave up her music for more than a year to stay by her mother’s side, 24/7, even being trained to care for her. We corresponded back and forth for the duration of her mother’s illness and I prayed for the family daily, so when I woke up to the news this morning it just set the precedent for how important today was spending it with my daughter.
And so, as another day goes by, once again it’s small moments and easy words that make the biggest impact, and…I have written.
Here’s to my babygirl!
April 5th, 2013 Eleven years ago I fell in love with a car. I’ll never forget that day. I had the first Honda CRV that came out and I brought it down for a service. It was the only SUV I ever had. I always drove Accords. I hated that “truck”, as I called it. That day, in the showroom, I saw the new 2002 Civic coupe. I just knew it was mine. I asked my sales guy (whom I’ve now dealt with for over 20 years) what kind of a deal I could get. After all was said and done, that silver Civic coupe could be mine for $103 a month. He asked if I wanted to test drive it. I drove it home to show my kids. He thought I got lost. On April 22, 2002 I bought that car and have loved it ever since.
But now it was eleven. It needed shocks, an air conditioning overhaul, and tires next fall. My husband was questioning its safety on my drives to and from NY. The time has come to let go of my precious car. That car was me. It looked like me, it behaved like me, and it just plain felt like an old well-worn pair of comfy jeans when I drove it.
I took excellent care of it and it took excellent care of me, but now we must part ways. I came to NY yesterday to buy a new Civic. Last night in the Mohawk Honda parking lot I found the new love of my car life, but then I turned and saw my old faithful friend just sitting there. This new car buying was going to be bitter-sweet. Today when I turned her in in favor of her new successor, I actually patted my old 2002 Civic goodbye. It hurt…..
…it hurt until my sales guy, Jim Lynch, drove my new girlfriend up to the door. He backed it into the customer pick-up area as I watched from a chair inside the showroom. Ahh…oh my…is that MY car? All thoughts of leaving my old silver girl in that parking lot disappeared. I discovered what people and yoga and meditative readings and bible study have been preaching to me for two years:
“Let go. It’s hard. It hurts. But…it’s necessary. You have to let go of the old to make room for the new. And guess what? The new will be way better than the old ever was.”
And so, as another day goes by, the new, sitting in my NY driveway, trumps the old hands down, and…I have written.
April 4th, 2013 Awhile back I wrote about the seven ways to wrestle in prayer. The first one was to seek wisdom from God. The second one was to rejoice in God’s time and seasons. That’s where I continued to get stuck. Rejoicing in God’s time and seasons means, to me, hands off – don’t worry about it. I have a hard time with “hands off”. My reactions to situations are so different than God. I want to hurry up. I want to jump in and fix everything. God slows down. God takes time to think.
Then, this morning, I came upon a simple story that explains why my reactions to God’s timing is so different from his. In the story a man told his family he didn’t want a party for his birthday. When the day arrived, the family insisted they were taking him out to dinner and he insisted he wanted a quiet family dinner at home. They were having none of it and finally convinced him to get ready to go out. He lazily climbed out of his easy chair and took his time getting dressed. They were all dressed and kept urging him to move faster. He couldn’t understand their strange behavior. When they arrived at the restaurant, walked inside and everyone yelled surprise, he suddenly understood why their behavior was so different from his. They knew about the party. They had already smelled the cake. They piled up the party hats and presents. He had no knowledge of any of it.
So it is with God’s timing and seasons. God knows about the party. We know nothing, so accepting God’s timetable is a hard deal for us. From now on when I stumble on number two in wrestling with prayer, I’ll remind myself that God knows about the party and I don’t.
And so, as another day goes by, today that story helped me relax and begin my day with a little more peace, patience, and grace, I hope it did the same for you, and….I have written.
One more time:
Wrestling In Prayer:
1. Keep coming back to God for wisdom
2. Rejoice in God’s seasons and timing
3. Determine to want what God wants
4. Speak out what you want
5. Pray against the opposition
6. Refuse to get discouraged
7. NEVER GIVE UP!
April 3rd, 2013 In honor of April being autism awareness month I would like to feature the story of a very special friend of mine. Her name is Sharon and she is a single mom raising three children. Two of her children are autistic and were ages two and six when we met. Their story is an amazing one.
One day, six years ago on MySpace, Sharon wrote a blog that I will never forget. It was entitled “A Day In The Life of A Mom of Two Autistic Children”. I was exhausted after reading it. Exhausted and amazed at the the job Sharon did everyday with these children. At the time Matt was two and Lauren was six. I’ve met Lauren at concerts we used to attend together. Both are beautiful children having such a hard time living in this world.
Then one day Sharon put a link on Facebook to raise $6000 for a service dog. A service dog? For autism? I found this concept amazing. We all got behind Sharon and the kids and, yes, raised the money. Matt and Lauren received training and Brock became a full-fledged member of their family. Lauren and Matt’s life was forever changed by the arrival of Brock.
Brock, Lauren, and Matt’s story was in Ladies Home Journal Magazine and can be read here:
Best Friends: How A German Shepard Changed Lives
Today I’m sad to report that Brock is very sick and has to be retired. Life without a service dog could devastate these children’s lives. We now need to do it again. We need to help raise another $6000 dollars for Matt and Lauren to get a new service dog. If you are willing to help, please go to the link below to read the story of the difference Brock made in the lives of all members of this family and see pictures of Matt and Lauren with Brock. You will see that every dollar you pledge will make a huge difference for Matt and Lauren.
4 Paws For 2 Kids
Thank you in advance to all of you who click on the link and give some love to my very special friends. In addition to giving, could you please share the link to this blog with your friends on Facebook and retweet on Twitter.
And so, as another day goes by, we did it once, we can do it again, let’s go, and… I have written.
Photo: Shell painted by Ari Kaufman.
April 2nd, 2013 After a very busy day I went to 4:30 Bikram yoga. I’ve been pretty consistent doing Bikram and Koko every other day, but today I did both. Usually when I come home from yoga I’m inspired and my head is filled with thoughts. Sometimes there are so many thoughts, I have to reign them in, organize them and dismiss some.
Tonight is rather unusual. I climbed in my chair, turned on The Voice, huddled under a blanket and serenity won out over thinking about anything. I sat motionless. Not talking. Not thinking. Not writing. Not even really watching the show. I just sat. It was the most amazing forty minutes of quiet and inactivity – very rare after yoga class.
And so, as another day goes by, peace and quiet settle over me – yoga quiet, and ….I have written.
April 1st, 2013 No, not me. (Calm down dear. Lol!)
Sharon Osbourne is sixty.
Sharon Osbourne is pregnant.
Sharon Osbourne is sixty.
Sharon Osbourne is pregnant.
Wait.
One more time.
Sharon Osbourne is sixty.
Sharon Osbourne is pregnant.
Nope. Still can’t wrap my head around it.
Today I turned on The Talk and my daughter called. I lowered the TV and proceeded on with our conversation. Out of the corner of my eye I see the ladies on The Talk jumping out of their seats, going crazy. They were all yelling and hi-fiving Sharon. Obviously I missed something big.
When my call was finished, I rewound the show to see what I missed. Sharon Osbourne told how she had been away for two weeks at a fertility clinic and was impregnated with an egg and Ozzie’s sperm and she’s pregnant.
I know. That’s what I said.
After all the yelling and congrats she said, “Okay now, let’s get on with the show.” I sat there, continuing to watch, but I still couldn’t lay that concept straight across my brain.
Sharon Osbourne is sixty.
Sharon Osbourne is pregnant.
Nope. Still doesn’t fit.
I believe a woman is is in charge of her own body, and as long as she’s healthy, she can do whatever she wants with it. But..wait….
Sharon Osbourne is sixty.
Sharon Osbourne is pregnant.
Nope. Still can’t wrap my brain around that one.
I get it now. It’s April 1. This is an April fools joke. What good one. Had me hook, line and sinker.
Thinking that’s the case, I went online and…uh….no….people had heard about this before today and were wondering if it was true. Then it was posted that she just announced it on The Talk. I proceeded to watch the rest of the show to the end to see if they were going to announce that it was, indeed, and April fools joke. They didn’t. In fact, they didn’t even mention it for the rest of the show.
So….Sharon Osbourne is sixty and is, indeed, pregnant.
Sorry. It’s not computing. I’m sixty. I’m fighting with a slower metabolism. My hormones have decreased. I’m tired in the afternoon. I need to move another ten pounds. I spend a lot of time adjusting diet and food. I’m healthy and fit, but I’m still sixty. I can’t imagine being sixty and pregnant. On purpose.
We can do a lot great things artificially in this day and age, but getting purposely pregnant at sixty is really artificial – in more than just the medical sense. It just doesn’t fit with what my body is built for at sixty. Even more, it doesn’t fit with what my mind is built for at sixty. Sixty is for reinventing myself and morphing out of the busy mother and teacher I used to be. Sixty is another chance to be something else when I’m grown up.
I always admired Sharon Osbourne and the jobs she does both on and off the show at sixty. I admired how she looks – her hair and face are gorgeous at sixty. She worked hard to lose 40 pounds and get fit. She was an idol for me. Now she gets pregnant. How do I feel about this? Just because I want no part of it at sixty, it doesn’t mean it isn’t for her. Forty, fifty, sixty….I guess it all comes down to what’s in a woman’s heart that guides what she does with her body.
And so, as another day goes by, it’s going to be an interesting year on The Talk watching her progress but, wait…Sharon Osbourne is sixty…Sharon Osbourne is pregnant…it’s not making anymore sense to me than it did when I began writing this piece….I wish her all the best with the pregnancy, and…I have written.
And then…..Twitter says:
Haha! Haha! Good one Mrs. O! At least you got me thinking!
March 30th, 2013 Today the Cape Cod Children’s Writers held one of our writing retreats where new writers bring their tender, new-born work to be critiqued. I love working with writers who sit in the same seat I sat in two years ago – scared, holding the very first thing I’ve ever written. I remember being so nervous to share my work that I read it so fast they kept stopping me and telling me to slow down. After I finished reading I remember how I sat in extreme angst waiting for the critique to start. What if it’s awful? What if they hate it? What if they tell me I can’t write and I can’t embark on this new career?
Back then those feelings were so real. In the last two years, working with new writers from the other side of the table, I firmly believe that ALL of us could be a writer. Yes, I mean you, too. Everyone has a story. It’s just a matter of desire to share that story. Some people are very private and they wouldn’t ever want to share their story. That doesn’t mean they can’t. That doesn’t mean they aren’t a writer. It just means they choose not to be one. I believe the potential to share our lives through a story exists in every human being, young or old. Everyone has something worth sharing. Every heart has battle scars and victory flags waving and that’s where the best stories lie.
So when new writers bring their new-born babies to our table, I treat them with the utmost respect. I am honest – as I always was as a teacher with my young students – because not being so would be a disservice to them as growing writers. I try to deliver my honesty in a way that will encourage and inspire the new writer to raise their baby, growing it into a mature piece of writing to be shared with children.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time with them today. I am continually amazed at the creative content they bring to the table. If you are a new writer, bring your work to a Cape Cod Children’s Writers Retreat. We will guide you and help you grow your story.
And so, as another day goes by, share your story – it may change a life, and …I have written.
Visit us at:
Cape Cod Children’s Writers
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