Friday, May 29, 2015

For Being Gentle with Me



I can't tell you kids how grateful I am to be in recovery and to be growing into my own understanding of how little I have control over. I feel very out of my normal routine, and I have since I moved; I live further away from town now (which I love) and calculating my commute has been an adjustment. After having guests in town for a week straight, I was excited to get back on track with regular exercise, only to sprain my ankle. I spent two hours at the DMV today getting the title to my new car transferred to my name and the car registered in New Mexico.

Anticipating going to the DMV this morning, I felt grateful. This would be my third trip there for these purposes; this would have driven me bonkers in the past but thanks to practice in the program, I felt an acceptance. "Hopefully I'll get it all done today," I thought. "But if not, I'll go back." The feeling of gratitude I had for this serenity spread over into other areas of my life as I sat with it. "Thanks God for being gentle with me and letting my injury be a little sprain of my ankle;" I have two friends right now with big old knee injuries and surgeries in their future. I had a misunderstanding with a client this week about scheduling and we both took responsibility for our part in the miscommunication, no one got upset or even frustrated, it was gentle. I didn't remember to bring a book to the DMV, I was happy to catch-up on some emails and stare into space for a change. Just when staring into space got boring, the cute boy next to me wanted to talk; (truly, I don't give a hoot about cute boys, I'm super into my super cute boyfriend) message received. It was gentle.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Talking A Walk



I've been having some feelings of guilt lately about a relationship that I was in that dissolved. I've been seeing my part in the dissolution in a new light and feeling sorry for my contribution.

Recently, I was in a situation that I just needed a little break from. I had started to feel frustrated, but there wasn't really anything I felt frustrated about; I was feeling separated from myself. Somehow, I had the insight to just take a break from the scene, and I took a short walk. I even had a real-life excuse for my walk: I had to go feed the parking meter. My walk and my parking meter feed lasted 15 minutes or less and it was exactly what I needed to reconnect with myself and to feel centered.

When I was talking to my teacher Jen this morning, I told her about my feelings of guilt and, even though it didn't seem that important, I told her about my little walk. "There's nothing you need to feel guilty about," she said. Jen talked about how, "hanging in there," and "sticking with it," even past the point of comfort is what's rewarded in our culture. And she reminded me to not be so hard on myself. "You're just taking a walk away from that person right now, maybe someday you'll walk back, and maybe you won't."

Friday, May 22, 2015

Including You



"Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you."--Anne Lamott

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

"Love What You've Done"



In Al-Anon, I've been learning about not abandoning myself. With practice, I'm getting better at it. The other day, I got into "getting stuff done" mode, I was no longer being present and my movements became willful. Sure enough, I hurt myself. The big ouch on my shin, a perfect reminder that I had "abandoned myself." I was pretty hard on myself about it, until the next day in my daily reader, Melody Beattie reminded me not be, with the exact words I've been learning, "Have you abandoned yourself? Let yourself see if that's true, feel if that's true. Learning to love the way you handle things. Love your unique way of learning, growing and seeing things. Love where you've been. Love what you've done."

Friday, May 15, 2015

Sacredness in Tears




“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.”--Washington Irving

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Dear Chachi,





You were the first person to ever play the song "Emotional Rescue" in a yoga class. That was a good call, Baby Love.

You were the coolest out of all of us, maybe nobody said it, but we all knew it. You were the coolest not because you were from Costa Rica, or because you were the first one to die, but because:

You loved beer so much, you even knew how to make it. 

I didn't even know what a century bike ride was, and you had done one. 

When you said "Sunnyside, Queens," it sounded like a perfect two-word poem. 

Thank you for giving me rides after Midnight Yoga. Ya gotta be familiar with the New York City Subway System route changes that go into effect at 12am on Friday AND be the polar-opposite of a night-owl like me in order to truly understand what those rides meant.

I'm sorry the last time you ever called me, I texted you back. I'm sorry the last time you ever texted me, I facebooked back. I didn't trust that text was working on wifi when I was in Guatemala, I should have trusted. 

You are why we know about and get to go Villa Sumaya. Thank you for that. 

Sometimes I play all of my Spotify music on "shuffle" and it feels like Spotify picks the songs I'm going to hear. Yesterday when I pushed "shuffle," it felt like you picked the first song: "Slip Slidin Away" by Paul Simon. I don't even know if you liked Paul Simon. But I bet you did. I know you liked Dave Grohl, and I like him too, not because I looked into him for myself, but because you liked him. If you thought something was cool, it was; it still is. 

You already know this, but I'll explain for everyone else, that in yoga, sometimes we say a mantra on our inhales and exhales. Like "So" on the inhale and "Hum" on the exhale, or even, "Let" breath in, and "Go," breath out. Since I heard on Sunday, all I can practice is "I love you Chachi" on my inhale and "I love you Chachi" on my exhale. I hope you know I do. 

All over the world there are beautiful sunrises and beautiful sunsets. In New Mexico, yesterday, I got to see both. There was a special extra couple pink puffs in the sky last night, that seemed to be winking at me. Sometimes I think, "that's my Higher Power," when I see something cool in Nature; now I think, and hope, it's you.

I love you Baby Love, and I always will, 
Baby Love

Rest in Peace Chachi Luna Cruz
July 23, 1978--May 9, 2015


Friday, May 8, 2015

"There"



I love the dear people in my life who listen to me say the same things over and over again. For the last month, all I've been able to talk about is moving. Now that I've moved, all I can talk about is settling. My boyfriend Mike has probably heard me say I'm looking forward to getting some new furniture about a thousand times. My new house is 2 to 3 times bigger than my old house, and a couch and a rug will help fill the place out big time. This morning, in yoga, Annie Carpenter said, "Enjoy getting there as much as you enjoy there;" an excellent reminder for me. This period of time I'm in talking about buying a sofa and putzing and cleaning, and putzing and cleaning, won't last forever, it's basically just a blip. And a sweet blip, there's nothing wrong with having energy concentrated intensely towards a project or outcome. Enjoy getting there.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

"To Let Go"



The other night I did a ritual, right there under the full moon, in my new house's backyard, which by the way, has a fire pit. Part of the ritual was to burn the contents of my God Jar; which was getting full, from about a year of not emptying. Although I did not read each little page I had written to God, I felt the worries, intentions, fears and hopes release and relax as they burned. It can be nice to know what we're letting go of, but I learned from my friend Sonya that we don't have to know in order to let go. She says, "you don't have to name what you're letting go of." Just setting the plan, "to let go," is enough.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Gratitude Rose



You guys, I moved! I moved just outside of Taos, to a dear village called Arroyo Seco. I've been wanting to move to Seco, and I was hoping to move into this very house. And here I am.

The past few weeks, as I drove down the street to my old house, increasingly I was excited to switch up my orbit and have a new street and a new house. I spent all day yesterday cleaning my old house with my good friend Sabine, and when we were finished, I was ready to go. As luck would have it, there wasn't enough room in my car for my bicycle. Luckily, my former landlord said it was ok to pick up my bike today. I got to go back into my old house one last time, by myself, and it felt right to go in and say goodbye. It looked so different without any of my stuff in it, much smaller. Gratitude rose in me as I looked around one last time. "Thank you for all the learning," I said. Even though it's time to go, even though that space feels outgrown, I am so grateful for it. Kinda like Dr. Sues said, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."