She answered the door with a smile sloppily outlined in red
lipstick.“Hi, Welcome.” She said in an
upbeat, slurry tone.“Did you know my
brother is dying?Oh yea, his cancer has
just gotten worse and worse.” What the
fuck was this lady talking about? I
barely knew her, and I certainly had no idea she even had a brother, nor did I
really care.After she walked me arm and arm into her huge kitchen, I made eye contact with another mom and exchanged an unspoken look of "WTF is going on?" She never again mentioned
her dying brother, but moved on to other random topics like her getting in trouble for looking at her husband’s
private files in the basement and creating a rhyming game with a circle of moms
to try and remember our names.It never
worked, and honestly, I don’t know how the rest of us kept a straight
face.She was the kind of person,
though, that you could laugh at and they would never know.
I only know her because our daughters play sports together.I remember the first time I saw her.We were at a softball game and
I could hear her from the other teams’ bleachers.She spoke a little louder than most, but it’s
also that I am an involuntary eavesdropper.It’s sometimes the only thing that makes my life worth living, making up
stories about other people’s lives and adding them to my petri dish of hate for
humanity.So, I was listening to her and
she was embarrassing.I mean, her family
had to be so embarrassed.She could barely speak actual words and when
she did it was inappropriate and sounded like she never developed mentally past
Kindergarten.She had a plastic, lidded
cup in her hand that she drank from through a straw.What was in there anyway?And why was I kinda jealous of her lack of
self-judgment?
Here’s what I found out that day at the soccer team party in
the richest, most gated, part of Seattle: her husband (who oddly never seemed
at all bothered by her lack of awareness or intelligence, and in fact, acted
like she was totally normal!!!) was a psychiatrist.He must keep her medicated, I thought.But why?Was this just another intriguing short story I would never sit down to
write, or could it really be the sick and twisted, amazing truth?How could I have done anything else but
launch a full-blown investigation?
This is a quote that is often said by teachers in Bikram yoga classes. I am assuming it comes from the man himself, and after reading his books, I would say that sounds about right. I hear this phrase all through my yoga class these days, repeating in my head. Sometimes it is inspiring, and other times I use it to beat myself up. Five simple words. It's up to you how you use them.
I love that about Bikram, I love the way the class pushes us to see the best in ourselves, to see what we are truly capable of. It is often so much more than I thought I could ever do. I don't believe his intention in quotes like the above is to have us punish ourselves, and yet it is a habit that comes up again and again for me. And so, just like in stand head to knee pose, when I want to give up, but I know I can keep holding the posture...it is also the same when it comes to the mind, I can keep letting go of those self-judgements. Yoga strengthens the mind, if you choose to let it.
"If you can, you must."
BLOG
I didn't want to blog this morning. I went to Levi's class to volunteer with the writer's workshop. I do love going there, the kid's are so creative and each one unique. Almost makes me want to be a teacher...after I become a nurse, a midwife, a farmer and maybe a yoga teacher too. So, I just got home and I have 40 minutes before yoga. (more white people's problems...between volunteering and yoga it's like I have no time to blog. ugh.) .
Last night as we talked instead of finishing another martial arts film, Amy shared a tip from a successful blogger, "Blog everyday. Even if it is just a sentence." And so, here I am...sitting at my make-shift desk, blogging. Because I can.
I love blogging. I feel alive and engaged with the world. I know I am actually in my apartment, alone, staring at a keyboard and screen. In some sorta virtual world. But I do love it, and in this I have found a passion. I love knowing you are out there reading this, and that maybe sometimes something that we write matter to someone. I mean, that is one of my whole deals in life, I want to do things that make a difference...even if small, one person at a time.
A whole year has passed since Dina and I started this blogging adventure together. I can remember looking ahead to the coming year back then, with such excitement for each new thing I was going to totally immerse myself into. My plan, as I recall, was to do whatever new thing that month brought every day of that month. And if I couldn't make that happen, I would read about that thing or learn about it in some manner. Some months I lived up to that expectation...I remember during "growing our own food month" I read a Michael Pollan book and watched a few movies on that state of our agriculture system here in the US and found it all to be very inspiring. And i felt like i used my time wisely considering after I planted my seeds, there wasn't a whole lot to "do" for a bit...besides chasing away big dogs and their big fat paws from my little plant babies. During "painting month" and "learning the Beyonce dance month" I found a way to do those things most days, and found it even easier to feel guilty about not doing them on the days I didn't make them a priority.
"Sewing ourselves a dress month" nearly brought me to a murderous state...what with all the tension and agro-ness toward sewing, and the big scissors in my hands. I totally hate sewing, as I do most crafty endeavours; and I knew that going into it and often found myself with fabric and thin pattern paper everywhere wondering...why in the fuck did I pick this? But I have to say, I am so proud to have finished that mini dress. Every time I wear it I find a way to let someone know...."I made this!" Would I do it again? Maybe. And yes, I am a bit crazy. Then there was "writing month", remember that? Of course not! I didn't write a goddamn thing. That was a shocker, I thought I loved writing. I even, at one point in college, thought it could be one of my hidden talents. Turns out, the blank piece of paper won again. Almost. I did finish that readers write submission! The other total flop of the list had to be "salsa dancing month." It started out fine, going dancing for Jamie's birthday....and then never again. Sometimes life and the priorities it sets right in front of you take center stage, not the dance floor.
By far, clearly, my favorite was "yoga month." I had no idea it would sweep me off my feet the way it did. and even more of a shocker was that it would be Bikram Yoga that I fell for. I gave everything I had to that practice and I am sure you know, dedicated another whole month to this moving meditation...completing a 30 day challenge. Other months that I liked included drumming, the vegan diet, and the make-up-your-own-month where I did a simplifying of my stuff, a major purging.
I am so, so grateful that I took on this year of trying new things. I learned so much about myself and life and people. I gained a self confidence I never had before. I have a stronger foundation from which I can stand and greet the world in a new and more diverse way. And I am looking forward to a year of new activities, new lessons, new challenges, and new triumphs. I wonder if I am still looking for a passion? Or am I finding a way to stay youthful and maintain some sort of mental flexibility, and physical too in some cases. I love that this helps me be open to trying new things...those of my own imagination and dreams and those of someone else's. You never know what someone else is going to put on that list.
Amy and I revealed our new lists last night at a dinner to celebrate finishing the 30 days of yoga (which was much harder and less euphoric than I had created it to be in my mind all month.) I think both of us would have rather been soaking in a hot bath tub or snuggled in a warm blanket on our couches, but in the end we had a great time. It was so fun to pick each folded piece of paper and unfold it not knowing what was written inside, and then share our thoughts and ideas and research we had done for each topic.
So....we will reveal the list tomorrow, with a new look and feel to the blog.
xoxomelissa
PS...and now, I leave you with my submission to the Sun magazine:
Readers Write Submission
Paying Attention
For the past month I have been practicing yoga every day. Every day I spend 90 minutes in a room heated to 105 degrees, working my body into 26 different postures and sweating. When I set out on this challenge, I assumed that the physical aspect would give me the most trouble. And while it has at times, what I am discovering is that the mental component can prove to be much more of a struggle…but with exponential benefits.
The unspoken question arises moment-to-moment….what am I going to pay attention to? Am I going to mentally jump ahead and worry about what postures are coming next, and what postures I can weasel my way out of without too much self-deprecation to follow? Am I going to pay attention to my trembling muscles moving and holding the poses, the teacher’s calm voice guiding me through each posture? Or am I going to be in each moment, totally present, only paying attention to my breath coming in and my breath going out?
The times where I am paying attention to my breath and not the mental chatter are fleeting, but blissful. I get to that place by being a beginner again, and not anticipating, not reviewing…just following instructions. It seems to me that being in that state is a sort of “not paying attention” to anything. Those few moments when the mind is clear are elusive and beautiful, and can disappear as soon as you start paying attention to them.
We can spend all the minutes of our day paying attention to the details of life…getting the dishes clean, making sure all the bills are paid, folding the laundry, feeding the kids, answering the phone, the list goes one and on. I feel unending gratitude for those brief moments where my mind is free to not pay attention to anything, to just be and not attach to any thoughts, watching them float by like clouds on the sky.
