showed up today, after needing to reschedule by two hours.
Happily, so did client number nine, who woke up feeling so poorly she almost called to cancel.
I am so glad they both managed to make time for reiki, and now, so are they.
Both clients #9 and #10 reported seeing green and purple shapes behind their closed eyelids beneath my hands, which then turned to white light. I cannot ascertain how much of this is the effect of Karen Johns' chanting and how much is from my touch, but so long as we are working in tandem there is no real need to know.
I think it must be good, don't you? I do wish I knew what it all meant...and I am so curious to know what I will learn in the next level of training, and how much knowledge I will need to seek on my own. I am a moist and thirsty sponge when spoon fed knowledge, but I can also be a passionate sleuth and I love ferreting out new information. I am officially fascinated.
Client number 7 wrote to me last night in gratitude, imploring me never ever to take my gift for granted. Thank YOU, dear friend, and I won't, I promise! I feel so blessed to be able to do this work, and to inspire such positivity (this is precisely the sort of feedback I knew I would miss were I to continue to practice poverty law, where there is always a feeling of not being able to do enough).
Practicing reiki is so restful for me, so deeply peaceful and happy, which is a such a great gift to me. Since I lack the self discipline to meditate as regularly as I would like, I find that practicing reiki forces me at least to enter a meditative state, even if I only clear my mind for a couple of minutes at a time.
I am getting to know the rhythm of Saprema, the cd I use to guide and deepen my sessions, so that I almost do not need to use the clock anymore except to confirm that I know what time it is as I go along. I need to divide the hour into 27 parts so that it feels like a natural and unhurried flow to the client, and Karen's gorgeous, soulful chanting helps me to organize time while remaining in a peaceful state.
I love sitting down with each friend at the end of a session and listening to them recall the feelings, images and sensations they have just experienced in response to my touch. It is really exciting to hear and encourages me to go forward.
I leave town tomorrow to visit Hope Springs for the third meeting of my women's leadership collaborative. I have decided not to practice reiki there because I cannot possibly get to everyone and do not want to be seen as playing favorites in this politically and emotionally charged environment. I will miss it, not to mention the fact that we could surely use a little energy healing in this group! I will also miss rehearsing with my new friends in the Seven Hills Sinfonietta tomorrow evening and the following Wednesday, and I will very sadly miss my Sam's performance in the Bremen Town Musicians Thursday night.
But I'll be back in April, after a family trip East, fully charged and ready to resume my blogging and my beloved practices of yoga, violin and reiki. I will report back to you at that time.
Until then, namaste...
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
reiki, week one, looking back
So, it is just a few hour shy of one week ago that I returned home after my level one reiki training. I have given reiki sessions to eight people and two more are scheduled tomorrow. Generally, people tell me they leave the table more relaxed, with a greater sense of well being and inner peace, much like after a good massage but without the soreness, and several have experienced interesting visions or dream images during their session(s).
My massage table is performing beautifully. I love the adjustable height, and it comes with its own carrying case so that I can make house calls. But I'm not done shopping. Already, I need to order a heating pad and a rolling stool and a stack of Karen Johns' new cd, Saprema.
Here's why:
People tell me they feel a pleasant but intense heat radiating from my hands but after I remove them from one spot on their body and place them somewhere else, they become chilled where my hands used to be. And one friend told me she felt like there was ice cold water rushing down her spine. So, I am getting a heating pad for the massage table, and I hope that will help.
I found a leather ottoman from the living room that is just the right height, but it is a nuisance continually to lift and very quietly place it all around the table as I move, so I am getting a rolling leather stool made expressly for this purpose.
As a matter of course, I consciously cut my connection to a person's energy immediately after working on them. But I realize that I need consciously to cleanse negative energy from my hands after working on each meridien, and I learned from my friend, Radha, that they do this in India by keeping a bowl of water nearby and washing hands in between every pair of hand positions. So, the towel bar on the stool will come in handy.
Process: Complete hand position, wash hands, towel dry, roll stool over to the next location...repeat
Most who are fortunate enough to have done yoga at Shine know Karen's chanting comes from someplace divine. Karen has had many yogis report to her of the magical things that come into their heads while lying in shavasana as she accompanies her own chanting on the harmonium. On March 12, Shine hosted a release party for her first cd, Saprema, which means "with love", and as soon as I heard it, I knew it would be the music I used for my reiki practice. Everyone compliments the music, and today I realized (thanks, Lori) that I must have some copies on hand for people to take with them.
That's it for week one, as it comes to a close. I look forward to tomorrow's reiki sessions with Jennifer and with Laura and to working with all of you who come for treatment. I am delighted with what a good match for me this system of healing seems to be, and I just wish I could share it with everyone.
People watching me paint have marvelled at the steadiness of my hand, observing that straight lines seem to flow from my brush effortlessly. I've always said that's the surgeon gene I inherited from my father. Now, as clients consistently remark on my exreme stillness, I'm realizing that my steady hands are a tremendous boon to me in reiki. It is truly effortless for me, just as it is in painting; al I need do is form the intention and it happens. When seated in the right place, I find I can easily hold a pose for five minutes without pain or discomfort. And while it is true that this ability would have been an asset to me as an artist's model, I am much happier using it to do reiki than I would have been sitting naked in the center of a circle of scrutinizing gazes, thankyouverymuch.
See you on the table!
My massage table is performing beautifully. I love the adjustable height, and it comes with its own carrying case so that I can make house calls. But I'm not done shopping. Already, I need to order a heating pad and a rolling stool and a stack of Karen Johns' new cd, Saprema.
Here's why:
People tell me they feel a pleasant but intense heat radiating from my hands but after I remove them from one spot on their body and place them somewhere else, they become chilled where my hands used to be. And one friend told me she felt like there was ice cold water rushing down her spine. So, I am getting a heating pad for the massage table, and I hope that will help.
I found a leather ottoman from the living room that is just the right height, but it is a nuisance continually to lift and very quietly place it all around the table as I move, so I am getting a rolling leather stool made expressly for this purpose.
As a matter of course, I consciously cut my connection to a person's energy immediately after working on them. But I realize that I need consciously to cleanse negative energy from my hands after working on each meridien, and I learned from my friend, Radha, that they do this in India by keeping a bowl of water nearby and washing hands in between every pair of hand positions. So, the towel bar on the stool will come in handy.
Process: Complete hand position, wash hands, towel dry, roll stool over to the next location...repeat
Most who are fortunate enough to have done yoga at Shine know Karen's chanting comes from someplace divine. Karen has had many yogis report to her of the magical things that come into their heads while lying in shavasana as she accompanies her own chanting on the harmonium. On March 12, Shine hosted a release party for her first cd, Saprema, which means "with love", and as soon as I heard it, I knew it would be the music I used for my reiki practice. Everyone compliments the music, and today I realized (thanks, Lori) that I must have some copies on hand for people to take with them.
That's it for week one, as it comes to a close. I look forward to tomorrow's reiki sessions with Jennifer and with Laura and to working with all of you who come for treatment. I am delighted with what a good match for me this system of healing seems to be, and I just wish I could share it with everyone.
People watching me paint have marvelled at the steadiness of my hand, observing that straight lines seem to flow from my brush effortlessly. I've always said that's the surgeon gene I inherited from my father. Now, as clients consistently remark on my exreme stillness, I'm realizing that my steady hands are a tremendous boon to me in reiki. It is truly effortless for me, just as it is in painting; al I need do is form the intention and it happens. When seated in the right place, I find I can easily hold a pose for five minutes without pain or discomfort. And while it is true that this ability would have been an asset to me as an artist's model, I am much happier using it to do reiki than I would have been sitting naked in the center of a circle of scrutinizing gazes, thankyouverymuch.
See you on the table!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
weekend gratitude
Just 2 hours from Cincinnati sits the top rated hotel in America (according to Conde Nast Traveler) and the 6th best in the world. Is this possible? Or, like the two way mirrors in the bathrooms, is it a trick? Paul and I went back this weekend a second time to see if we were dreaming. Turns out it's all quite real.
21c museum hotel is strangely affordable, thanks to its location in downtown Louisville (a short walk from the Louisville Slugger museum), yet it offers wonderfully curated international art exhibits by living artists, and a world class restaurant, Proof on Main. Each time you wait for an elevator you are uniquely entertained by video art, interactive art and whimsical light fixtures. In each guest room, there is original framed artwork, the loveliest bath products, an excellent bed, pillows and bed linens, gourmet coffee by the cup, a fully loaded ipod, and a plasma screen streaming short art films. On the basement level of the building is a great gym and the consistently fantastic massage therapists who, more than any others I know, can expertly knead out and release locked up yoga hip, tight violin shoulder and tired decorative painting neck.
In case you are wondering about the promotional tenor of this post, nobody pays me to mention them on my blog. Maybe someday, but not yet. I just like to share joy whenever I stumble across it. Enjoy!
Oh, and even better great news for Cincinnati - 21c is planning to open its second location in the old Metropole building downtown in 2012!
21c museum hotel is strangely affordable, thanks to its location in downtown Louisville (a short walk from the Louisville Slugger museum), yet it offers wonderfully curated international art exhibits by living artists, and a world class restaurant, Proof on Main. Each time you wait for an elevator you are uniquely entertained by video art, interactive art and whimsical light fixtures. In each guest room, there is original framed artwork, the loveliest bath products, an excellent bed, pillows and bed linens, gourmet coffee by the cup, a fully loaded ipod, and a plasma screen streaming short art films. On the basement level of the building is a great gym and the consistently fantastic massage therapists who, more than any others I know, can expertly knead out and release locked up yoga hip, tight violin shoulder and tired decorative painting neck.
In case you are wondering about the promotional tenor of this post, nobody pays me to mention them on my blog. Maybe someday, but not yet. I just like to share joy whenever I stumble across it. Enjoy!
Oh, and even better great news for Cincinnati - 21c is planning to open its second location in the old Metropole building downtown in 2012!
Friday, March 19, 2010
sleep is the bomb
I mean, it just is.
Yesterday, I could not imagine posting about gratitude. I thought I wanted to blog like Heather Armstrong of Dooce, all in uppercase, venting, sassy and sarcastic. I just didn't have the energy. I was wiped out, aching physically and emotionally.
Today, I am back. Full of affection and patience and happy to hear the birds chirping before dawn.
And all because I went to sleep before 11 pm. It is miraculous, really, the transformation. I wonder how people with chronic insomnia do it. I have friends who toss and turn all night and still go to work, parent their children and seem perfectly pleasant. I am weaker than they.
I understand why people might become addicted to their medical sleep aid. If I had a choice of feeling the way I do this morning, every day, versus the way I felt yesterday, every day, and I could take a pill to make the difference, I would. Without question. So, I hope those scientist folks keep working to make safe, effective medicine for insomniacs; the current side effects are unacceptable. But I digress. I just feel so thankful that I can sleep when I want to, in bed, on a plane, in a train, in a car. I rarely if ever have troublle sleeping, and when I do, I find that 15 minutes in the hot tub makes falling back asleep a non issue.
And that is a very good thing for mankind, and especially for the segment of the population known as my family. Because without sleep, there is a bit of a Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde thing going on in our house. At the time, I think I am perfectly rational for being angry at (almost) everyone in my household and about everything. (I'll admit, there is one person in this house I cannot seem to get mad at, but still, if sleep deprived, I will snap at him by day's end as well.) Best for all to steer away from me and say as little as possible. Of course, nobody does this. I am the functional center of this household, the primary source of food, massage, and many other forms of assistance. I do not wear a sign around my neck on those rare sleep deprived days, but perhaps I should, to remind both of us.
DIDN'T SLEEP
STAY BACK
Perhaps I'll make one today, while I am prepping to teach Van Gogh to the first graders this afternoon. We will be recreating Starry Night today, as an oil pastel mosaic on 48 pieces of oaktag/posterdboard. I promise to post the result. It will
surely be beautiful. So, if there is oaktag left over, I'll make that warning sign and file it away for the next time I do something stupid like staying up to clean and throw stuff out until 2 am on a school night. And I'll hope not to need it for a very long time.
Yesterday, I could not imagine posting about gratitude. I thought I wanted to blog like Heather Armstrong of Dooce, all in uppercase, venting, sassy and sarcastic. I just didn't have the energy. I was wiped out, aching physically and emotionally.
Today, I am back. Full of affection and patience and happy to hear the birds chirping before dawn.
And all because I went to sleep before 11 pm. It is miraculous, really, the transformation. I wonder how people with chronic insomnia do it. I have friends who toss and turn all night and still go to work, parent their children and seem perfectly pleasant. I am weaker than they.
I understand why people might become addicted to their medical sleep aid. If I had a choice of feeling the way I do this morning, every day, versus the way I felt yesterday, every day, and I could take a pill to make the difference, I would. Without question. So, I hope those scientist folks keep working to make safe, effective medicine for insomniacs; the current side effects are unacceptable. But I digress. I just feel so thankful that I can sleep when I want to, in bed, on a plane, in a train, in a car. I rarely if ever have troublle sleeping, and when I do, I find that 15 minutes in the hot tub makes falling back asleep a non issue.
And that is a very good thing for mankind, and especially for the segment of the population known as my family. Because without sleep, there is a bit of a Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde thing going on in our house. At the time, I think I am perfectly rational for being angry at (almost) everyone in my household and about everything. (I'll admit, there is one person in this house I cannot seem to get mad at, but still, if sleep deprived, I will snap at him by day's end as well.) Best for all to steer away from me and say as little as possible. Of course, nobody does this. I am the functional center of this household, the primary source of food, massage, and many other forms of assistance. I do not wear a sign around my neck on those rare sleep deprived days, but perhaps I should, to remind both of us.
DIDN'T SLEEP
STAY BACK
Perhaps I'll make one today, while I am prepping to teach Van Gogh to the first graders this afternoon. We will be recreating Starry Night today, as an oil pastel mosaic on 48 pieces of oaktag/posterdboard. I promise to post the result. It will
surely be beautiful. So, if there is oaktag left over, I'll make that warning sign and file it away for the next time I do something stupid like staying up to clean and throw stuff out until 2 am on a school night. And I'll hope not to need it for a very long time.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
reiki (still very new)
I think I'd like to post something about reiki while it is still new to me, while my my knowledge and understanding is still narrow and superficial, but my sense of wonder is wide open. Reiki is a spiritual form of energy healing, based on ancient/classical Chinese medicine, using chi(the life force in and around each of us) to improve people's well being and prevent and/or cure various ailments.
On Monday, I had eight hours of reiki training with an excellent teacher. Before earning my certificate, I administered a full basic reiki session "on" my classmate and gave a mini session to my intructor. I went immediately home and, after inhaling some leftover pizza, performed all the basic reiki positions on Max. Max said he saw colors, epecially green, and death eaters (as in Harry Potter) and also - get this! - said he felt like there was an electric current running up and down the center of his body. While he was "not uncomfortable" per se, he admitted to being a little "freaked out" and from this I learned to do a better job preparing clients for the sensations they might experience during reiki. I felt badly, but at the same time, I was also a bit thrilled to have helped Max become so much more aware of his chi.
While attending to clients lying on the floor, I have been finding it very difficult to hold each position for a full five minutes without experiencing pain in my hips, knees, back, you name it. I need to get a massage table, or do a lot more yoga. In order to hold a position and remain completely still, I must stabilize my hands, and to do this in a squatting or kneeling position, or bent over at the waist with bent knees and my elbows on my thighs...is physically challenging. I have to believe it gets in the way of being fully present, energetically, for my client.
Yesterday, I pulled the two twin mattresses we keep for sleepover parties into the kitchen, and stacked them, Princess and the Pea style. I relocated the smaller of our two round kitchen tables out into the art studio and created a reiki room in the 9 by 12 foot space that used to be the breakfast room, before we came in here and tore down a bunch of walls. Now, my beloved Buddha Shavasana painting presides over the place where I channel energy and it could not look or feel more perfect...until my massage table arrives. While Paul took Max to his Tuesday evening acting lesson, I performed three reiki sessions - half an hour on Sam, twenty minutes on Isaac and then three quarters of an hour on my friend, Susan, who came by in her reiki-freindly flannel pajamas. (One should always wear natural fibers during reiki, and so I'm planning to invest in some all-cotton surgical scrubs to offer my clients)
Today, Marcy had a 40 minute session. Yesterday, Susan came back for a second one. Both men, but neither woman or child has fallen asleep during Reiki. Very interesting, but not sure what this means.
I love feeling the flow of energy under my touch. I feel very happy and peaceful when performing the reiki session, meditative and helpful at the same time, a wonderful combination. I cannot wait to learn more! I've purchased two new books of information about ancient Chinese medicine, but I also have reading to do for my memoir, reading to do to prepare for my collaborative, which meets next week...and I also need to start getting us all ready for our Passover road trip. Plus, we are adopting a dog a soon as we get back to town, and today she (the dog) spent the day visiting with me. So, it's pretty hectic around here.
Oh, joy!!! My massage table has arrived!!!
Who's next?
On Monday, I had eight hours of reiki training with an excellent teacher. Before earning my certificate, I administered a full basic reiki session "on" my classmate and gave a mini session to my intructor. I went immediately home and, after inhaling some leftover pizza, performed all the basic reiki positions on Max. Max said he saw colors, epecially green, and death eaters (as in Harry Potter) and also - get this! - said he felt like there was an electric current running up and down the center of his body. While he was "not uncomfortable" per se, he admitted to being a little "freaked out" and from this I learned to do a better job preparing clients for the sensations they might experience during reiki. I felt badly, but at the same time, I was also a bit thrilled to have helped Max become so much more aware of his chi.
While attending to clients lying on the floor, I have been finding it very difficult to hold each position for a full five minutes without experiencing pain in my hips, knees, back, you name it. I need to get a massage table, or do a lot more yoga. In order to hold a position and remain completely still, I must stabilize my hands, and to do this in a squatting or kneeling position, or bent over at the waist with bent knees and my elbows on my thighs...is physically challenging. I have to believe it gets in the way of being fully present, energetically, for my client.
Yesterday, I pulled the two twin mattresses we keep for sleepover parties into the kitchen, and stacked them, Princess and the Pea style. I relocated the smaller of our two round kitchen tables out into the art studio and created a reiki room in the 9 by 12 foot space that used to be the breakfast room, before we came in here and tore down a bunch of walls. Now, my beloved Buddha Shavasana painting presides over the place where I channel energy and it could not look or feel more perfect...until my massage table arrives. While Paul took Max to his Tuesday evening acting lesson, I performed three reiki sessions - half an hour on Sam, twenty minutes on Isaac and then three quarters of an hour on my friend, Susan, who came by in her reiki-freindly flannel pajamas. (One should always wear natural fibers during reiki, and so I'm planning to invest in some all-cotton surgical scrubs to offer my clients)
Today, Marcy had a 40 minute session. Yesterday, Susan came back for a second one. Both men, but neither woman or child has fallen asleep during Reiki. Very interesting, but not sure what this means.
I love feeling the flow of energy under my touch. I feel very happy and peaceful when performing the reiki session, meditative and helpful at the same time, a wonderful combination. I cannot wait to learn more! I've purchased two new books of information about ancient Chinese medicine, but I also have reading to do for my memoir, reading to do to prepare for my collaborative, which meets next week...and I also need to start getting us all ready for our Passover road trip. Plus, we are adopting a dog a soon as we get back to town, and today she (the dog) spent the day visiting with me. So, it's pretty hectic around here.
Oh, joy!!! My massage table has arrived!!!
Who's next?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
tonight's gratitude (oh, boys!)
What a weekend my boys gave me, for no particular reason. No elaborately planned Mother's Day could ever top the experiences I shared with them during the last couple of days. Sam participated in leading the Friday night service at temple, just a little bit, but so sweetly, and then wrapped his arms around me as we were standing to pray together. Saturday, Sam had baseball tryouts, so I took Isaac and two friends (one for each of us) to Yellow Springs, to buy ice cream at Young's Dairy pint sale and then feed the baby goats there. To watch him and Elyse talking to and interacting with the animals was so precious, as were the animals themselves, from the baby calves and kids to the very pregnant mamas.
Saturday night, we took Sam and Isaac to see Max perform in a musical at the high school, and my favorite part was watching all my boys hug each other after the show was over. They congratulated their big brother, so proud of him, and it seemed he really appreciated their being there. Today, after Sunday school and lunch, I took Sam and Isaac to our beautiful Music Hall for a Cincinnati symphony concert. Paavo later explained that the Grieg piano concerto had been, when he conceived of the program, the "Scandanavian sorbet" between two French courses: the Dutilleux 1st symphony and the Bizet 1st Symphony. We heard only the Grieg and the Dutilleux, but that itself was a gift, because the shorter program meant there was no intermission to tempt us with leaving before the concert was over, as we have often done in the past.
One of the boys had the brilliant suggestion, right before the concert began, of our moving up to the empty front balcony and looking down on the stage, which made it possible to answer all their wonderful whispered questions from behind my program, without worrying that I was disturbing any other patrons or distracting the musicians. They told me and asked me such marvelous things, all of which I normally would have prevented them from uttering during a performance. Sam turned to me at one point and said "thank you for bringing us here." Oh, my goodness! Was I that grateful, that thoughtful, when I was nine? I attended a lot of concerts growing up, and I do remember being particularly thrilled to see Yitzhak Perlman at Carnegie Hall at about that age, but did I thank my parents? I hope so, but I am not sure I did. Isaac was even able to lie down on the carpet and stretch out during an adagio movement, without bothering a soul.
Mainly because they had loved sitting right in front of Suzanne Bona last weekend while she played Griffes and Vivaldi with the Seven Hills Sinfonietta, they agreed to stay for the post concert discussion she was moderating between Paavo, the guest soloist, Jean-Yves Thibaudet, and the audience. They chose not to ask any questions themselves, but afterwards, said how much they had learned from the questions other people had asked. Afterwards, Suzanne asked Isaac, who takes piano lessons, what orchestra instrument he thought he might want to play, and he said either bassoon, violin, guitar, trombone or piccolo, but he doesn't like instruments that make very loud sounds. As we walked away he said to me, "oops, I forgot to mention flute, but I am also considering that." Duly noted.
Leaving the building, I saw that I had gotten a text from Max, delighted to share the news that he had taken his dad (at my suggestion) to Trader Joe's, so that he would not have to eat at a restaurant for his every meal. Sweet.
On the way home, I was so distracted by Lalo's Symphonie Espanol on the radio that I inadvertantly drove into Kentucky as a little detour. The boys noticed my error as we were crossing the Ohio River and gently pointed it out, both with a great sense of humor, telling me stories about mistakes their Daddy had made, so that I wouldn't be too hard on myself.
We had a great time this evening reading aloud from a crazy wonderful book, after which they were very good about going to bed. I feel so incredibly blessed. You have no idea what gifts these children give me every day, how they help me to see the world with more wonder and joy than I would without them. I go to bed tonight so very grateful to have them here with me.
Saturday night, we took Sam and Isaac to see Max perform in a musical at the high school, and my favorite part was watching all my boys hug each other after the show was over. They congratulated their big brother, so proud of him, and it seemed he really appreciated their being there. Today, after Sunday school and lunch, I took Sam and Isaac to our beautiful Music Hall for a Cincinnati symphony concert. Paavo later explained that the Grieg piano concerto had been, when he conceived of the program, the "Scandanavian sorbet" between two French courses: the Dutilleux 1st symphony and the Bizet 1st Symphony. We heard only the Grieg and the Dutilleux, but that itself was a gift, because the shorter program meant there was no intermission to tempt us with leaving before the concert was over, as we have often done in the past.
One of the boys had the brilliant suggestion, right before the concert began, of our moving up to the empty front balcony and looking down on the stage, which made it possible to answer all their wonderful whispered questions from behind my program, without worrying that I was disturbing any other patrons or distracting the musicians. They told me and asked me such marvelous things, all of which I normally would have prevented them from uttering during a performance. Sam turned to me at one point and said "thank you for bringing us here." Oh, my goodness! Was I that grateful, that thoughtful, when I was nine? I attended a lot of concerts growing up, and I do remember being particularly thrilled to see Yitzhak Perlman at Carnegie Hall at about that age, but did I thank my parents? I hope so, but I am not sure I did. Isaac was even able to lie down on the carpet and stretch out during an adagio movement, without bothering a soul.
Mainly because they had loved sitting right in front of Suzanne Bona last weekend while she played Griffes and Vivaldi with the Seven Hills Sinfonietta, they agreed to stay for the post concert discussion she was moderating between Paavo, the guest soloist, Jean-Yves Thibaudet, and the audience. They chose not to ask any questions themselves, but afterwards, said how much they had learned from the questions other people had asked. Afterwards, Suzanne asked Isaac, who takes piano lessons, what orchestra instrument he thought he might want to play, and he said either bassoon, violin, guitar, trombone or piccolo, but he doesn't like instruments that make very loud sounds. As we walked away he said to me, "oops, I forgot to mention flute, but I am also considering that." Duly noted.
Leaving the building, I saw that I had gotten a text from Max, delighted to share the news that he had taken his dad (at my suggestion) to Trader Joe's, so that he would not have to eat at a restaurant for his every meal. Sweet.
On the way home, I was so distracted by Lalo's Symphonie Espanol on the radio that I inadvertantly drove into Kentucky as a little detour. The boys noticed my error as we were crossing the Ohio River and gently pointed it out, both with a great sense of humor, telling me stories about mistakes their Daddy had made, so that I wouldn't be too hard on myself.
We had a great time this evening reading aloud from a crazy wonderful book, after which they were very good about going to bed. I feel so incredibly blessed. You have no idea what gifts these children give me every day, how they help me to see the world with more wonder and joy than I would without them. I go to bed tonight so very grateful to have them here with me.
Friday, March 12, 2010
tonight's gratitude (shabbat shalom)
Shabbat shalom, friend.
May you find rest and peace on this day.
May you find the quiet that allows you to look within.
May you come to see yourself as the holy being I know you to be.
My friends, you are so beautiful to me that you strain my heart with holding all the love I have for you. If you walked with me this week, or had coffee with me, ate with me, sang with me, prayed with me, cried with me, corresponded with me, made music with me, or painted with me this week, know that I love you beyond measure.
Would that I were strong enough to carry all your burdens for you and lighten your worry. Would that I could find the words to inspire and comfort and direct you towards true and lasting happiness.
But your happiness comes from within.
You must find it for yourself.
I will be here, waiting to dance with you in joy, to sing you a song of triumph, to paint you a banner of jubilation.
I pray for you to understand that you are divine, that you are connected to all the infinite love and wisdom in the universe. You are limitless. You are strong, courageous and wise enough to conquer every challenge that confronts you. You have everything you need within you and around you. Tap into it. Use it. Become all that you can be. I can see it in you. Won't you please see it, too?
May you find rest and peace on this day.
May you find the quiet that allows you to look within.
May you come to see yourself as the holy being I know you to be.
My friends, you are so beautiful to me that you strain my heart with holding all the love I have for you. If you walked with me this week, or had coffee with me, ate with me, sang with me, prayed with me, cried with me, corresponded with me, made music with me, or painted with me this week, know that I love you beyond measure.
Would that I were strong enough to carry all your burdens for you and lighten your worry. Would that I could find the words to inspire and comfort and direct you towards true and lasting happiness.
But your happiness comes from within.
You must find it for yourself.
I will be here, waiting to dance with you in joy, to sing you a song of triumph, to paint you a banner of jubilation.
I pray for you to understand that you are divine, that you are connected to all the infinite love and wisdom in the universe. You are limitless. You are strong, courageous and wise enough to conquer every challenge that confronts you. You have everything you need within you and around you. Tap into it. Use it. Become all that you can be. I can see it in you. Won't you please see it, too?
my chakra journey continues
Today, we had our last in an annual series of yoga classes devoted to each of the seven chakras, the distinct energy centers of the human body. We focused our meditation and practice on the crown chakra, which extends up from our head and connects us with the consciousness of the universe. That may sound strange, pretentious or even ridiculous to some people who are not familiar with the idea, but because I have been reading, thinking, sitting and walking with this very concept for some time now, I arrived at Shine this morning eager to embrace it fully and with gratitude.
Wendy did not let me down. She led a beautiful class - I almost called it a service - encouraging us to increase our awareness of this universal connection we all have with the energy outside us, and also, the divine energy within each of us. It is all the same, really. That which connect us to one another is ultimately the one energy from which we emanate and to which we return. We are each a repository of that energy. Everything we do is a manifestation of energy - whether it is holding a yoga pose, making love, baking a cake or playing a concerto. Because each individual is unique, each thing we do expresses our individuality, our selfhood. And just as we can look around the yoga studio and see that everyone's triangle pose is different from everyone else's, we can (or could, until recently, perhaps)recognize every recording artist by their distinctive singing voice. But the pose and song are made possible by connecting with and channeling the univeral energy that begins coursing through us some time shortly before we are born into our bodies.
I became really aware of being surrounded by universal energy when I "did" The Artist's Way (by Julia Cameron) a couple of years ago. I had bought the book many years ago, but never committed to following the 13 week program; it sat on a series of bookshelves as I moved from Mt. Lookout to Clifton to Detroit to Williamsburg to Symmes Township to Wyoming, Ohio. But my friend, Maggie, noticed that I was getting a bit off course creatively during the recession and suggested I grab the book, dust it off and give it a go. Immediately, I began noticing synchronocities - one of the ways the universe sends us messages to guide us in using our gifts and learning our lessons. We see things clearly by using our third eye - the sixth chakra - but we "get it", as in "aha!" by activating our seventh chakra. This happens for me when I sit down and record my observations in writing. Through the practice of writing daily "morning pages" before we are even fully awake, as Ms. Cameron prescribes in her book, the seventh chakra is engaged. We may suddenly realize that what happened yesterday happened for a reason. Hopefully, after some meditation, some more writing, and perhaps, some further experience and observation, we may figure out what that reason is.
So, as I complete this beautiful and enriching series of yoga classes, I find myself just double digit hours away from beginning my course in reiki training. I am so eager to explore the chakras in a way that may enable me to heal others, as I myself was healed about 13 years ago, before I even knew what a chakra was. I didn't need to know what it was then, nor to understand the process. But because my friend, Andrea, sent a gifted energy healer to me, a woman who survived a near death accident and emerged from a coma with a new ability to heal, I was able to reclaim my musical life, my romantic life, my creativity, my happiness. I was able to let go of much of my anger, bitterness, regret and resentment. It was as close to beginning my life over again as anything I have ever experienced, before or since. Two days later, I met my husband, after we had lived in the same neighborhood and frequented the same coffee shop for well over a year. I know that because of the healing I had just experienced, I was just then ready to connect with the energy emanating from Paul, and he was receptive to the energy emanating from me. The thought that I might be able to do anything that powerful for someone is too overwhelming to process. It is my intention simply to enter this training Monday without expectations, but with an open mind and a willing heart. Naturally, I will let you know how it goes.
Namaste
(meaning, most sincerely, that the divine light and energy within me recognizes the same within you)
Wendy did not let me down. She led a beautiful class - I almost called it a service - encouraging us to increase our awareness of this universal connection we all have with the energy outside us, and also, the divine energy within each of us. It is all the same, really. That which connect us to one another is ultimately the one energy from which we emanate and to which we return. We are each a repository of that energy. Everything we do is a manifestation of energy - whether it is holding a yoga pose, making love, baking a cake or playing a concerto. Because each individual is unique, each thing we do expresses our individuality, our selfhood. And just as we can look around the yoga studio and see that everyone's triangle pose is different from everyone else's, we can (or could, until recently, perhaps)recognize every recording artist by their distinctive singing voice. But the pose and song are made possible by connecting with and channeling the univeral energy that begins coursing through us some time shortly before we are born into our bodies.
I became really aware of being surrounded by universal energy when I "did" The Artist's Way (by Julia Cameron) a couple of years ago. I had bought the book many years ago, but never committed to following the 13 week program; it sat on a series of bookshelves as I moved from Mt. Lookout to Clifton to Detroit to Williamsburg to Symmes Township to Wyoming, Ohio. But my friend, Maggie, noticed that I was getting a bit off course creatively during the recession and suggested I grab the book, dust it off and give it a go. Immediately, I began noticing synchronocities - one of the ways the universe sends us messages to guide us in using our gifts and learning our lessons. We see things clearly by using our third eye - the sixth chakra - but we "get it", as in "aha!" by activating our seventh chakra. This happens for me when I sit down and record my observations in writing. Through the practice of writing daily "morning pages" before we are even fully awake, as Ms. Cameron prescribes in her book, the seventh chakra is engaged. We may suddenly realize that what happened yesterday happened for a reason. Hopefully, after some meditation, some more writing, and perhaps, some further experience and observation, we may figure out what that reason is.
So, as I complete this beautiful and enriching series of yoga classes, I find myself just double digit hours away from beginning my course in reiki training. I am so eager to explore the chakras in a way that may enable me to heal others, as I myself was healed about 13 years ago, before I even knew what a chakra was. I didn't need to know what it was then, nor to understand the process. But because my friend, Andrea, sent a gifted energy healer to me, a woman who survived a near death accident and emerged from a coma with a new ability to heal, I was able to reclaim my musical life, my romantic life, my creativity, my happiness. I was able to let go of much of my anger, bitterness, regret and resentment. It was as close to beginning my life over again as anything I have ever experienced, before or since. Two days later, I met my husband, after we had lived in the same neighborhood and frequented the same coffee shop for well over a year. I know that because of the healing I had just experienced, I was just then ready to connect with the energy emanating from Paul, and he was receptive to the energy emanating from me. The thought that I might be able to do anything that powerful for someone is too overwhelming to process. It is my intention simply to enter this training Monday without expectations, but with an open mind and a willing heart. Naturally, I will let you know how it goes.
Namaste
(meaning, most sincerely, that the divine light and energy within me recognizes the same within you)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
yoga with my seven year old
so, if I say to Isaac, "reach back and find your foot", well, I know better than to say that now, because he will say "Mom, I know where my foot is!"
that's great, but my absolute favorite quote is from three legged down dog, when one leg is extended up and bent, and you tip over a bit for a good stretch. To encourage maximum stretching, I say to Isaac, "look under your right armpit" and then, when I look over at him, he's looking down. So, I repeat this, sweetly, like this: "Isaac, look under your armpit, honey" and he says, so aggravated with me for messing with him "I looked already, and there's nothing there!"
that's great, but my absolute favorite quote is from three legged down dog, when one leg is extended up and bent, and you tip over a bit for a good stretch. To encourage maximum stretching, I say to Isaac, "look under your right armpit" and then, when I look over at him, he's looking down. So, I repeat this, sweetly, like this: "Isaac, look under your armpit, honey" and he says, so aggravated with me for messing with him "I looked already, and there's nothing there!"
about that huge canvas up there...
It's been too long since the open air studio has gotten any use. Alison reminded me that we began gathering there exactly two years ago, and in honor of that anniversary, she came by with her watercolor set and some daffodil inspiration. I hauled outside the enormous canvas that the amazing Zsofi found for me at auction - was it really $12, Zsofi? - which has spent the winter loitering up against every wall of my kitchen. I finally know what I want to put on it, and even though it looks somewhat like a page out of a giant coloring book right now, I am so happy to be working on it, to have begun. How can you be anything but happy when you have an hour to spend with a great friend in great weather, with paint!?
Monday, March 8, 2010
today's gratitude
is first, for a friend who, although nearly 20 years older than I, can totally kick my butt in her ballet class. As I was writing this post, she wrote to say that I inspire her, so that makes us even, I guess. Thank you, Jane!
but more deeply, I am grateful today for the amazing internet which connects us and has shrunk our social world down into a quite huggable size.
Wow. It is quite amazing.
I know that it was supposedly created either for the distribution of porn or to build a network to combat global warming, but once you figure out how to make it work for you, well, my goodness, there is just no end to the images, the information, and especially, the people you can reconnect with...
I admit that, like many people in his exclusive age group, my 99 year old former violin teacher does not do email, but that is because he is just too busy, still teaching, bless him!
My other former violin teacher, however, who is about the same age as my current ballet teacher, is all over the net and emailed me back immediately with a very enthusiastic response when I wrote to her recently to thank her for all that she did for me as a child and young teen.
You all know what a big fan of expressing gratitude I am. It makes my day to be able to give thanks, not just to the universe, to the Source, but also to people who make and have made my life better. So, as I fought back pre-performance jitters yesterday, I thought I'd issue a brief note of thanks to an exceptional person who graced my life during college.
As I sat, sipping coffee, anticipating my first orchestra concert since 1993, when a Usdan summer camp anniversary reunion brought us to Carnegie Hall for a celebratory performance, I was thinking back to all of the fine conductors I have ever had the experience of playing with. And even though I have been very privileged in that department, it was easy to pick out my favorite. Even though I was fortunate to enjoy Eugene Kahn's leadership in JOLI, and Martin Dreiwitz's in LIYO, Burton Kaplan's with Manhattan Downeast Chamber Orchestra, and got to spend a summer in Vermont under the baton of Eugene List, and was invited to play Mahler under Otto Verner Muehler as a guest with the Yale Orchestra, my very favorite conductor was the one who led the Bach Society Orchestra my freshman year at Harvard. No, it wasn't Alan Gilbert; I missed working with him by a year, because my boyfriend persuaded me to quit the orchestra in order to spend more time with HIM during my senior year. (If you don't know, Alan has gone on to become the Maestro of the NY Philharmonic. So, yes, I'm a bit sad to realize I threw away that opportunity, but I am hardly entitled to much of a pity party. Honestly now.)
But anyway, my favorite conductor was Sam Wong. And even though I found it personally rewarding to work for hours, even days on end to send an email to my father that will never be answered, I must tell you that nothing internetty really holds a candle to sending an email to a long lost friend you think has forgotten you, only to discover that he hasn't.
Being told you are remembered like it was yesterday never gets old.
So, anyway, I wanted to share my happiness about that. :)
Another reflection I have had since receiving Sam's response is that we never know how people feel about themselves, deep inside, and that it very often does not match up with what they project outwardly, or what we project onto them. This may seem obvious, cliche, even trite, but it feels very powerful to me, and I expect I will continue to sit with it for some time. It also leads me back into my memoir work, which is beginning up again in earnest, so much so, that if you do not see a daily posting here, know that I am redirecting my writing energy toward that project so vigorously that there is just no time left to blog. You may assume that I am well, or else I would be here, blogging my gratitude, if for no other reason than it helps, like nothing else I know how to do, to get me back into a positive frame of mind.
I leave you with the hope that this inspires you to reconnect with someone you've been thinking about. Look them up and let them know what a gift they are.
Namaste
but more deeply, I am grateful today for the amazing internet which connects us and has shrunk our social world down into a quite huggable size.
Wow. It is quite amazing.
I know that it was supposedly created either for the distribution of porn or to build a network to combat global warming, but once you figure out how to make it work for you, well, my goodness, there is just no end to the images, the information, and especially, the people you can reconnect with...
I admit that, like many people in his exclusive age group, my 99 year old former violin teacher does not do email, but that is because he is just too busy, still teaching, bless him!
My other former violin teacher, however, who is about the same age as my current ballet teacher, is all over the net and emailed me back immediately with a very enthusiastic response when I wrote to her recently to thank her for all that she did for me as a child and young teen.
You all know what a big fan of expressing gratitude I am. It makes my day to be able to give thanks, not just to the universe, to the Source, but also to people who make and have made my life better. So, as I fought back pre-performance jitters yesterday, I thought I'd issue a brief note of thanks to an exceptional person who graced my life during college.
As I sat, sipping coffee, anticipating my first orchestra concert since 1993, when a Usdan summer camp anniversary reunion brought us to Carnegie Hall for a celebratory performance, I was thinking back to all of the fine conductors I have ever had the experience of playing with. And even though I have been very privileged in that department, it was easy to pick out my favorite. Even though I was fortunate to enjoy Eugene Kahn's leadership in JOLI, and Martin Dreiwitz's in LIYO, Burton Kaplan's with Manhattan Downeast Chamber Orchestra, and got to spend a summer in Vermont under the baton of Eugene List, and was invited to play Mahler under Otto Verner Muehler as a guest with the Yale Orchestra, my very favorite conductor was the one who led the Bach Society Orchestra my freshman year at Harvard. No, it wasn't Alan Gilbert; I missed working with him by a year, because my boyfriend persuaded me to quit the orchestra in order to spend more time with HIM during my senior year. (If you don't know, Alan has gone on to become the Maestro of the NY Philharmonic. So, yes, I'm a bit sad to realize I threw away that opportunity, but I am hardly entitled to much of a pity party. Honestly now.)
But anyway, my favorite conductor was Sam Wong. And even though I found it personally rewarding to work for hours, even days on end to send an email to my father that will never be answered, I must tell you that nothing internetty really holds a candle to sending an email to a long lost friend you think has forgotten you, only to discover that he hasn't.
Being told you are remembered like it was yesterday never gets old.
So, anyway, I wanted to share my happiness about that. :)
Another reflection I have had since receiving Sam's response is that we never know how people feel about themselves, deep inside, and that it very often does not match up with what they project outwardly, or what we project onto them. This may seem obvious, cliche, even trite, but it feels very powerful to me, and I expect I will continue to sit with it for some time. It also leads me back into my memoir work, which is beginning up again in earnest, so much so, that if you do not see a daily posting here, know that I am redirecting my writing energy toward that project so vigorously that there is just no time left to blog. You may assume that I am well, or else I would be here, blogging my gratitude, if for no other reason than it helps, like nothing else I know how to do, to get me back into a positive frame of mind.
I leave you with the hope that this inspires you to reconnect with someone you've been thinking about. Look them up and let them know what a gift they are.
Namaste
Sunday, March 7, 2010
morning gratitude
morning yoga in a sunny living room
while Karen Johns' "Saprema" floats over me
and the smell of chocolate croissants baking
wafts in from the kitchen
while Karen Johns' "Saprema" floats over me
and the smell of chocolate croissants baking
wafts in from the kitchen
Saturday, March 6, 2010
today's gratitude (random selection)
my gratitude cup is brimming over today; I don't know where to begin...
I am thankful today for the third daily dose of sunshine in a row - can anyone remain unaffected by this?
for the wonderful people I continually meet and discover in this strange and endlessly surprising little city I live in
for Lynne Hugo, who believes in me, and is therefore working to help me get my memoir ready for publication
for the many adventures I continue to have in my life and the many lessons I learn along the way
for hyacinth bulbs poking out of the dirt
for coffee, cheesecake and wine
for being invited on the first bike ride of the season by my children
for being able to accept their invitation
for labrador retrievers
for the Seven Hills Sinfonietta, with whom I am performing for the first time tomorrow
for my friend, Susan, who is going to take my younger kids to Graeter's during the second half of the concert so they don't OD on sitting still
for my husband, who allowed me to sleep through Isaac's 4 - 5 AM stomachache-based visit this morning, so that I could be awake for the dress rehearsal today
for the friends who are planning to attend tomorrow's concert, and those who only wish they could
for my home, which is ready to greet Spring with a mural on its exterior (today was the first time I had seen it without expecting to, from atop a bicycle seat, and it made me giggle)
for the wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh, whose words now add meaning to virtually every one of my visits to the master bathroom
for my snuggly little boys
for music
I am thankful today for the third daily dose of sunshine in a row - can anyone remain unaffected by this?
for the wonderful people I continually meet and discover in this strange and endlessly surprising little city I live in
for Lynne Hugo, who believes in me, and is therefore working to help me get my memoir ready for publication
for the many adventures I continue to have in my life and the many lessons I learn along the way
for hyacinth bulbs poking out of the dirt
for coffee, cheesecake and wine
for being invited on the first bike ride of the season by my children
for being able to accept their invitation
for labrador retrievers
for the Seven Hills Sinfonietta, with whom I am performing for the first time tomorrow
for my friend, Susan, who is going to take my younger kids to Graeter's during the second half of the concert so they don't OD on sitting still
for my husband, who allowed me to sleep through Isaac's 4 - 5 AM stomachache-based visit this morning, so that I could be awake for the dress rehearsal today
for the friends who are planning to attend tomorrow's concert, and those who only wish they could
for my home, which is ready to greet Spring with a mural on its exterior (today was the first time I had seen it without expecting to, from atop a bicycle seat, and it made me giggle)
for the wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh, whose words now add meaning to virtually every one of my visits to the master bathroom
for my snuggly little boys
for music
Thursday, March 4, 2010
tonight's gratitude (sharing the love)
If you read this blog ten days ago, you know I recently had a weekend full of powerful insights about love while I walked and sat in snow covered silence at Hope Springs. I came away with the intention of writing love letters to both my parents. I began by embroidering a positive meditation, or prayer, on my pants: May I be able to recognize and touch the seeds and joy and happiness in myself. I re-read the words of essential truth that had come to me during the silence, and I wrote them here. I meditated on the idea that when one person hurts another, it may come out of their own suffering, perhaps out of suffering they experienced as a child. Then, I meditated on each of my parents as children and I felt that they were hurt by not getting the love that they wanted or needed.
I spent many hours since then writing to my parents. Someone protective of me asked me why I was doing this, and I replied "because I have the power to." Previously, I had believed myself incapable of completing such a task. For several years, I had allowed my heart to be clouded by anger. I thought I was unable to express love for my parents without saying something negative to overshadow it, thus inviting more anger and negativity upon myself. This week, I proved all that to be untrue. On Monday, I mailed my mother a memo pad that was one half-full of handwritten, loving thoughts. I left the other pages blank. Today, remembering that he has asked many times not to communicate to him by letter, I sent a long and loving email to my father. I expect that my communication to them arrived at roughly the same time.
In these notes to my parents, I was able to share with them all my happiest memories of being their child. I edited out all mention of anything painful I experienced as their child, from which, I am deeply grateful to be able to say, I have already grasped meaning and wisdom. I recalled every birthday gift they gave me from about the age of nine. I acknowledged many of the kindnesses and sacrifices they made on my behalf. I reminisced about our sweetest moments together, places they took me, activities they did with me, experiences they provided. I articulated what I loved most about them. I told them what makes me think the most fondly of them today. I defined what made me most proud of them when I was growing up. I described how they had most enriched my life. I listed the positive ways they have influenced my parenting. I tried to let them know, in the sincerest way I could, that I know they gave me everything they possibly could have.
I found this experience far less difficult than I imagined it would be. I am both blessed and cursed with a powerful memory, and found I needed to edit out about 60 to 80 percent of what popped into my head in order to accomplish the goal I had set for myself. But having done it, I realize what an act of self-love it really was. I recognize and exult at the celebration of love that it represents. And I recommend this practice to each and every one of you.
Think of someone for whom it is very difficult for you to feel love in any sustainable way. There is doubtless someone important in your life, or in your past, who lives according to a set of values that you abhor, perhaps someone who is deeply critical of some of the significant choices you have made in your life. They do not understand the way you live. You, in turn, wonder why they are the way they are. My suggestion to you is to try to meditate about them. As you sit peacefully, send them some love from your heart. Remember that love is both free and infinite. Then, when you are fully alert, try to write down all the positive things you can possibly say about this person, past or present. You may find that you have given yourself a great gift. You may want to share it. I am glad that I did.
As a result of this exercise, I am happy to discover that I actually feel better about my parents. I feel more grateful for them than I did before. I realize that the pain they caused me did not occur because I was lacking in some way, or less than I should or might have been. I better understand that my parents really and truly loved me the best way they knew how, and that eveything they did was done with good intentions. I feel more peaceful, more well being, less anger and less hurt because I was able to sit with these loving thoughts, cataloguing the love I received from my parents, and the love I felt and feel for them.
I spent many hours since then writing to my parents. Someone protective of me asked me why I was doing this, and I replied "because I have the power to." Previously, I had believed myself incapable of completing such a task. For several years, I had allowed my heart to be clouded by anger. I thought I was unable to express love for my parents without saying something negative to overshadow it, thus inviting more anger and negativity upon myself. This week, I proved all that to be untrue. On Monday, I mailed my mother a memo pad that was one half-full of handwritten, loving thoughts. I left the other pages blank. Today, remembering that he has asked many times not to communicate to him by letter, I sent a long and loving email to my father. I expect that my communication to them arrived at roughly the same time.
In these notes to my parents, I was able to share with them all my happiest memories of being their child. I edited out all mention of anything painful I experienced as their child, from which, I am deeply grateful to be able to say, I have already grasped meaning and wisdom. I recalled every birthday gift they gave me from about the age of nine. I acknowledged many of the kindnesses and sacrifices they made on my behalf. I reminisced about our sweetest moments together, places they took me, activities they did with me, experiences they provided. I articulated what I loved most about them. I told them what makes me think the most fondly of them today. I defined what made me most proud of them when I was growing up. I described how they had most enriched my life. I listed the positive ways they have influenced my parenting. I tried to let them know, in the sincerest way I could, that I know they gave me everything they possibly could have.
I found this experience far less difficult than I imagined it would be. I am both blessed and cursed with a powerful memory, and found I needed to edit out about 60 to 80 percent of what popped into my head in order to accomplish the goal I had set for myself. But having done it, I realize what an act of self-love it really was. I recognize and exult at the celebration of love that it represents. And I recommend this practice to each and every one of you.
Think of someone for whom it is very difficult for you to feel love in any sustainable way. There is doubtless someone important in your life, or in your past, who lives according to a set of values that you abhor, perhaps someone who is deeply critical of some of the significant choices you have made in your life. They do not understand the way you live. You, in turn, wonder why they are the way they are. My suggestion to you is to try to meditate about them. As you sit peacefully, send them some love from your heart. Remember that love is both free and infinite. Then, when you are fully alert, try to write down all the positive things you can possibly say about this person, past or present. You may find that you have given yourself a great gift. You may want to share it. I am glad that I did.
As a result of this exercise, I am happy to discover that I actually feel better about my parents. I feel more grateful for them than I did before. I realize that the pain they caused me did not occur because I was lacking in some way, or less than I should or might have been. I better understand that my parents really and truly loved me the best way they knew how, and that eveything they did was done with good intentions. I feel more peaceful, more well being, less anger and less hurt because I was able to sit with these loving thoughts, cataloguing the love I received from my parents, and the love I felt and feel for them.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
today's gratitude (railing against homophobia)
Oh, I'm very grateful today all right. I'm grateful that what is pissing me off has no direct impact (technically speaking) on my household, on my children. I am grateful not to belong to a particular group against which blatant discrimination is tolerated, accepted, promoted. No, I am not counting being Jewish or female, not today. Ok, so, at least two groups of people I belong to do get discriminated against. A great deal, come to think of it. But I'm aware today of how fortunate I am that nobody in charge in this conservative little county I live in thinks I ought not to be allowed to take care of, or make decisions for, my children, on the basis of my choice of domestic partner. I know that I am damn lucky that I was able to choose to end my first marriage and then free to choose whom I married next, and that neither of these choices had any affect on my ability to rent an apartment, purchase a home, or parent my child.
The fact that this is not the case for any other parent is just unacceptable. I have faith that someday we will be so ashamed of this long dark chapter in our nation's history. But sadly, I do not see that day fast approaching.
"Gay" and "queer" are still socially acceptable epithets. However, calling someone out for being homosexual when they are not is punishable by law. Because we straight people must all have special protection against such a heinous slur, right? Well, yes. Because a false accusation of being homosexual could cause a straight person to lose her job, her status in the community, even custody of her children.
Some black people say that if you are a white person and you are not in the trenches, fighting to eliminate white privilege, then you are part of the problem. As an all-people-loving white person, not only do I think this is bull@%*#, and that we should each be judged as part of the problem only if we contribute to the problem or are stubbornly insenstive to the problem, but also, I think the the fact that some white people give credence to this way of thinking is proof that racism, racial slurs, and discrimination on the basis of race are less socially acceptable than discrimination against people because of their sexual orientation. Not to mention that black citizens can marry anyone they want in any state of this nation, so long as they are not of the same gender. And I don't think we are about to elect an openly gay President. Our politicians do not resign from office for adultery; they resign when they are caught being gay.
I hear that open antisemitism is lately becoming chic again in some circles, but I will save that rant for another day. I know there are many hate groups of all kinds all around this great democratic nation of ours. But I am not focusing on the Klu Klux Klan or the Neo Nazi movement right now. Because even though these groups may be more prevalent than they were twenty years ago, they are not accepted by mainstream society. Being homophobic is socially acceptable in far to much of our society. For men, it's considered manly to mock more effeminate men for being "gay". For women, it is a convenient defense mechanism when a man is "just not that into you" and deriding lesbians as "butch" is comforting for women who are insecure about their own femininity.
My question today is simply this: when will homophobia finally be as abhorrent to this nation as racism is? When will our military stop dismissing selfless heroic officers from its ranks on the basis of the gender of the person or people with whom they would prefer to sleep? When will we stop debating whether gay couples can marry? And when will parents' fitness cease to be judged on this basis?
I promise you this: there are a lot of abusive straight parents out there with full and unfettered access to the tender hides and psyches of their children. Yet, the prejudice of our nation and its courts gives a great benefit of the doubt to a married heterosexual pair of parents, and presents all manner of obstacles to letting any of us parent outside that model.
Women who want to emancipate themselves and their children from the slavery of an abusive marriage are commonly punished by the courts with poverty, and it is in this state of poverty that they must bear the burden of proving that their ex-husband should have less than unsupervised access to the children produced during the marriage. But the women who choose to emanicipate themselves from all heterosexual marriage, and subsequent to divorce, embrace a lesbian lifestyle, sometimes in response to longstanding abuse by a man or men, bear an even heavier burden to bear. Not only can a homophobic court impose a punitive level of poverty onto a lesbian mother, but it can rescind custody from that woman for no other reason than the fact that the next partner she chooses to love is a woman.
I am sick to death of this, and I am in the trenches today trying to help change this state of affairs, at least as it relates to one friend and her children. There is an interesting assumption I am reminded of today, and there has always been this assumption, whenever I have taken mouse, pen or phone in hand to inquire into these matters: that I am gay. One organization actually refused my offer to volunteer to work on their behalf a few years ago, because I am not a "member" of the GLBT community. That is very sad. Much like the black Americans who were recently persuaded by a right-to-life organization that Planned Parenthood is out to exterminate black America by aborting its babies, groups that have suffered systemic discrimination can be wary and suspicious of outside help, to their own detriment.
Be that as it may, I cannot and will not sit by while this travesty is played out in my local courts. I may not be a member of the Ohio bar, but I am a citizen of this democracy and a member of this community, and I will make my voice heard. Thanks for reading my warm-up here. I am grateful for this forum.
The fact that this is not the case for any other parent is just unacceptable. I have faith that someday we will be so ashamed of this long dark chapter in our nation's history. But sadly, I do not see that day fast approaching.
"Gay" and "queer" are still socially acceptable epithets. However, calling someone out for being homosexual when they are not is punishable by law. Because we straight people must all have special protection against such a heinous slur, right? Well, yes. Because a false accusation of being homosexual could cause a straight person to lose her job, her status in the community, even custody of her children.
Some black people say that if you are a white person and you are not in the trenches, fighting to eliminate white privilege, then you are part of the problem. As an all-people-loving white person, not only do I think this is bull@%*#, and that we should each be judged as part of the problem only if we contribute to the problem or are stubbornly insenstive to the problem, but also, I think the the fact that some white people give credence to this way of thinking is proof that racism, racial slurs, and discrimination on the basis of race are less socially acceptable than discrimination against people because of their sexual orientation. Not to mention that black citizens can marry anyone they want in any state of this nation, so long as they are not of the same gender. And I don't think we are about to elect an openly gay President. Our politicians do not resign from office for adultery; they resign when they are caught being gay.
I hear that open antisemitism is lately becoming chic again in some circles, but I will save that rant for another day. I know there are many hate groups of all kinds all around this great democratic nation of ours. But I am not focusing on the Klu Klux Klan or the Neo Nazi movement right now. Because even though these groups may be more prevalent than they were twenty years ago, they are not accepted by mainstream society. Being homophobic is socially acceptable in far to much of our society. For men, it's considered manly to mock more effeminate men for being "gay". For women, it is a convenient defense mechanism when a man is "just not that into you" and deriding lesbians as "butch" is comforting for women who are insecure about their own femininity.
My question today is simply this: when will homophobia finally be as abhorrent to this nation as racism is? When will our military stop dismissing selfless heroic officers from its ranks on the basis of the gender of the person or people with whom they would prefer to sleep? When will we stop debating whether gay couples can marry? And when will parents' fitness cease to be judged on this basis?
I promise you this: there are a lot of abusive straight parents out there with full and unfettered access to the tender hides and psyches of their children. Yet, the prejudice of our nation and its courts gives a great benefit of the doubt to a married heterosexual pair of parents, and presents all manner of obstacles to letting any of us parent outside that model.
Women who want to emancipate themselves and their children from the slavery of an abusive marriage are commonly punished by the courts with poverty, and it is in this state of poverty that they must bear the burden of proving that their ex-husband should have less than unsupervised access to the children produced during the marriage. But the women who choose to emanicipate themselves from all heterosexual marriage, and subsequent to divorce, embrace a lesbian lifestyle, sometimes in response to longstanding abuse by a man or men, bear an even heavier burden to bear. Not only can a homophobic court impose a punitive level of poverty onto a lesbian mother, but it can rescind custody from that woman for no other reason than the fact that the next partner she chooses to love is a woman.
I am sick to death of this, and I am in the trenches today trying to help change this state of affairs, at least as it relates to one friend and her children. There is an interesting assumption I am reminded of today, and there has always been this assumption, whenever I have taken mouse, pen or phone in hand to inquire into these matters: that I am gay. One organization actually refused my offer to volunteer to work on their behalf a few years ago, because I am not a "member" of the GLBT community. That is very sad. Much like the black Americans who were recently persuaded by a right-to-life organization that Planned Parenthood is out to exterminate black America by aborting its babies, groups that have suffered systemic discrimination can be wary and suspicious of outside help, to their own detriment.
Be that as it may, I cannot and will not sit by while this travesty is played out in my local courts. I may not be a member of the Ohio bar, but I am a citizen of this democracy and a member of this community, and I will make my voice heard. Thanks for reading my warm-up here. I am grateful for this forum.
Monday, March 1, 2010
tonight's gratitude (why massage?)
is for the self confidence and inquisitiveness that enable me always to try new things, or at least to consider trying new things with an open mind.
Tomorrow I am going to visit and tour the Ohio School of Medical Massage. To be honest, I have been thinking about going for years now. Every time I get a massage, I interview the masseuse about her life, her training and her career. If you don't already know, I am rather strong. My hands are strong, decorative painting, violin playing, yoga-asana-holding hands. My arms are long, strong, flying trapeze arms. I love helping people feel better; I am a healer by nature. And I'll admit that I am amused by imagining my parents' reaction to the news that their daughter is a licensed massage therapist.
I've been envying Lori her journey as a yoga instructor lately, but somehow I do not think that is one of the stones on my path. At least not now.
Before this, I was considering becoming a rabbi, but slowly I realized that I did not want to belong to that many people. Also, I started paying attention to rabbis' lives in a whole new way, and realized I rather like mine they way it is.
I am considering how much of a professional music career I may still want to pursue at my ripe old age, or whether my current eclectic musical activites are sufficiently satisfying.
I do know I want to do more with my gifts, and I have been feeling like the decorative painting chapter has been trying to let me close it for some time now. I do a great deal of amateur counseling and people frequently joke about paying me for the time we spend over cups of coffee. I have been thinking lately that I want to develop those skills that I already have into a legitimate business of some sort. I'd love to develop a situation where I can offer a person some combination of massage therapy, past life regression meditation and intuitive counseling.
So, this is where I am in my life exploration this week, as I finish painting the sets for my son's High School show, attend a board meeting for the Reform Jewish High school, rehearse with the Seven Hills Sinfonietta for this weekend's concert, and consider whether to adopt a two year old rescued labrador retriever, and cook adventurous new vegetarian recipes for my family.
Namaste, y'all.
Tomorrow I am going to visit and tour the Ohio School of Medical Massage. To be honest, I have been thinking about going for years now. Every time I get a massage, I interview the masseuse about her life, her training and her career. If you don't already know, I am rather strong. My hands are strong, decorative painting, violin playing, yoga-asana-holding hands. My arms are long, strong, flying trapeze arms. I love helping people feel better; I am a healer by nature. And I'll admit that I am amused by imagining my parents' reaction to the news that their daughter is a licensed massage therapist.
I've been envying Lori her journey as a yoga instructor lately, but somehow I do not think that is one of the stones on my path. At least not now.
Before this, I was considering becoming a rabbi, but slowly I realized that I did not want to belong to that many people. Also, I started paying attention to rabbis' lives in a whole new way, and realized I rather like mine they way it is.
I am considering how much of a professional music career I may still want to pursue at my ripe old age, or whether my current eclectic musical activites are sufficiently satisfying.
I do know I want to do more with my gifts, and I have been feeling like the decorative painting chapter has been trying to let me close it for some time now. I do a great deal of amateur counseling and people frequently joke about paying me for the time we spend over cups of coffee. I have been thinking lately that I want to develop those skills that I already have into a legitimate business of some sort. I'd love to develop a situation where I can offer a person some combination of massage therapy, past life regression meditation and intuitive counseling.
So, this is where I am in my life exploration this week, as I finish painting the sets for my son's High School show, attend a board meeting for the Reform Jewish High school, rehearse with the Seven Hills Sinfonietta for this weekend's concert, and consider whether to adopt a two year old rescued labrador retriever, and cook adventurous new vegetarian recipes for my family.
Namaste, y'all.
today's gratitude (basic tools of parenting)
for my sense of humor
for patience
for perspective
please, never raise children without these three tools!
for patience
for perspective
please, never raise children without these three tools!
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