last month

happy holidays and peace!
haven't been online in a while, but i've been writing stuff on my laptop at home. here is some of it...


thr dec 21st 2006

why just ask the donkey?
(from The Gift, by Hafiz)

why
just ask the donkey in me
to speak to the donkey in you,

when i have so many other beautiful animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
that are all longing to say something wonderful
and exciting to your heart?

let's open all the locked doors upon our eyes
that keep us from knowing the Intelligence
that begets love
and a more lively and satisfying conversation
with the Friend.

let's turn loose our golden falcons
so that they can meet in the sky
where our spirits belong
necking like two
hot kids

let's hold hands and get drunk near the sun
and sing sweet songs to God
until he joins us with a few notes
from his own sublime lute and drum.

if you have a better idea
of how to pass a lonely night
after your glands may have performed
all their little magic
then speak up sweethearts, speak up,
for hafiz and all the world will listen.

why just bring your donkey to me
asking for stale hay
and a boring conference with the idiot
in regard to this precious matter-
such a precious matter as love,

when i have so many other divine animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
that are all longing
to so sweetly
greet
you!


tue dec 19th 2006
i haven't written in a while. various reasons for that. so i'll throw myself in it and start somewhere in the middle:

i've been sick for the past two weeks. it's very unusual for me to be sick for this long. usually it's one or two days and then i'm back. this time, every time i got better, i started doing too much too soon and then i got sick again and was forced to stop. my body is very wise that way. always makes it very clear when i need to stop and rest. i started off with a breast infection, brough on by lack of sleep and not drinking enough water. that fet awful for one day but got better quickly. just when i was starting to feel back to normal again, i got a stomach virus, something i've never had in my life, but have heard many stories about. so now i can say, based on my own experience, that it's very nasty. just an awful feeling of nausea, achiness, and general discomfort. after a few days this too got better, but by then sena and aiyana both had colds, which i soon got as well.

so as always, when i'm sick, i start realizing how amazing it is to be healthy, to be able to do whetever i want without any inconvenience or pain.
the funny thing is that this whole time that i was sick, i had this feeling that there's a reason why i'm sick. that this is some kind of cleansing for my body. there are many traditions and rituals in which one cleanses and purifies their body in order to be more clear-sighted, clear-minded, more open to insight, intuition and stuff of that nature. one amazing thing that happened is that being sick made me unable to have coffee anymore. not that coffee is bad or anything, but for me, it was a habit that i wanted to get rid of. it was my big addiction, and i felt that it controlled me too much. i'd love to have a cup of coffee now and then, but i don't want my thoughts and actions to be ruled by whether i had my coffee yet or not. i was thinking about all of this before i got sick, thinking of what i could do to give up the addiction. i've tried so many times and never really succeded. this time, i didn't make any plans as to how i was going to do it. i just put the thought out there, just stated the intention that i'd like to give it up. and then forgot about it. until i got sick and discovered that i can't have coffee anymore. the crazy thing is that even though my body was nauseous at the thought of coffee, my mind still wanted the ritual of my daily cup. so i tried having it anyway, had a couple of sips and ended up pouring the rest out.

the other thing that happened while i was sick was that i had a lot of dreams. i almost don't want to write about this for fear of what it's going to sound like. fear that it may make me seem ...crazy, or ridiculos, or i don't know what...
well, whatever, i'll put it out anyway.
in one of my dreams, i was taking a history test. it was a multiple choice, but i hadn't been to class the whole semester and i had no clue about the material the test was on. i felt really nervous, as i scanned the first few questions. i thought "i don't know any of this, so i might as well pick answers at random, and i may get some right by chance". i was panicking, going through the questions as quickly as possible,trying not to waste any time. then all of a sudden, something clicked and i felt...clarity. i was calm, no longer paniking or rushing. i realized that the answer to each question was right there, in front of me, embedded within the question itself. i felt a great relief, a great sense of ease and well-being. most of all i felt that i had the knowledge i needed, and because of this i was freed - freed from fear or control that others may impose on me.

i woke up with a deep sense of well-being, and realized that this dream concretized a feeling that's been budding inside me for some time. the feeling that the answers i seek in my life are accessible to me, embedded within the circumstances in which they occur, and part of my being. that all i need to do when i need guidance (instead of deffering to authority or power figures) is to pay attention and be receptive, and the answer will become evident with time.

i feel like my dream life has taken on greater and greater proportions over the past few years. i love my dreams and find them invaluable. they provide guidance when i need it, and give insight into important parts of my life. like the dream i described above, they give bring out a deep seated sense of confidence. and also, some of the most amazing and most intense feelings i've ever had have been in dreams. and whatever we may argue about dreams, there's no denying that the feelings that come up are real.

fri dec 1st

some things come around full circle. time spirals back on itself, and you find yourself at a place you're already familiar with, revisiting. things are the same as you remember, and yet they are so different. i've experienced this a few times in my life: when i taught english as a second language; when i tell my children bed-time stories that i was told as a child; or in this situation:

my family used to go to the Black Sea almost every summer in Romania. this is how we spent our vacation. i loved this get-away and anticipated it with excitement, especially when my cousins came along too. i knew that we'd have lots of fun playing on the beach and in the water. and i also looked forward to staying in a hotel and seeing all the foreigners.

"the foreigners" were something quite special. we only saw them at the seaside - people vacationed here from all around Europe and other parts of the world. lying on the beach, i could hear different languages being spoken around me. i didn't really understand any of them, but this didn't make things any less exciting. it was such a thrill to be around these people; to see them walk, talk, eat, lie on the beach, or do anything they were doing. i (and many other romanian people) was studying them with a curiosity often bordering on awe. they seemd amazing and had all these cool things: clothes, gadgets, etc. everything about "the foreigners" was of great interest. the adults among us tried to be discreet and only stole furtive glances when the person being studied wasn't looking. but we, kids, were flat out staring at them. until someone shouted at us to stop.

one time at the beach, a foreign couple sat close my family. they were young and, to me, beautiful. they didn't speak much to each other. at one point, the woman sat up on her towel, and pulled a small plastic bag out of her beach bag. it was filled with candy. my eyes widened as i stared at it. it wasn't just the candy; it was the wrappers that i found amazing. they were beautiful, shiny and brightly colored. some had foreign writing on them. had she offered me a candy, i would've carefuly taken off the wrapper, stretched it out and saved it in a special place, such as in between the pages of a book. it would've gone in my collection of cool things and would've made a valuable trading / show-off piece for my friends back in Bucharest.

another time, i was in the lobby of the hotel we were staying at. i was alone, probably waiting for my parents and cousins to get ready for super. i noticed a woman: middle aged, blond, and a foreigner. i thought that i heard her speak english. i had some knowledge of english, from school and from private lessons. i felt compelled to say something to her. to speak to her, even just a sentence, would be the ultimate. i mentally prepared myself to speak to her, rehearsing my one line that i was going to say over and over, without losing sight of her. i felt so nervous and so excited. i knew i had to do it. so when she came out of "the shop" (a little convenience store in the hotel lobby that only accepted foreign currency), i walked up to her and said "what is the time?". that was it. then she said "something,something..o'clock". and i walked away. i was so excited i was shaking.

20 years later, ed and i were travelling in the Yunnan province of china. we were in Tin City, one of the bigger cities we biked through on that trip. we took a break from biking and spend 2-3 days relaxing and enjoying the comforts of city life. on our first day in Tin City, we walked around looking at things, and noticed 2 school girls looking at us. although they tried to be discreet while observing us, it was obvious they were very excited at their discovery of us, two foreign tourists. we walked and they walked some distance away from us, but still in sight. we went into a store, and when we came out, there they were, waiting for us on the sidewalk. they giggled nervously, then one of them addressed us. it was just a few simple questions, like "where are you from" and stuff like that. but it was obviously very exciting for them to speak to us. we did our best to answer so that they could understand, and we conversed for a few minutes. when we left, they followed us from a distance for some time.

i saw myself in them - their gestures, their excited interest, their shyness. i remembered how special it was for me to speak to the english woman years before, and how special i thought that she was. how different from me and the people i knew. now, as the 2 girls spoke to us, i didn't feel like i was anything special at all. i knew that they were seeing me as a symbol, not as a person, like i had done when i was in their shoes, years before.

i wonder what that woman i spoke to when i was a kid thought of me. did she think i was cute, trying to practice my broken english? did she think i was an anoyance, another kid staring too much; was she afraid that i was going to ask for money, like i am sometimes when scraggly looking kids come up to me in foreign countries? and did she know what she represented for me at that time?

i guess i'll never know how she felt... i can only speak for myself: meeting the two girls in china made me feel like i have lived both sides of the story. gave me a nice sense of wholeness. and closure.

random stuff

just some random stuff i wrote over the past 2 weeks or so...

----------

in the woods,
stones lay unmoved
huge rocks, and ledges
reflect the sunlight
they're simply there,
reassuring in their presence

the trees are bare
gray-brown, twisted branches
holding abandoned nests of
the past summer

the birds are gone
except for crows and turkey vultures
maybe a handful of others

the air is clean and sharp
cold, crisp, easy to breathe

the woods are silent

it is late fall and
everything's withdrawing

this silence,
the starkness of it all...

i let myself merge into this emptiness
and find nature at its barest
surprisingly soothing.

--------------

the river speaks to me
but i forgot its language

the wind whispers its secrets
but i'm too rushed to hear

the rocks, unmoved, lay it all out
but i'm not looking

the trees invite me to go closer,
but for some reason,
i don't

some days, i look for what i need
in all the wrong places
i look through books and such
while the real thing is obviously here,
simple, understated, eternal

maybe,
i'm just afraid of what might happen
when there's nothing left to look for

--------------------

i'm afraid that
if i bid by heart's calling
(if i merge with the river,
or listen to the wind
for instance)
i will be too alone
unable to relate,
too happy among unhappy people

so i go on,
pretending to be searching
for meaning and for joy,
the things we all dream of
while i know all enough
the Treasure Box is empty.

the treasures have been given
for all to share and enjoy
a long, long time ago

yet, i persist in searching,
pretending not to know.

---------------------------

wed nov 22nd

for a while now, i've been feeling something that's hard to describe. maybe longing, or nostalgia. a drawing in, and at the same time, a need to reach out.
the knowledge of something i can't fully articulate, but something that makes me very happy nevertheless.

something that's reflected, for example, in the story of singing whales, which i've been reading to sena over and over again. this story brings me so much joy. imagining whales way out there in the ocean, living and communicating in ways that are so far beyond human understanding - knowing that we are related to them in some distant way - this is so mysterious and so beautiful, and it makes me so happy.
or the story of a little island, which as the fishes know, is not an island at all, not isolated as we seem to think, but rather part of everything else in ways that are just not obvious to us humans.

i feel my own connection with everything growing stronger, even as i'm drawing in more and more. it makes me so happy to feel this way, but sad that i can't find ways to share it with others. we are in the holiday season, and lots of people are celebrating. i want to celebrate too. i want to celebrate being a part of everything. i want to give my thanks to the earth, to nature... but i don't feel that i can easily do that in the current format of the holidays.

something is calling to me. or maybe i am calling out to something. i don't know. being in nature, witnessing the understated beauty of it all around me at this time of year, these are the things that bring me happiness and hope at this time. these are the things i'd like to share.

peace

my grandmother's birthday

my grandmother's birthday was a few days ago, nov 23rd. she turned 92, and is in great shape, living on her own, doing her thing. i wrote a little something about her a few weeks ago, so this may be a good time to share it...

--------

i'm sitting on the ground at the labyrinth. the sky is gray, overcast, but it's not too cold. the trees have lost almost all their leaves. aiyana's sleeping in the car. i am wrapped tightly in my scarf. perfect time to be quiet and turn inwards.
i'm thinking about her again. i miss her. it started when i walked in the general store this morning and saw an old lady, wearing a green dress, an old tattered sweater, and thick-rimmed glasses. she held the door for me. seeing her sent the pain of longing and recognition all through me. i imagined her alone, in romania, and hoped that the autumn has been mild.

i have so many memories about my grandmother (mamaia). mostly sensory memories. like when she, roxi and i would lie down at night, barely fitting into the single bed. we'd have to lie head to feet so we could all fit. my grandmother's feet were very rough, with thick calluses and large, protruding corns. feet with lots of character. not pretty, but real. feet that hed been through life. my feet are getting to be that way now.

we'd lie there and i could feel my grandmother's soft, heavy body. her clothes, mended over and over. the faint cooking smells that were just part of her. her breath always smelling of garlic (she ate raw garlic every day). safety, comfort, security - home. we'd say "tell us a story", and she'd start. as soon as she finished one, we'd say "tell us another". she'd keep going until we fell asleep. sometimes she'd fall asleep first, but then we'd wake her and say "more" so she'd keep going. she told stories from her life, as a child, as a young woman, as a mother. she'd tell us stories of when my sister and i were babies and she was caring for us. sometimes she'd invent stories, about little girls getting lost and others i can't remember. i loved all of them. i'd ask her to tell them over and over again, even though i knew them by heart.

stories are powerful. other than shared experience, i think they're the most powerful thing to bring people together. now i tell my daughters stories before falling asleep at night. we all lie down and i tell one story after another. when i stop, sena says "another one", and i keep going until i get too sleepy and i tell her "this will be the last". i tell them stories from my life, mostly from the time when i was young, growing up in romania. some stories are funny, most are sad, like the one in which my little yellow chick gets squashed, stepped over, as she tries to follow me around everywhere. i tell them about the times when i was mean, and did things i later regretted.

i want them to know that feeling i had when my grandmother was telling us her stories. it's funny how, after all this time, i get to experience the other side, get to be in her shoes as the story-teller, the provider of comfort and security.

one time, i was maybe 10, i came home from school very upset. i had gotten a bad grade on a test. i knew my dad would be mad at me, and i was scared. i came in the house, and told mamaia about it. i put down my school bag, sat down by the door and started to cry. she sat down next to me, and cried too. didn't solve anything, but made me feel so...not alone. this is how she was.

then, when i was becoming a teenager, just before leaving for canada, i lost interest in mamaia's stories. the more i started to doubt myself, to compare myself to others and find myself lacking, the more unhappy i became and the harsher i was with her. suddenly, i found all these faults with her. she was dirty, her advice was ridiculos, she exagerated too much, etc. she could not do much to please me those days. i'd yell at her a lot, and she'd cry and i just thought that she was weak - it was her problem. i needed to feel that i was right, that i was in control and she was an easy target. those days, i was mostly living out of my head, and my heart was becoming more and more closed with fear and insecurity. i looked everywhere for something to make me feel better, and mamaia no longer had it, or rather, i didn't want it from her. we left romania when i was 14. she stayed.

after many years, i started feeling better about myself, being gentler with myself and others. i've been thinking about mamaia again. especially after having children, i'm appreciating more and more how much she did, being there for us every day, when my parents could not. i regret, of course, how i treated her just before we left. all i can do is hope that she knows that when i was unhappy, i hurt the most the people i loved the most. a constant theme in my life, maybe other people's lives as well.

mamaia is not perfect. nobody is. she's not all goodness and sweetness, whatever that is. she can, for example, tell lies to get herself out of uncomfortable situations; and other things.
she is a soft, heavy woman, who spent a lot of time loving us. she gave us of herself, which is the most you can ask of somebody. that's why old women with thick glasses and tattered sweaters will always stir that soft, powerful longing inside of me.

peace

no.2

(sun nov 11th 2006)

now that i think of it, it seems that no. 2 has been a constant theme throughout my life. it started early in my childhood, in school.

in romania, at the end of each school year, we had a prize-giving-ceremony. first, second and third prize. these were supposedly based on your academic achievement; and maybe a little on your "behaviour", meaning how well you conformed. but there where other factors that came into it, as we all knew: how well your parents knew the teachers, how many presents and favors they did for them, the degree of influence your parents held in the communist party, things of that nature.

nevertheless, the end-of-the-year festivities were something we all took very seriously. it was a great honor to win the first prize. i almost always got the sencond. which, to me, was more of a humiliation that if i hadn't gotten anything at all. at least that would've been more anonymous (although it would not have gone over too well with my parents). but second prize put the spotlight on in a way that made me very uncomfortable, showing everyone that i just wasn't "as good". so every time i had to step up to the make-shift podium to receive my prize (a flower wreath on my head, a package containig 2 or 3 politically correct books, and a bouquet of fresh flowers), i did so trying my best to hold back the tears.

one year, i remember, i refused to go. it was too hard, so i just stood in my room in front of the window, looking at the festivities from afar. it just happened that our apartment faced right into the school yard where the ceremony was taking place. i stood there and felt free to cry for once. my mom and dad felt sorry for me and try to reassure me that 2nd prize was okay; they convinced me to go to the cerremony, which i did with a heavy heart, as usual.

so it could've been that my academic achievement was not good enough to win first prize; or that my parents didn't make enough effort to engratiate themselves with the teachers; maybe i did not have the right attitude to quite make it; whatever it was, the reasons did not matter. more than anything else at that time, i wanted to win first prize, i wanted to be popular, i wanted recognition, and i was devastated each year when i did not get it.

years later, although in not as obvious a fashion, i was still trying to be no.1. just something i had to get out of my system, i guess. so when i got my first "real" job, it was great to enjoy a few months of recognition and popularity, while everyone was impressed with my talents and efforts. that is until someone else came along - she was also ambitious, she was also really good, she was a nice person, good looking, fit, etc. etc - everything i didn't want her to be. she got slightly more attention than i did. i could not believe i was going through this again. there were days i'd come home and cry, wishing all the possible ills on her, wishing that she'd just disappear and let me enjoy some of my own spotlight for a while. when this did not happen, we became friends. i got to know her, got to like her (a lot), got to see what everyone else saw in her. this was a little disturbing. i wanted to hate her - it was much more clear cut that way. it helped that i eventually left the country. that way, i did not have to compete with her anymore. i could just like her and be friends without being threatened.

today, i'm trying to piece all this into a (weird) nap-time story for my 3-year-old daughter. don't know why it's coming back to me at this time. maybe it's all the rain, the way it makes me feel. in any case, i have no idea where the story will go as i am telling it. maybe i just want to voice some of the feelings i left unspoken all these years, in an unthreatening environment (how much more unthreatening can you get than a sleepy 3-year-old?). maybe i want to warn my daughter, plant an early seed, so that through my experiences she may see the waste of competitiveness and ambition; maybe if she lives these things through my stories she will be spared unnecessary pain.

maybe it is just that i needed to realize that there is, after all, one thing i'm number one at: i'm number one at being myself. which sounds a little dumb, so maybe i should say instead that numbers just don't matter so much anymore.

maybe being no.2 was an unrecognized blessing all these years, because it forced me to move on, to keep looking. it made me search for something authentic, something meaningful, and lead me to realize that recognition and authenticity occur together only accidentaly. had i received first prize and the recognition i wanted, i may have felt content to take on the role of "best student", or whatever, pigeonholed by somebody else's definition and their expectations. maybe i would've stopped hurting, stopped searching, in short, stopped living an authentic life. or maybe, this is all about sour grapes.

in any case, what's for sure is that on this wet rainy day, it feels sweet to simply acknowledge these things and to realize that somehow, somewhere along the way they lost their power over me.

hiking last week

nothing to say

there's nothing to say
but here i am,
trying to say it

in theory i know
that truth cannot be spoken
yet here i am, compelled
to speak my kind of truth

push-pull,
this is how it is

peace

this is how my past week went

this is a really long posting...in case you have nothing better to do. stuff i wrote over the past week starting with most recent...

tue nov 7th 2006

yesterday i said i needed to laugh. today, i need to cry. and to laugh. and a shower, and some time to brush the huge knots out of my hair would be nice too. but those are optional.

ed was in class until late last night, so by the time he got home, the girls and i were in bed. this morning, he left extra early to vote, so when sena woke up at 6:30 he was no longer there. so i got up with her and snuggled on the couch. my whole body seemed tight and stiff. fortunately, since sena was still tired, i got to stretch a little while she was still on the couch. but soon enough she wanted to read, and then aiyana woke up, and our day began for real. things were ok, but i could feel myself tense, on edge.

my friend jennifer started a new yoga class today, community yoga, where anyone can come, including kids of all ages. i really wanted to support her effort, esp since i thought this was such a great idea. so i planned to go with both my kids and see how it would work out. we made it there by 9:30, just in time to set down our blankets and settle in a little bit. jennifer is very flexible, and of course she did not expect this class to be like any other typical yoga class, where only adults participate. she has 3 kids and knows how things go. she requested only 2 things: that kids don't run around (they could play if they wanted to, sit on their blankets, do yoga w their parents, etc); and that they do not scream.

well, we did ok in the beginning, but as time went on, sena became more and more rebellious, running around and disrupting everyone. i felt bad about this and tried to talk to her. sparing details, suffice it to say that things got worse and worse and in the end i had to walk outside with sena screaming in my arms, without my shoes or any of my stuff, and with aiyana trailing behind me, holding on to my pants. all i wanted at this point was to put sena in the car, but i could not find my key, so things were pretty crazy. then one woman came out and said, it's ok, nobody minds the screaming, don't feel bad, and i was thankful but all i could to is try not to break down in front of this nice lady. then, when my friend jennifer came out to see if everything is ok, i really lost it, and burst into tears. i told jennifer to go back to her class, and she said she'd stop at my house right after.

i finally got sena in the car, slammed the door and let her cry in there. i had so much anger and frustration, all i wanted to do is hit her. nothing else would do. but i could not do it, although i did grab her arm a lot harder than i would've otherwise, and kind of threw her in her carseat instead of putting her in nicely. i started pacing around the car and crying, barefoot in the parkinglot, aiyana walking behind me. i really wanted to hit something, or someone, sena most of all. yet even in my rage, i could see clearly that this was not all about sena, or all about today. sena was the spark that lit the fire in this particular instance, but the feelings that were taking ove me went deeper than what happened today. they had to do with being tired, with still having a hard time being a parent. having a hard time walking that fine line, where you want to give so much of yourself and still maintain some sanity and some integrity of your own person. the funny thing with kids is that there's no perfect formula, no lasting solution. as soon as you figure out something that works, you can be sure that things will change, the kids will outgrow the previous phase and you have to start all over again, figure out how to deal with this new dynamic in the best possible way. being a parent requires so much grace, and some days i feel like i am the clumsiest mother, stumbling around in the dark.

so anyway, eventually, i made it back home. still could not stop crying and was still really upset at sena. could not deal with her, so i left her in her carseat for a while. she wasn't crying anymore, but i could not bring myself to console her, so the best i could do was not to yell at her or yank her. aiyana came w me in the house. i called ed and told him what happened, and he was sympathetic, but what could he do? got off the phone, cried some more. i just had so many tears, seemed like they would not stop. i guess i was feeling sorry for myself. i knew that i wanted something or someone to take this out on, and at the same time, i knew that i just had to cry, because there's nothing to resolve, just these feelings that i have to deal with. eventually, i guess i cried enough and i stopped.

i took sena out of the car and we snuggled together on the couch. i said sorry for roughing her up, and i told her how i felt. she said that she just wanted to run. in retrospect, going to yoga this morning was a bad idea. i feel like i set sena and myself up for what we got; sena's three, so of course she's going to run. and since i wasn't feeling at my best or my strongest or whatever to begin with, i should've just let it go. oh well, i'll know for next time.

eventually jennifer came over and took sena to her house to play with her daughter. this gives me a break, and i only have aiyana to look after right now. she just fell asleep in the car, so i pulled the car into a cemetary and here i am sitting on the grass writing this. i already feel so much better. crying and writing really help me. it's also gorgeous outside today, sunny and warm. my head feels lighter, and maybe i'll even get to stretch a little before aiyana wakes up. funny enough i already miss sena. makes me want to cry again just thinking about her. i want to give her the best i am, but it's so hard to be that all the time. some part of me feels like i'm doing permanent damage to her and to our relationship when i act like i did this morning. yet i also know that it's important for her to see me as a real human being; i don't want to pretend that my feelings are not what they are, and put up a false image for her. i want her to see me for who i am, dealing with good and bad feelings the best i can. i just hope that when i deal with the hard stuff it doesn't get too painful for either one of us.

(later....)

i got to do some yoga while at the cemetary. what a release!!! probably one of the best yoga sessions i've ever had. i didn't even have to think or try to do one pose or another. they just came to me on their own, my body taking one shape after another. i really needed this. i felt so much better at the end, that i started to run around, skipping and flying among the tombstones (is that disrespectful? i hope not). fortunately, it was just me and the dead. aiyana was still sleeping in the car nearby. so i wasn't too self conscious or afraid of looking ridiculos. i felt so good skipping and running around, flapping my arms and twirling. for one minute it was like i was really going to take off and fly, just like it happens in my dreams. what a crazy day!

peace

mon nov 6th 2006

i feel so exhausted today. so heavy...like everything is weighing me down. my head feels heavy, my eyes feel like they just want to close. my body is so heavy, i could just fall on the ground and curl up for a while. blew up at sena this morning, and i feel bad about it. she was an easy taget, and the way i felt, it didn't take much to push me to the point of blowing up.

but somehow we managed to get out of the house and go to my friend patty's house. two other friends showed up, so we were 4 women and 4 little girls. we were helping patty stack some wood in her back yard. being with my friends was really nice, because they made me laugh and by the time we were done stacking, my head felt a lot lighter. the physical work, and being outside also helped. afterwards, we had a great lunch and patty got her hot tub going outside. it would've been really nice to be able to jump in, but by the time the water was ready, aiyana was too tired and needy to let me get in. so i didn't get to do it this time...

we left patty's house and sena and aiyana fell asleep in the car. so that gives me a little break...and here i am writing.

one of the hardest things about this heavy feeling is that i don't feel like doing any of the things that i know would help - like exercise, or whatever, because they require too much effort to begin with. all i want is some quiet time.
it was so interesting being with my friends - i noticed how almost everything i said was negative. i started telling them a story i read about this woman who was abused as a child, and her mom knew about it but she did not stop it. then i asked myself, why am i telling this story? but then the next thing i said was also negative. i kept going like that for a few minutes, till i said: ok, i'm not saying anything anymore, cuz all i seem to get out is this stuff that's going to drag everyone down. and it's such a beautiful day, and my friends were in such a good mood. so i'd rather hang out and enjoy their positive energy rather than get everyone down with my heaviness. then my friend jennifer said, why don't you, for the next 5 minutes, just say all the negative stuff you want to say? and just thinking about it made me laugh so much, that i just kind of forgot, or something changed, or whatever, and things took a different turn.

on a day like today, it's not that i want someone to solve my problem, cuz i don't even know if there is a problem; it's not that i want any solutions; i don't even want sympathy actually; i think that what i mostly need from people is sensitivity and a good sense of humor. maybe a few minutes to stretch, or do something nice for myself. and that should be enough.

fri nov 3rd 2006

these days, i've arrived at a new definition of strength:

Strength is knowing how to laugh / Strength is knowing how to cry.

of course it is many other things as well. but for me, right now, this is the most applicable.

and in a very different vein, here are some things i like:
first, an excerpt from "Thunder, Perfect Mind" (isn't that a great title?)

For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter...

I am she whose wedding is great,
and I have not taken a husband.

I am the barren one,
and many are her sons....

I am knowledge and ingnorance...

I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear....

I am foolish and I am wise.....

I am the silence that is incomprehensible....

I am godless and I am one whose God is great...

I am the utterance of my name.

(quoted in "the Gnostic Gospels" by Elaine Pagels)
------------------------------------------

sometimes, i like to recite poetry out loud to myself. but i only do it with poems i really like, ones i read over and over in silence before. like this one, by Rumi:

A necessary autumn inside each

You and i have spoken all these words, but as for the way
we have to go, words

are no preparation. There is no getting ready, other than grace. My faults

have stayed hidden. One might call that a preparation!
I have one small drop

of knowing in my soul. Let it dissolve in your ocean.
There are so many threats to it.

Inside each of us, there's continual autumn. Our leaves
fall and are blown out

over the water. A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks
about what's gone. Then

your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the
scent of hyacinth and rose

and cypress. Joseph is back! And if you don't feel in
yourself the freshness of

Joseph, be Jacob! Weep and then smile. Don't pretend to know
something you haven't experienced.

There's a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again.
Very little grown on jagged

rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up
where you are. You've been

stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.

(from The soul of Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks)

halloween party

my first halloween party - i had a great time.
kids had fun too - sena really wanted to be a butterfly, so grandma made her a beautiful costume. aiyana was a lion. not sure she knew the difference, but i think she enjoyed the festive atmosphere at the party...

stories

lately, i've been telling lots of stories. my family got into this habit, and now, before we go to sleep, we all lie in bed and tell stories. we take turns. first ed, then i, and sometimes even sena. she tells her own stories, which are a combination of my stories with ed 's and with stuff that happened to her during the day. sometimes she adds fantasy too.

storytelling is a great art. i learnt it from my grandmother. i'm not very good at it, but the nice thing about stories is that it doesn't matter too much. anyone can be a storyteller, i think, as long as they speak from the heart.
another grat thing about stories is that they make things come alive and make us feel connected in a way very few other things can. recently, for example, i've been telling sena stories about stanton. stanton's been dead for 2 years now, and i must admit that i haven't thought of him much being caught with daily life. i mean i feel that he's still part of me, but i just don't consciously think of him that much. but now that i'm telling stories about him, about the first day we brought him home, or the time he got sick, etc, i feel that he's alive again. i feel very close to him, and i feel that the stories themselves keep him alive in some way. what's really nice and unexpected is that sena now started talking about him as if she really knew him. she'll tell me something about him out of the blue, and she'll say that he's her dog. it just makes me feel really nice that she loves him even though she's never met him.

i also tell my daughters stories about my life in romania - things that happened as i grew up, with my friends, my grandmothers, my cousins, etc. sometimes, as i speak, the story takes over me, and i start reliving it. i don't have to make any effort to remember what happened or make the it go a certain way. it seems that all i have to do is start and then things go by themselves. the story tells itself and sena, aiyana and i just enjoy. i don't think that aiyana understands the content of the story yet. but i know that she feels comforted and safe as she listens, because as soon as we start she becomes very relaxed and falls asleep.

i know well that soothing quality of a person's voice as they tell a story. i remember it from my grandmother who always comforted us to sleep with her own stories. (i actually a wrote about her recently - i may post it sometime.)
i think my grandmother would be happy to know that some of the stories i tell sena and aiyana are ones she told my sister and i when we were young. some are from her own childhood. i can see now how amazing oral traditions must have been. not only do they keep things alive, but in the process they provide a bond between people, that i don't think can be matched by written stories or other media. when i read a book for example, or see a movie, the story itself can definitely draw me in; but to feel an actual bond with the person who wrote the story or made the movie, to feel connected w them on a personal, intimate level, that is rare.

there are lots of stories that i have, so far, kept to myself. stories that want to be told, just waiting for an open heart and a certain level of maturity.
when i grow up, that's what i want to do: tell stories.

peace

sena - a quiet moment

autumn tears

mon oct 22nd 2006

wrote these over the weekend. felt very low energywise - all i wanted to do is lie in bed with a book or listen to some music or something like that. got a break on sunday, when i only had aiyana and she fell asleep, and that's when i wrote these.

(fall)

fall is a drawing in
back in
deep inside the core
where everything starts
and everything returns

the trees look bare
on the outside
all plants drawing their energy
into the roots
delicious roots
of carrots, daikon, burdock...

i follow their lead
through no choice of my own
i feel the same stirrings they do
take over my whole being...

these days i'm quiet
the outward exuberance gone
back into the depths
into that innermost part
that is my guide, my comfort, my home

don't look to the outside
what looks dead and withered
pulsates with life, with new potential
deep inside the core.

nurture that and
watch yourself transform

even as everything seems to be dying
the seed of new life sprouts on

-----------------
(why i cry)

today's the kind of day
when i feel so emotional,
so sensitive, that my eyes
are ready to fill with tears at any moment

i cry for nothing, no specific reason
i cry for everything

i cry for lost innocence,
for shattered dreams and hopes -
mine and yours.

i cry for the pain and beauty
that transformations entail -
the transformations we all, inevitably, go through

i cry for my mother's childhood,
for my father's dog that got run over
for my grandmother and her unfulfilled love

i cry for those i love and hurt

i cry for myself
for the love and fear i feel inside:
love drowning me, taking over
and just when i'm about to do its bidding
fear cutting me down, holding me back -
i cry for that struggle

i cry for those who suffer
and those who make them suffer

i cry for how we regiment, regulate love
the most important thing there is
like regimenting air,
the air we need to breathe

i cry for all of us
for how we go through life
blind, deaf, numb, hurt, scared,
missing it all

i cry for the beauty of the moments
the split-seconds when we wake up
when something touches us
and lets us know we're still alive

i cry for the deceits,
the let-downs,
the heart-breaks
that shaped my life

i cry for the moments when,
having been numb for too long,
i feel a stirring and,
taken by surprise,
i smile to myself in silence: "hey, i'm still kicking"

i cry for how perfect this is
when you can look at it
from a certain distance...

peace

quitting pratt

(written on mon oct 9th, 2006)

today, i quit pratt & whitney. i called my boss this morning, and confirmed that i will not be returning to work.
it's hard to describe how i feel. this was a big decision. working at pratt, being an "engineer" defined my identity for the past 10 years or so. i had a lot of problems with this "definition", and yet it felt so comfortable, so me....
you know, when you first meet someone and they ask "so what do you do", i'd say i was an engineer, and then most people would make up their mind, at least partly, as to who i am (i do that too, of course, just becoming more aware of it lately). that label is no longer available now that i quit and don't plan to claim it bak any time soon.

after speaking to my boss, i went to my sister's house to pick her up for a hike. driving there, i suddenly experienced this free-falling sensation that i get when something really good or really bad happens. this time, it was both, or neither. maybe it was just uncertainty.

pratt, and engineering, have been such a big part of my life. ever since i was very young, i was surrounded by engineers in my family: my dad, my aunts and uncles. the other half of my relatives were doctors. so when it came to choosing a career, my choice was doctor or engineer. i tried to get into medical school at mcgill and didn't, so engineering it was. engineering school was a fun (on a social level), and graduate school, although not as much fun, was great from another point of view - it's where i really got to love what i was studying, or at least part of it: like fluids, thermodynamics, etc. these things were fascinating, but, unfortunately they ended with gradschool. working in industry had little to do with what i learnt in my studies.

getting a job at pratt was very exciting at first, and although i realized very soon that you don't need a masters, actually you don't even need a batchelors to do my job (just a few month of training would suffice), i was nevertheless very enthusiastic about learning everything i was learning and working on engines. my enthusiasm elicited a lot of positive response from my colleagues and bosses, so i felt appreciated. money was good too, very good for my standards, so for a few years things were great. eventually though i started feeling restless and....bored. not to drag this on too much, i'll just say that with time, i lost a lot of interest. i also beagn to realize that the career paths available to me at pratt were not too interesting. i didn't care for the politics of the place at all, so anything to do with management left me cold. as for the technical side, i guess there would have been some possibilities, but for some reason i didn't get too excited. so i kept doing what i knew how to do for 10 years, until i got pregnant with sena and the rest has pretty much been maternity leave. i have to say though, that i'm really touched and, to be honest, flattered that even with all the leaves of absence and maternity leaves i've been taking lately, they still wanted me back and were disappointed when i decided not to return.

it's hard to picture myself not as an engineer though. what will i say next time someone asks me what i do? "i'm staying home taking care of my kids"?...you know what kind of response that usually elicits (i know bc i used to think that stay-home mothers just didn't have anything better to do, so they settled for this mind-numbing existence). but as i wrote in previous blogs, after 3 years of mothering, i've found that staying home with the kids is a lot harder and a lot better (in many different ways) than people generally think.

so, as i drove my car this morning, sena and aiyana happy in the back seat, another gorgeous fall day that we get to enjoy hiking and doing whatever we want, i felt this wave of joy rise up inside of me. and i felt free. finally, i did it - this thing i've been thinking of for years, yet never had the courage to leap into before. it seems like the gorgeous weather today is perfect for celebrating. celebrating the fact that i am giving myself a chance to live differently. to explore new possibilities. i already have several ideas, things i want to do, most of which there is no space in my life for right now, but just thinking about them, having the freedom to chose what i do with my time, is exciting. what's most amazing though is the release that comes as i realize that i can just live each day on its own terms, without any agenda, any plans, or any great expectations. without anyone telling me what to do, where to be, etc. just me and my kids living one day at a time, as we have been for the past year. this feels so good to me right now.

i'm starting to appreciate and enjoy living with uncertainty. trusting that when and if the day comes that i'll want to do something other than taking care of my kids, things will work out and i'll find something. it's funny how these cliches are so true, and we don't really appreciate them until our own experience validates them.- like the fact that although my job provided a lot of security, at the same time it took over so much of my life that it left me very little freedom...

needless to say that everything i've said here so far would be irrelevant if ed weren't supportive of my decision to stay home. and if our lifestyle weren't allowing us to live on one salary. but fortunately, we live well and are more than happy with one income; as for ed, to say that he's supportive is an understatement. he's always encouraged me to follow and do that which is most meaningful to me, and i try to do the same with him, and fortunately this has not changed since we had kids.

peace

pics from a hike

went hiking a lot last week. so gorgeous...
tried to capture some of it in pics - feeble attempt of course, but here it is..

aiyana is 1

Aiyana turned 1 year old yesterday. What a beautiful day! Just like last year at this time. At around 4pm, the time when I gave birth, I found myself sitting under the apple tree where most of my labor took place, just being quiet and enjoying the wind, the sun, and everything around me. It was so nice to have this gorgeous weather and reminisce.

Looking back, I think that in many ways, the last year has been the hardest and the best year of my life. The hardest because life with two little ones can get that way. Lack of sleep, having to be available day and night, living on the brink of chaos much of the time - this and everything else got overwhelming at times (quite a lot of times).

It’s been the best year for several reasons, none of which fully describes how I feel.
First, I because I felt and still do that what I’m doing really matters and makes a difference. It’s very obvious that if I’m there for my kids, physically, emotionally, and everything else, we’re all much happier.

Second, during the course of the last year I’ve been present more than ever before. I find that the difficulties I experienced and described before have the flip side of forcing one to be present. I just couldn’t live on auto-pilot anymore. Life got too intense, requiring awareness and attention. In that sense I feel that I’ve lived much more in the last year than in previous years of my life.

I’ve noticed many things that have always been there but passed me by before. Like the seasons, for example. Living where I do and being outside everyday, I feel that I’ve really experienced winter, spring, summer and now fall. I’ve seen the trees change with each season, always beautiful. Seen birds make their nestss in the trees near my house in the spring, seen the chicks grow during the summer and now I’m seeing the empty nests they left behind. It’s really amazing, and all these observations have gone deeper than what I perceived with my eyes or what I tried to convey in words. They’ve become part of me, or rather I became part of them. I really feel that I am connected to all these changing things, the trees, the birds, the wind. I’m shifting with them.

I’m noticing for example how the cooler fall weather makes me feel so clear headesd. Or how the full and new moon affect me each month. I’m noticing how all this amazing fresh food I’ve had this past year affects me, and I am so thankful to the earth and the people growing the food.

Another nice thing I experienced over the past year is inspiration. Lots of inspiration. In my attempt to keep sane and somewhat calm, I’ve searched and grasped at anything that gave me a new perspective, that inspired me, that allowed me to expand my being and breathe easier. Two great sources of inspiration have been reading and music. Just a few lines of Rumi at the right time made a huge difference. Or Pema Chodron. Or Osho. And so many others.

My main source of inspiration however, came from people. People I’ve known for some time, and some that I met in the past year. Knowing that I’m not the only one dealing with chaos, hearing other people’s stories and experiences, seeing them as they are, has made me feel much more relaxed about my own situation, and has made me appreciate and love these people more. Just a few words at the right time, spoken with love and understanding, have saved me from feeling miserable and depressed many times, especially when aiyana was very young and I was dealing with lots of changes and exhaustion.

I am thinking for example, of my friend and midwife, kim, who told me in her gentle, caring way, that it’s ok if I don’t get to brush my teeth, and there‘s dirty laundry all over the house. She said - just take care of yourself and the baby, and some day you‘ll get to the rest.

Or my friend Sue, who’s give me these amazing one liners over the phone. At one point, when I felt particularly crazy, she said: just write down 3 things that you’re grateful for at this moment. I did that, posted it on my fridge, and felt better, my focus shifted in a positive direction.

Or my friend Jennifer, who’s one of those people who are so beautiful, in every way, that everything they touch also becomes beautiful. And I mean everything. When Jennifer cooks, the food looks beautiful, decorated w edible flowers and leaves. Whe she sings, her voice is eerie, penetrating, disturbing in its beauty. When she draws, I can’t stop staring at what she makes. Just one of those women that I feel truly blessed to have in my life. Totally inspiring, life-affirming, creative, crazy.

My mom has also been really supportive since Aiyana‘s birth. Several times, she came and spent 2-3 weeks at a time with us, helping me w the kids day and night, giving me a huge reprieve. I remember one day, when both sena and Aiyana had fallen asleep and my mom said - just go and do something for yourself. I drove to the general store, got a tea, and sat down on one of the wicker chairs outside, reading a book. I felt so amazing, savoring this time, just sitting there in the warm spring sunshine… people coming in the store were even commenting on how content I looked. When I got home, I gave my mom a big hug, and I meant it, knowing that this is the best way to thank her and show her how much I appreciated her help.

I’ve come to know and love all these people and many more, and this is the best thing that happened out of all the crazyness that has been my life over the last year.

So now that I sit here and write this, I am realizing that if I had to live my life the way I’ve been doing in the past year, that’d be ok. I’ve been cleaning a lot of pee off the floor, been woken up in the middle of the night a lot more than I’d like, been taking care of myself less than I’d like, been frustrated and overwhelmed a lot, been crying, been yelling more than I’d like, been doing nothing out of the ordinary with my life - and I love it. I really don’t want anything more than to continue to appreciate whatever little moments life brings me. I’m not looking for a perfect life (anymore) - and realizing that is…delicious.

peace

pictures

here are a few recent pictures of us and some little things that caught my eye on these beautiful fall days:

laptop

(written tue oct 2nd 2006 - posted sometime later...)

i got a laptop. i am so excited, because here i am now, being able to write anywhere, not having to make any special trips to the library, my sister's house, etc. actually, we only have wireless internet connection, so i'll still have to go somewhere if i want to access the net, but this is still a great improvement.

i feel a bit funny when someone asks why we got a laptop, and i say it's because i wanted to make it easier to write. when i say that, people automatically have expectations about my writing, and that makes me uneasy. it actually makes me so inhibited that i can't write anymore.
for me, writing is very personal. it's a great release. i can't say that i don't care what people think about my writing, because, obviously i do, otherwise i wouln't be sharing it. and yet, paradoxically, the more i focus on what others think, the less i want to do it.

it's hard to sum up why i like it so much..... i guess for me, writitng is about sharing myself. it's also about finding out what's in my heart. somehow, as i write, if i'm in the right frame of mind, not thinking about how this will sound or how it will be received, things come up that i did not expect and did not know were even there. so writing is a kind of cleansing, that always leaves me feeling lighter and happier.

writing is also about creating intimacy. the intimacy i experience in my dreams at night. all my life, i've had these dreams that are so hard to wake up from bc they're so beautiful. they're beautiful bc regardless of the scenario, the basic theme that runs through them is love. this is going to sound so flaky, but anyway...
in my dreams, i receive so much love, usually in the form of one person, and i also give back love, in a way that is much more open, natural, and free-flowing than i've ever experienced in real life. these dreams penetrate my whole being, and stay with me for days... they are usually so soothing that it takes me at least an hour to be able to get myself to a state where i can function again in the "real" world, in the awake mode.

i guess writing is a little like that, mostly because it allows me to share what's meaningful to me in a safe way.
i hope that if i write about my life honestly and openly, others may find it nice to read.

on to other things...
yesterday, i spoke to my boss from pratt. i am supposed to go back to (paid) work this month, and he wanted to have an update from me. i told him i would not be coming back. i felt bad doing this, like i was hurting him personnaly. cliff, my boss, is an amazing person, very easy going, very understanding. i like him a lot. i wish i could've been speaking to him about other things, something more fun, more cheerful. he gave me a week to think over my decision, till next monday...
i have so many conflicting feelings about this decision, so much anguish. a while ago, i summed it all up like this:

asking for guidance
(as i ponder / dread returning to work)

so how much do i sell myself for
this time?

is 30000 or so enough?
half-time, plus benefits,
and a retirement plan...

is that enough
for all those silent mornings
broken only by sleepy yawns of my children,
that i will have to miss?

enough to compensate
for the weariness that i know
will come to inhabit my soul?

is it enough
for all this freedom
that i have come to feel
and take for granted:
freedom to paint,
draw
sing
dance
cook
watch the sky
and just be as i am?

i picture myself back at work:
sitting at my computer
staring at it, empty-eyed...

walking to the bathroom
tired of so much sitting,
to find sterility,
women putting on makeup,
garbage can full of slightly-used paper towels,
it almost hurts to look at all the waste.

i picture the people i work with:
i like them,
they like me.
together, we are prisoners
of the system...

they have to pay their bills:
mortgages, car loans, college tuition...
some have to pay the doctors' bills.
nothing's free here.

some simply like their work.
they take it seriously

i like my colleagues,
but i don't see them radiant, and i am not inspired.
i am not myself.

will 30000 be enough
to cover the loss of Rumi?
loss of time, which will inevitably mean
loss of Rumi
and many other things
which help me get transported
into that most alive part of myself?

as i write this,
it seems so clear
just what i should do.
yet with that clarity,
old fears creep back:
fear of being judged,
of being labled,
of not having a "real job" again.
fear of being in need
helpless in old age, without......... retirement income?...

this prison is my own creation
(with your help -
we all help each other that way)
it's time to let it go.

awakening to new possibilities....
----------------

peace

molting

the theme at our last women's circle, which was amazing / inspiring / etc.etc., was molting. this came up unexpectedly, as so many nice things do.

shandra, my neighbour and the woman who held the circle, has a pet terantula who molted a few days before we met. she brought the molt to the circle and presented it to us as we began. the molt itself was really cool, and had she not told us what it was i would've thought it was the real spider.

this, of course, sparked a lot of conversation about Henry, the tarantula, about other arachnids, insects, animals, and so on and so on, as new topics kept spinning off...
eventually, we thought that it would be nice to tie molting back to ourselves:
what, in our lives, would we like to molt? and what, if anything, would we like to replace it with?

we all took a few minutes of silence and sat with these questions. each of us then spoke and shared her thoughts into the circle when we were ready. as each woman spoke, nobody interrupted. we'd just let her speak and listen, and then, when she was done, we took a few minutes to sit with what had been said.

i can't share what the other women shared in the circle. but i can share my input and my impressions.

as the other women sat and thought, i, who was holding aiyana, who was getting very restless, walked in circles around a great big tree near which we sat. as i walked, aiyana got calmer, and inward, it became clear to me that what i'd like to molt the most is fear and the need to control. these, to me, are closely related, and are two aspects i come across often in my dayly life.

molting these, i saw myself as more vulnerable and open, more comfortable with uncertainty. i had this mental immage of myself being right there, on the edge, and being ok with it. not planning or trying to control the next moment, or the rest of my life. but just being ok with the darkness, with the uncertainty, with "the edge".

it felt really great to share this into the circle. and it felt even more amazing to hear the other women share intimate wishes, fears, dreams, etc. as each of us spoke, i felt myself completely absorbed into this powerful, beautiful place we created. at one point i was so moved by the whole thing, i felt like i was going to explode if i could not express my joy at what whas going on. i felt that everyone there was so beautiful, so perfect, just as they were. i also felt that, as each woman spoke, different parts of myself spoke. it was very intense, very emotional, and really empowering to be part of this. and i felt a great big love running through me.

the intensity came down, of course, as soon as we broke the circle and got onto different topics. but some of that power is still with me, and if i think about it for long enough, it grows and grows. it makes me so happy that i can be with people and share our most intimate selves like this. i know now, that for me, this intimacy is essential. i cannot be happy or whole if i can't relate to people on this level.

what's also pretty amazing, is what happened in the days and weeks after the circle. this came as a total surprise. basically, my wish came true. when i spoke about molting fear and the need to control, it was like speaking a fantasy. i didn't even give it a thought as to when or if that could actually happen. but over the following days, as things came up in my daily life, things that would normally make me tighten, be stressed or just uncomfortable, i found myself just thinking "this is the edge".
what happened is not that my situation got better or was "solved" in any way; instead, my grip, my tightness, whatever that thing is that takes a hold of me at those uncomfortable moments, just eased up a little bit. it just loosened, and so i was able to live with the situation as it was, without reacting too much to it.

this happened over and over, as different scenarios came up during the day (one typical scenario: sena just peed on the floor, i'm trying to wipe it, aiyana is criying and trying to crawl through the pee, and the phone is ringing; etc).
at first i didn't notice things changing, but after a few days, it suddenly dawned on me that almost every time stressful things happen, this voice says to me "this is the edge" and then i instantly feel better, more free and relaxed.

i don't claim my wish coming true to be a miracle or anything weird. i just think that i was ready for it to happen. ready to let go a little bit more. ready to release some of the fears i've been living with. and i think it took a concrete event, actually verbalizing things, like i did in the circle, in order for things to start changing in a visible way.

(please don't take this too seriously).

peace

back to CT

my trip to montreal ended up being really nice. i got to rest a little bit once my dad came home and could help with child care (he was esp. helpful in going up and down the stairs watching aiyana's butt, and just generally keeping after her). so i got to rest, and i went to fairmount and got some bagels, and just had fun in traffic, watching people and smiling at them when they're giving me the finger.

the drive back yesterday was amazing. i was nervous that it was going to turn into a screaming fest, having both sena and aiyana with me, but things went really smoothly. we took a break in a beautiful spot in vermont, right before we hit white river junction. we had a little picnic on the grass, overlooking mountains with beautiful trees. we played chase and sang along with aiyana's favorite battery-operated book. it felt really nice to be out and breathe the cool air while the sun warmed our skin.

now we're back to our routine and it feels very nice and comforting. i'm feeling great, full of energy, looking fwd to the women's circle tonight and to the rest of the week.

peace

in montreal

so i made it to montreal. aiyana and i drove here yesterday, and the drive lived up to my highest hopes. aiyana was an angel in the car - no fussing at all.
for some reason, i expected the drive to be the hardest part of this trip, and i thought that once i'd get here it would be really relaxing. it turns out that the kids are a lot harder to look after here, which i should've known, cuz everything is so new for them and the house is not childproof (which i don't expect it to be). so between aiyana constantly going up and down the stairs with me right behind her, (or screaming in frustration if we don't let her), and all the potential accident sites i have to keep her away from, i find myself exhausted, more so than i've been in a while; even though my mom is trying her best to help. i think this is actually pretty tiring for her too...
so today, after not sleeping too well last night, we decided to go to NDG, to walk around the places i know from when i lived there. all in all we had a good time. my mom came and she helped a lot with the kids. we walked around, got croissants at the bakery, and eventually ended up in a park where sena and aiyana had fun playing. it was nice for me to be able to show sena the places that are close to my heart. the traffic, on the other hand, was not so nice. wow! i forgot how crazy it can get. but we made it without too much pain.

i'm glad to be here, esp since i also hope to see my good friends...but i have to say that i already miss the trees and just the general peaceful atmosphere i got used to where we live.

i feel that this is getting lame, so i'll have to stop here...

peace

sena in montreal

sena went up to montreal with my parents. they left this afternoon, and i am already feeling all...weird in my stomach, kind of hard to describe, but maybe you know what i mean. this is the furthest she's ever been away from me. but she was so excited at the idea of going, and she kept telling me not to worry, so we packed her stuff at the last minute and she went. my parents were here to visit my sister and her new baby Julia, and none of us had planned for sena to go back with them.

so i am looking fwd to an easier week, but at the same time now i have to deal with this weird feeling of being away from her. it's like, everything i love about her, which is everything, just stands out so much more when she's away. like how, for example, things were getting a bit intense the other day, aiyana was crying and sena was screaming, and then instead of losing it, i just turned on the radio, and they were playing some kind of techno/trance stuff, and i just started dancing and jumping and being really crazy with my arms up in the air and my hair flying all over the place. they just stood there, wide-eyed for a little while, as if trying to figure out what this was all about, and then they both started dancing and being all crazy too. and aiyana can't even walk yet, but she tries really hard, so she was just holding on to the stereo and bouncing up and down in place.

aiyana and i will be driving up to mtl to pick sena up on thursday, and we'll be there till sunday. so that's really exciting, i'm looking fwd to being back, to chocolate croissants and other good things.

peace