more winter pics

i can't get enough of this. today, we're having another gorgeous day, like the one i had when i took these pics.

peace

sledding

went sledding today. it was so much fun! the weather was beautiful - we had about 3in of snow last night, so there was a nice cover, yet it was warm enough to be comfortable w/o a jacket. ed was home from work, so the 4 of us went to uconn, on one of the big hills there. we had 2 tobogans, one of which didn't work very well. but the other one was great, and the four of us ended up on it, and we were going so fast down the hill, snow spraying into our faces.by the time we reached the bottom, we were all laughing. going uphill was less fun, at least for me and ed, since we had to carry both kids and the tobogan. but we got a few really good runs in before everyone was tired and we went home.

i am so glad i get to experience this again! it's been a long time since i had fun in the snow, but being with the kids got me into it again.

last friday i was not feeling so great, a little tired and vulnerable, so i felt like i needed some energy and support. i put on my "new" sweather, the one sue gave me the previous days. she wore it for years, and it shows. it has two big holes, and lots of love. i put it on bc i thought that having sue's energy close to me would feel nice. and it does. i've worn it every day since then. i may have to wash it, it's got some jam stains on it from aiyana's hands...

i really love clothes with a history, like this sweather. clothes that have been worn and loved and have character. and if i know the person who's had it before me, and connect with their energy, that's even so much better...

by the trail

squatting down by the old trail,

low to the ground.

i've walked this trail so many times,

now covered with snow

bright sun reflecting off, blinding me.

i close my eyes.

today, i am not walking.

i feel weary, so instead

i squat down low,

feet firmly planted in soft snow

so i can feel closer to her, Earthmother.

i seek relief and soothing.

been inside for too long,

confined by walls and by too many thoughts.

close to the ground,

i rest my head into my hands,

i close my eyes,

and feel.

i feel the wind, a slightest breeze

running its fingers through my hair,

sending it, gently, over my face.

suddenly, the thought comes to me

that your breath is on the wind,

and it makes me smile

knowing that you Love me.

after a while, i start hearing faint noises.

footsteps? i turn my head,

but nobody is there.

it's only branches creaking in the wind

the Trees speaking to me.

i've been missing this so much....

i hear birds and squirrels play -

they know that spring is coming,

today, a perfect messenger for it.

my body feels less weary,

my emotions still untamed

yet somehow less instense, less powerful.

this is the end of winter,

time when the snow and ice melt,

when rivers swell,

carrying away debris, unnecessary things,

preparing ground for new growth.

it is, as well, the winter of my soul,

and i am waiting for a swell of rushing water

to take away these images, these feelings and sensations

that clutter me, allow me no peace.

i love them and i hate them,

i want them and i don't.

they're who i am, so in the end

i'll have to find a way for them to coexist

with tiny shoots of new growth

that stir inside of me.

how? i can't tell you yet.

that's why i'm here,

by myself,

in the snow,

by the old trail.

winter at our doorstep (literaly)

Into the Fire - The alchemy of personal writing

"Is it possible to write about ourselves in a way that touches others and reminds them of our fundamental conectedness? The answer is yes, if we're willing to leap - with all our passion and fear and longing - into the fire. And that fire is not just a metaphor. It's as real as our own mysterious existence; as real as a painful moment that has broken, and maybe opened, our hearts.

As we grapple with the elusive meaning of a difficult experience, without embarassement and without embellishment, we may discover that our writing begins to change, deepen, and move beyond the merely personal. To wite this way is hard work. Few sentences come out right the first time, or the second, or the third. But if we're committed to seeing the process through, we discover that our most private moments can become more than what we thought they were: a shining source of light for others as well as ourselves."

(The Sun, feb 2007 issue)

more dreams, etc.

mon feb 19th

my nights, over the past week, have been very busy, unsettling, and unrelenting. my head, racing with thoughts, dreams, and half-dreams. despite being tired, i've been waking up every night, at least once, and had a hard time calming down the rush of emotion, slowing down enough to fall back asleep. emotions, mostly from the past, that felt overwhelmingly real. i felt swept away, powerless, only to be thrown out of it exhausted at the end. here's one dream, that exemplifies what i'm trying to describe:

i'm looking for an old, close friend. i feel that i absolutely must find him, see him, talk to him. after much searching, i finally find myself standing in front of my old elementary school in romania. i open the door and step inside, looking for him. as soon as i'm inside, i get sucked into the time when i was a child attending that school. i see the doors and the hallways, and a few kids walking around. my heart sinks as i realize that this is not the place to find my friend. i should be looking for him is at mcgill, in canada. but here i am instead - stuck in this time and place with all these emotions from my childhood flooding in, and with the desolation of not having found him, of being so far off.

I got up from this dream sad and exhausted. thought about it a lot over the next day: how i felt so lonely and uncomfortable being in my old school; how my early life in romania was shaped by so many mis-guided adults, my "teachers". they believed in disciplining us through fear, intimidation, and shame. this is how it was, and everyone accepted it. it never even occured to me to question it until i had my own children .

those were the times when politically, economically, socially and personally, people had so little control over their lives, that it must've felt like some kind of release for our teachers to finally get the feeling that they can control something, or somebody: us, the kids in their classes.

i feel so much sadness realizing this. sadness for everybody involved. i feel sad for the adults, because now i see what kind of position they were in, given the greater context of their lives. i feel sad for us, the kids, who didn't understand what was going on. i feel sad for how we learned to be mean to each other, to put each other down in order to feel good about ourselves.

i can recall several incidents when i was deliberately mean to others, because i thought this was the way to address my problems, and because it made me feel better about myself. one time, i tripped a boy on roller skates just to see what would happen. when he got hurt a lot more that i thought he would, i knew i had done something really bad, but the main emotion i felt at the time was fear. i knew that his parents would be after me in no time, and i was more concerned with my own skin than his. yet this incident has stayed with me all these years, and i have gone through lots of emotions with it. now i tell sena the story at night, how i tripped him and how i still feel guilty about it. the fear is long gone, but the guilt and the feeling of "what was i thinking?" haven't.

another incident i recall which shows me just how used we were to "small" acts of violence in our everyday lives, happened at school when i was maybe 10-years-old. we had a teacher of Russian, who rarely came to class. she was a prominent member of the (communist) party, so she held quite a bit of power in our school, and nobody really questioned her as far as we knew. when she did come to class, she yelled at us a lot, and often hit us with a stick when we did not know our stuff really well. one time, she was absent as usual. our class was getting very noisy. we were playing soccer, making a racket and knocking things off the walls. other teachers must've complained, cuz/ our russian teacher showed up in a fury, tried to get things under control. when she couldn't, she stormed off yelling that she's going to get the gym teacher. a few minutes later, the gym teacher walked in and everyone was quiet (scared of him). everyone took their seats, but the room was a mess. somehow, the gym teacher picked out this one boy, a known "troublemaker". he hadn't been more or less at fault than any of us on this particular occasion, but he was an easy target. the troublemaker had a sister, who was also in our class. the rest of us were barely breathing, hoping not to attract attention, not to be picked on, as the gym teacher started beating "the troublemaker". this was not unusual, at least not up to the point where the little boy fell on the floor, and the gym teacher, enraged, started kicking him. i don't remember all the details, but 2 things stand up in my mind: the boy's nose bleeding badly, blood smeared all over the floor; and his sister, my friend, crying quietly in her seat, trying not to make any noise, as she watched him being beaten.

eventually, the gym teacher left, and everyone carried on with their day. this was nothing unusual, maybe the blood was a little much, but not enough to make anyone really question things. when i was in romania, a few years ago, i met a friend who knew the "troublemaker" and his sister. she told me that the troublemaker was still just that. i guess all that beating wasn't very effective. he certainly had a lot of it. so i can't help but wonder if our teachers were really beating and insulting us "for our own good" as they professed, or was it really because they were unhappy people, feeling the need of power and control, in at least one area of their lives.

i also feel so sad realizing the truth of the very old saying that pain and suffering go around in a vicious cycle, often being carried forward by those who suffered from them the most.

peace (and peaceful dreams)

last week - a peaceful moment

peace

being crazy

i'm having a very crazy week so far. despite the fact that my mom is here and helping out a lot with the house and kids, things are much more difficult than they have been lately. aiyana is being very sensitive and crying a lot (4 teeth coming in at the same time can do that), and sena's picking up on the vibes as well and can be very demanding at times. mostly though, she's been an angel, very understanding and reasonable for a 3-year-old.

my patience is definitely being tested this week, and i've discovered just how angry and aggressive i can get when things really get to me, and i'm trying hard to control myself and everything else going on around me, and at the same time i'm trying to relax and let things be. how crazy is that?

one thing i've discovered is that when things get really tough, when they get beyond a certain point, it's almost like there's a certain release. i guess it's because i figure things can't really get much worse, and everything i was trying to avoid has already happened, so there's nothing left to worry about, hence the release. which makes me realize how all this tension and frustration is mostly in my mind, or my attitude, or whatever you want to call it. because if i were more relaxed about things they would probably go smoother... so this is something i'm working on without trying too hard. you know how that goes, you've got to try w/o trying. you got to let go and then it happens. of course this makes no sense, but who said it's got to?
life is not about making sense, i've discovered, it's more about being graceful, and being with it and a bunch of other things i've yet to discover (or re-discover).

well, so now that i actually have a few minutes to sit and write this, i'm feeling pretty nice, light and happy - coffee has a lot to do w this, but so does Brian Andreas's writing, some of which i'd like to share here. enjoy....

Real Reason:
There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other's cooking & say it was good.

Kindred Spirits:
You're the strangest person I ever met, she said & I said you too & we decided we'd know each other a long time.

No Words:
I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.

Illusion of Control:
If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you.

my sister and Ricardo got me this one for my bday. i love it because it speaks to me so much:

Center of Wheels
I spent a long time trying to find my center until I looked closely one
night & found it had wheels & moved easily in the slightest
breeze, so now I spend less time sitting and more time sailing.

you can find more here if you're interested:

http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/Home.do?inMenu=true

Peace

feeling blue

i've been feeling very...vulnerable, i guess that's the best way to put it, over the last few days. i'd like to write about it but don't have much time right now.

i just feel like i'm on the edge of something, of losing something, or maybe i already lost it...
hope to get a chance to write about it soon.

peace

pics from last week

the first picture, taken by my sister last week, is of Sena, her good friend Giovanna, and my sister's baby Julia. i love how their joy and beauty comes through...

the second one shows my mom and Aiyana bonding over some food. it was taken this weekend, at a little family get-together we had for my bday.

thanks for the pics, roxi and ricardo....

hanging out at the house

here are two examples of how we've been spending time this winter: mostly in the house (too cold out recently), reading and getting messy with...food, paint, etc.
oh yeah, and spinning on the "office chair" is a big favorite too (despite numerous falls)....

the old blue heron

the old blue heron that i used to see at eagleville dam, is no longer there. he hasn't been there for months, yet i still look for him each time i go by the dam, which is at least twice a week. i don't know why, but i miss him.

he was so silent and motionless amidst the running water, the crazyness of cars going by, people fishing, etc. seeing him standing there like that would instantly bring me peace as well. transport me somewhere else - out of my head and into the moment. because of him, i never failed to notice how beautiful the river and the surrounding trees were through all kinds of weather.

i don't know how many people noticed the heron, hidden as he was - sometimes he stood right by the dam, but other times he'd stand more downstream, on the side of the river, almost in the woods.

i try to still pay attention to the trees and the water, as if he were still there, but it's not the same. i try to notice how everything's changing with the seasons, with time going by: the river swells and then subsides again; the trees, all bare, are covered with snow and ice; on different days, they reflect different hues of light - sometimes gray, sometimes orange or pink.

i'll keep looking for him, hoping he'll come back. maybe herons migrate, i don't know, i should look it up; in any case i hope to see him again in the spring maybe, and then i know that there will be a swell of joy in my heart. joy and recognition.

peace

bearing witness

i feel that there's a lot of stuff going on among the people i'm close with: depression, sick parents and children, separation, hopelessness, etc. makes me realize again how we all go through these things at different times; i remember times when i was down, hopeless, scared, alone, and i am grateful for these experiences because they allow me to identify and empathize with others. i am also grateful that people feel open enough with me to share their hopes, disappointments and pain.

yet, i still find myself uncomfortable with pain, mine and others'. i've become more aware of how hard it is to be in the presence of raw emotion and just sit with it, listen and not try to change it, not try to fix it, or offer solutions or make light of it, or anything like that. i recently read a passage that speaks to this in a simple, eloquent way:

"when we honestly ask ourselves which people in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. the friend who can be silent with us in a moment of dispair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." (Henry Nouwen, as published in the feb 2007 edition of The Sun)

the other thing that comes to mind in this context is Pema Chodron's suggestion, which my friend Jennifer recently reminded me about. it's a special meditation, in which you breathe in pain, discomfort, heaviness, and breathe out light, ease, and well-being.
it's suggested that the meditation be done at first by imagining someone who's really close to you experiencing some kind of suffering, because that's the easiest way for most people to feel compassion and open their hearts to someone else. eventually, with LOTS of practice (i'm not speaking from experience here, only repeating what i read), you my come to feel compassion towards anyone's suffering...

knowing this helps me sometimes, esp. after having been with someone who's in a tough situation and feeling there's not much i can do for them, other than simply being there to bear witness to their circumstances.

peace

the audition

(a little story from a long time ago...)

i don't remember who drove us there. probably my parents. they dropped us off, bunica (my grandmother) and i, and then they left.

i don't remember much about the setting, or the entire thing. just a few sharp, disjointed details:

the building was gray and stern. bunica and i walked inside. we found ourselves staring down a long hallway, poorly lit, with many doors on either side. all the doors were closed. we walked for what seemed like a long time, our steps resounding on the bare floor. i was very nervous, almost scared. i followed bunica in silence. she walked sure of herself, with purpose.

eventually, i saw a group of people standing in line in front of a door down the hall. they were mostly kids, and a few grown-ups. i thought that this must be where the audience was taking place.

we got to the door and took our place in line. we didn't talk to anyone, or to each other. i remember feeling unease and dread as the line inched forward and we approached the door. the door stayed closed except for when someone went in or out.

i didn't know who or what was behind the door. but i knew was that when my turn came, i was supposed to walk in and sing. i hadn't spoken to anyone about what i'd sing. i hadn't practiced any particular piece. i remember panicking as i approached the door and still had not picked a song.

my turn finally came. the door opened and i went in alone.

i found myself standing in front of a long table, on one side of which several adults were seated. they looked at me and i could tell right away that they were bored with the whole thing, impatient to get it over with, and annoyed at having to listen to one more awful sounding, nervous kid.

they asked my name and a few other necessary details. then, one of them told me to sing.

i didn't feel like i could put them out by taking the time to prepare my voice, clear my throat, or anything like that. nervously, i started singing the song i had picked at the last minute. i knew right away that i sounded awful. i thought i could do much better. but there was only one chance and i had just missed it.

as abruptly as they said sing, they told me to stop. my audience was over. i turned around and walked out. feeling like a failure, but also relieved.

bunica and i walked back down the hallway, away from the crowd that was still gathered at the door, and into the street.

i knew that my audition was a failure. i'd never be selected from among the other children. i felt bad for letting bunica down, and i felt humiliated by the experience.

this had been another of bunica's attempts to turn us into "somebody". she never gave up, this being a central trait of her fiercely independent character. this time, she said "you have a good voice, you should sing", probably after hearing me sing some song to myself or my parents at home. her talk wasn't idle - she followed up by signing me up for a singing audition she'd heard about from who knows where.

i never knew about her arrangements. she worked behind the scenes, always figuring out new ways to turn us into "somebody". she sought, most of all, social recognition for herself and her family. she liked to be "above" the masses, to be looked up to, envied.

i was about 10 years-old at that time. bunica and i didn't talk about this incident since then. or about the one with the violin; nor the one with the fish; etc. she was, and still is, a woman of action.

now in her 90's, she looks like a frail old woman, but her willpower is as strong as ever, and she still clings to her independence more than anything.

somwehere in my childhood, i started thinking that i didn't like her. she was too tough to love. but as i moved into adulthood (not to mention physically moved away from her), i unexpectedly dicovered a lot of tenderness in my heart for her. tenderness and love.

maybe it has to do with knowing her better, knowing where she came from. understanding her circumstances. maybe it has to do with realizing that there have been plenty of times when i was insensitive to people around me, and i hurt them. maybe it has to do with her current situation - a frail old woman living alone in a country far away from family and friends.

now, when i call her on the phone, she usually asks me how much money i make and how many degrees i have. she tells everyone that i have a doctorate even though i don't. sometimes, to make her feel better and to spare her the embarassment of a lie, i tell her that i'm working on one.

i feel that she needs to know that we, her direct family, have made something "worthy" of ourselves. that we are "better that the rest". i'm afraid that if i were to share my true feelings with her, if i were to tell her that i am happy being an ordinary person, a nobody, spending the days with my kids, watching the seasons change, with no particular ambitions and nothing extraordinary to my name, well, i'm afraid this may be too much for her. she may be devastated - or, most likely, she may refuse to believe me, refuse to hear me, letting my words slip away from her consciousness.

however, i'm sure that she'd be thrilled to hear that i like to write (she being a writer with several books published to her name). although that is a little twisted too. she wouldn't want to know, for example, that when i write it doesn't matter where my writing goes. that there's no special ambition behind it, just the desire to share with others - share myself, just for the fun of doing it, and the release.

bunica is nearing the end of her life. sometimes i think that soon, she's bound to realize that this ambition, this "being somebody" and "getting somewhere" mean nothing really. maybe, one morning she'll wake up and hear a lonely bird sing its special / ordinary song right outside her window, and know that this is enough.

but this is my fantasy, my vision of her. in reality, bunica's spirit is embodied in a strong woman, focused on action and achievement.

Iris Murdoch wrote that "love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real". i have had this realization about my grandmother, and in spite of all the things i wanted her to be, i am sure now that i love her exactly for what she is.

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

since writing this piece a few months ago, bunica got very ill. she had major surgery around Christmas, which nobody thought she would survive. but she did (she always told us she wanted to live to be 100) and recovered enough to be moved to an elderly-people's-home. being there was very difficult for her at first, as it is for most people. when finally she resigned herself to the idea that she'll have to stay a while, she insisted that somebody go to her apartment and bring her something special: a plant she had nurtured and become friends with.

peace

lunch

so i'm sitting down at the co-op cafe with some friends yesterday, while our kids are playing. we're talking and laughing, then aiyana wants to nurse. so i start nursing her, and this guy i met a little while ago, who's really nice and honest, says to me: i wish i could have that for lunch. and then he turns and says to this other guy, who's his helper (the first guy has a handicap): don't you?

so i thought that it was really funny, and i laughed, and so did most of the other people who heard the comments. but the helper was not pleased, and he left, and soon the first guy left too. after a few minutes, he came back and appologized for the comments, and i said it was ok, i knew they weren't badly intentioned, he was just speaking his mind, and besides, how many other men think that, or other things that may even be hurtful, but they pretend to be all about something else. at least he was honest.

then my friend sue jumped in and said how breastfeeding is such a big deal in this culture, and many people aren't comfortable with it because they sexualize the whole thing, when in fact what can be more natural than feeding your baby when she cries? some other cultures may be uptight about different things, but not this one.

anyway, it was just a funny little thing that happened, but i think it can tell you quite a bit about the way things are.

peace

food and going to the moon

so people have gone to the moon and other crazy places like that, and yet there are so many things we don't know about our own planet, the plants and animals that share it with us, not to mention ourselves. what is that? i think it may be partly arrogance, but that may be cuz i'm in a certain frame of mind right now. ed pointed out that a lot of times you need to go elsewhere in order to learn more about where you're at. which i can definitely see...

i guess my thoughts on this subject stemmed from my recent musings on how self-centered and arrogant, and mostly how ignorant we humans are, thinking that we are so special, and so "superior" to other beings. i'm reading a book on whales and dolphins, and it's so amazing to realize just how much there is we don't know or understand about these beings and so many others like them. we don't even know how to start approaching them. we study them as "scientific subjects", which i guess is a valid form of inquiry, but to really know a being is so much more involved, so much beyond that. i'm actually glad that we don't know that much about them, and i think it behooves us to maybe humble ourselves a little and just get comfortable with the unknown...

well so now let me get to writing what i really wanted to say today:
i've been really getting into cooking lately. that happened for several reasons: one, i have to feed my family, and i want them to eat healthy home-cooked meals. i also like them to enjoy their food, so i do my best. i love it when sena says "this is really good", or when i see aiyana comp down every last morsel. two, and this is a very selfish reason, but nonetheless very important, is that cooking has become an outlet for my creativity for lack of others at this time. there are lots of other things i'd like to do, such as drawing, or body movement, etc, but these things are difficult to do with children, esp. with a 1-yr-old. hopefully i'll be doing them more and more as time goes by. but for now, cooking has become a major outlet of creative energy.

so i've been making lots of stews and soups, which are really nice and soothing in the winter. i've been using nice, quality vegetables, mostly grown by our good friends, brian and anita, and other things such as lentils, mung and adzuki beans, and all kinds of grains i get at the co-op. i built up a nice collection of spices, so now i can throw together a dish pretty quickly. i try, as much as possible, to use stuff that's in season, like root veges in the winter for example, in the spirit that whatever makes these vegetables get through the winter is also probably going to be good for us as it becomes part of our bodies. this is a principle of macrobiotics, and one that makes intuitive sense to me. the other day, i cooked a kick-ass russian borsch. with lots of cabbage, beets, carrots, and other root vegetables. i got the recipe from the original mosewoods cookbook, and i really love it. it's been a big hit with anyone who's tried it so far. i took out 2 more cookbooks out of the library the other day, one of which i want to buy simply because it's beautiful. some of the recipes seem really good too, but it's the art-work that i love. it's the famous "enchanted broccoli forest" cookbook. the other one is a "soups and stews from moosewoods", or something like that, and it has lots of amazing looking recipes, esp. for wintertime. i'm looking fwd to trying the "eastern european root vege soup" from it. i'll let you know how it turns out if i remember.

hoping you enjoy your food, and the energy it gives you...
peace
raluca

thank you faye

mon jan 29th

"don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you." (Robert Fulghum)

so much truth to that. i have to admit, that when sena acts particularly nice, caring, considerate, and so on, i pat myself on the back quite a bit. the reverse is true a well. fortunately there aren't many instances when she acts mean. she has problems with sharing her stuff sometimes, but i think age has a lot to do with it, and i can tell she's getting better. also, sometimes she can be too blunt, to the point of hurting someone's feelings. she'll say for example "i don't like so-and-so". so i try to explain that she's entitled to her feelings, but she should not be so rough in expressing them. i offered an alternative, and now she'll mostly say "i'm not comfrotable with so-and-so", which usually goes over a lot better with people. but what disturbed me the most, was when she said one day "i want to kill something". i have no idea where that came from. or what she was talking about. but it was very disturbing, esp. since we rarely talk about killing, and when we do it's usually about not killing. i think it may be from hearing conversations about hunting with grampa. or maybe she's just toying with us, cuz she gets a reaction when she says it. this is what ed thinks. i guess it's not really a big deal, she only said it twice and has dropped it since, but i have to admit i got worried.

after my last blog entry, my long-time, long-lost friend faye posted a kind reply. so here's something else i'd like to admit :
i have to admit that it's really nice when people express interest and say nice things about my writing in this blog. as i've said before, the major impetus behind my writing is to share and connect with people, so in that respect it feels really good when i get honest positive feedback.

and on to something completely unrelated...

ed and i have a friend, johnny, who's a very special person. to me, his gift is that he can tell stories. he tells all kinds of stories, mostly from his life and the lives of people he's come across. he's certainly had lots of experiences, so he has a lot to say. he has a special way of telling the right story at the right time, weaving it in with the mood of the situation, and with whatever conversation taking place. i find it beautiful. when he speaks, i'm usually left with a feeling that i've just experienced something special, like i've been transported somewhere, or maybe it's just that my heart finds it easy to be open when i listen to him. in any case, he's got a gift, and i don't even know if he's aware of it or not. his whole family is actually very special, honest and fun to be around, and i am grateful knowing all of them.

that's all for now...

enjoy this beautiful winter!

peace

misguided

mon jan 22nd

just came back from the co-op, and the kids are sleeping. had some excellent ethiopian coffee and some dark chocolate while we were there, plus some interesting, fun conversation with friends, and after all of that i am feeling pretty high.

while driving back home, paula abdul's "straight up" played on the radio. the energy of it matched my mood and i turned it up. different feelings came up as the music transported me back to the summer of...i guess i don't remember the year exactly. i was maybe 17-18, and i was working in a women's boutique on st. catherine street in montreal. it was my first job, and i was very excited about it. i was still new to canada, still learning the language, getting used to the people, etc.

it was around this time that i started being obsessed with my appearance. i saw beauty, physical beauty ("as seen on TV"), as the key to meeting people, making friends, fitting in and just plain the key to my happiness. as a result, i started losing a lot of weight, basically starving myself.

the summer was hot and sunny. my clothes were getting tighter, shorter, more revealing. this seemed to be working, in the sense that i was getting more and more attention. that it wasn't the kind of attention i really wished for was not an issue at the time. anything was better than nothing, and in those days i was so lonely and so alone that i craved human connection more than anything else.

one day i was working in the boutique, and this woman walked in. she was very attractive, in her 20's, and i would've done anything to be like her. i stared at her the entire time she was in the store, with a mixture of envy and admiration. i had to help her with some clothes she wanted to buy, and feeling very courageous before she left, i asked her the question that was on my mind: "how much do you weigh?". she gave me a puzzled look - i must've taken her by surprise. my accent and the nature of my question must have made an interesting combination. she answered me, nevertheless. i said thank you, and then she walked out. i stared out behind her.

at that time, it seemed very important for me to know how much this woman weighed. because if i could weigh that much too, then i'd be just like her: beautiful, happy and perfect.
eventually i got myself weighing a lot less than what she had told me (the idea was - the less, the better), to the point where my hair started falling out and my period stopped. but the promise i had seen in her, and the perfect lives of those skinny beautiful women i saw on TV never really materialized for me. i wasn't thrilled about my hair falling out, (that didn't seem too attractive), so i stopped dieting (reluctlantly), and slowly got back to a healthier state.

17 years later i am listening paula abdul's song in my car, driving my children back from the food co-op. i feel happy and light. i want to open the window (it's cold outside), and sing along, but the kids are falling asleep so i keep it in. i am wearing second hand clothes from Sal's boutique (Salvation Army thrift store). i have gray in my hair. my body has bore 2 children, and my face is showing signs of middle age. i wear no make-up, no jewelery. i am a lot heavier than i would have considered acceptable way back then. but none of that matters. i feel good. i feel beautiful and radiant. i am alive, intense energy burning inside me. i am happy to be who i am, looking like me, not like anyone on TV.

so many things have changed...yet, some things stayed the same: i still love coffee, and chocolate. i still seek meaningful connection with people. (i now also seek it with other things, like trees and animals). still love to have fun, love to dance when i hear a good tune. it took me a long time, but i finally learnt that what i was looking for has nothing to do with my bodyweight, with the length of my dresses, with the amount of money i have, or any such things. i've discovered that the trick for me is to share my joy openly with those i seek to connect with and then, most of the time, people will respond and things will go from there. it's about how much i put myself out there, how much i open my heart, how much i am ready to share myself, my pain and my joy with others.

so now that i know, i look back with a bittersweet feeling over the journey that brought me here, over the many incidents that tought me the things i needed to know. i am grateful for everything that happened, because it's just so sweet to feel the joy in ordinary things without doing anything special but letting go.

coffee again

wed jan 17th 2007

so i'm drinking coffee again. it took about 2 or 3 weeks to get back into the habit. just couldn't stay off. and i'd say this is indicative of my level of resolution with things in general. so i figure since i can't kick the habit, i might as well make the most of it, enjoy it as much as i can. it certainly feels good to drink coffee - the clarity in my head, the energy boost, the comfort of the ritual... hopefuly the negative effects will be minimal, given that i'm keeping it to 1 cup a day and i don't even have it every day. but enough of this for now.

the other thing that's going on with me recently is that my breathing is not so good. this has been an ongoing "problem" for years, since i moved to the US actually. it usually is triggered by anxiety - like when i came here, for example, i had a lot of anxiety about the changes i was about to go through and what i was leaving behind me in montreal. my breathing tightened up as a result. just didn't feel easy and comfortable. it felt like i was struggling to get enough air. not a pleasant thing to deal with, esp since the more i focus on it, or better said the more i try to control it, the worse it gets.
i also used to have anxiety about my dog stanton, who could be aggressive with strangers. lots of people told me that i was irresponsible for not having him put down, and part of me knew they were right, since he was liable to hurt someone, yet another part of me could not conceive of such a betrayal to him who was like my family.

so i went to see a doctor about my breathing troubles, for lack of better ideas, and of course she told me to take meds. which of course i didn't, knowing fully well that this is beyond meds, having to do with my state of mind, my inner peace or whatever else you want to call it. i also went to see a shrink, or a counselor i guess she called herself, and she didn't help too much either so i stopped after a few sessions.
eventually i learnt to work with my breathing troubles, to be with whatever was going on without trying to control it. this is really tricky, and i'm still learning how to deal with things, although it's easier now since i have more experience.

my breathing problems have gotten a lot better especially since sena was born 3 years ago. i guess that was such a big change in my life, and it shifted my focus, such that my mind felt less scattered. also, around the same time stanton died, and although i missed him, i have to admit that my worries relative to him went away and that helped.

recently though, my breathing problems have flared up again. don't really know what it's about. i suspect it has to do with trying (too hard?) to balance my life: the needs of the kids, my relationship with ed, having some time for myself and of course taking care of things like cooking, cleaning, etc. most of the time i manage to juggle these things ok, but since christmas it's been harder in some aspects. things with ed have gotten harder, despite the fact that the kids are generally getting easier. ed feels like he's alone too much of the time, like we don't have any time together, and that gets him really down. when he's down,it's hard for me to deal with things, esp. since i have to take care of the kids at the same time. and so eventually i get down, and i get depleted and my breathing gets worse through all of it.
so we're trying to work on having more time together, although realistically the only way this can happen is if someone can take care of sena and aiyana for an hour of two, and this does not happen too often.

but in spite of everything, despite the fact that my breathing seems to be triggered by outside factors, i know that on a deeper level it's all about listening to myself. it seems that the more i look for solutions outside of myself, the worse it gets. it's when i stop and look for answers inside of myself, that my breath gets more relaxed. this happens whether i get any answers or not. it seems that just turning my gaze or my focus in the right direction, is enough.

so on this note, i wish everyone easy breathing and peace.

Jane Ormes

tue Jan 16th

i don't know who Jane Ormes is, but these beautiful lines by her were on a card i saw (and bought for myself):

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow...

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain...

When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there,
I did not die.