Wednesday, October 31, 2012

because i always seem to forget how good it feels to pick up the camera.

hydrangeaspretty maryopen door to fallthe pond in fallpathin the woodsmary in the morningkitten lovefallen leavessun came outsun came outgray fall afternoontaurus full moon, mid hurricane sandy

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

in case you ever questioned the efficacy of acupuncture.

First, she needles my back. Face down, table warmer on, my face cradled in the head rest, neck releasing and relaxing. Despite the occasional noises and voices from the hallway, I'm able to focus on my breath and the soft Native American flute music and close my eyes as my body drifts off into the most delicious 20-minute nap I can ever remember. I sleep lightly and wake every now and then, wondering how it hasn't been 20 minutes yet -- it's as if time has stopped for me. For a delicious 2pm nap.

Flip over, sheets rearranged, she needles my front. Feet, legs, abdomen, hands, ear, forehead. Another 20-minute nap. Only this time, I've just had my delicious power nap and I'm wide awake. I decide to focus on my breath and the most amazing thing happens -- I go so far into my body, so deep into the nuanced sensations that come with each passing thought that I seem to leave the table, the room, the building. I'm suddenly deep within my body, feeling how one word creates a particular sensation and another creates something entirely different. I'm acutely aware of my balanced state -- the feeling of a calm, serene body of water at my heart space, evenly and peacefully lapping at the shores of my limbs and lips. I breathe into this, feeling and noticing, feeling and noticing. One stray thought pops into my head -- a tiny, nagging thought that would typically spiral me into a thought avalanche and bring about deep worry -- and I'm magically able to say hello to it, to feel the separateness of me and it, to breathe again until I can stand tall in my peaceful heart space waters. And just like that, as I loosen my grip and remember my breath and feel the worry float away, I'm able to control my mood, my present. I feel powerful. I want to laugh. Take that, anxiety. Take that, panic. For this is the exact way to counteract it, this is my method of rising above it, of knowing I am not it, it is not me. Imagine.

Within a few seconds another unsavory thought wades over, and I'm amazed at my ability to instantly notice my body's reaction, to feel my energy slide south into my gut, knotting and twisting ever so slightly. I remind my cells of that feeling of the peaceful, still waters and after a few seconds of breathing, all is well again up in my heart space. Had I not been lying on a warm table in a dark quiet room, I'd probably not notice any of this. In fact, up until recently, I'd never notice, ever.

This feels monumental to me.

And so I continue, breathing and feeling and noticing, over and over again, wide awake, until the 20 minutes are up and my deep body meditation is over. The needles come out and I'm reminded to take my time getting up, and my groggy, messy-haired, makeup-smudged reflection in the mirror smiles back, reveling in the small miracle that's just occurred in this tiny little acupuncture room in the back of a gynecologist's office building.

Me and these needles, man. We've got something good.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

just so you know, universe.

autumn outside the windowrainbow eggs, from the farmers marketsaturday morning kitchen dancing 

Someday, there will be a space in the world, carved out and taking up air, allocated solely for me. For me and all my precious -- though few -- belongings.

Someday, I’ll be able to waltz into the bathroom whenever I please, leave the door open if I please, sing aloud if I please, walk about in a towel for as long as I please. There will be nothing in the tub besides my shower things and I will breathe into all the free space with me in my shower.

Someday, I’ll have an entire refrigerator just for my use. Shelves upon shelves and drawers upon drawers, gloriously empty, waiting to be filled with my lemons and eggs and almond milk and bunches of kale. I’ll leave it open for as long or as short as I like and arrange its contents to please me.

Someday, I’ll have a bedroom with enough space for a real bed in it. For a desk and a chair that can be pulled out fully and a comfy chair too, for dreaming and writing. For a floor space large enough to unfurl a yoga mat and accommodate warrior three pose, easily.

Someday, I’ll get to decide
how often or how rarely the hand towels be washed,
at what point in the evening the television be turned on, if at all,
at what time of day the shades be lifted and closed,
what hangs on the walls and what doesn’t,
how often and in what manner the furniture gets moved around,
whether or not incense be burned,
when to throw away the leftovers,
which political signs be advertised
(there won’t be any).

Someday, I’ll get to come home and flop down onto the couch without a worry of who may be coming or going, of what next catastrophe may occur (whether it's made up in the mind or not), of whether the dog has been fed yet, of the home phone ringing with an unsavory caller on the other end. I will flop down on that couch and the only chatter going on will be my own.

Someday soon.

I'm grateful in advance, Universe.

Friday, October 5, 2012

felicitous gratitude.

Once upon a time I had a blog series here in this space that I somewhat-regularly updated. I called it Felicitous Findings -- mini-posts of five things that made me happy. Gratitudes, if you will. Tiny little things that brought a little light into my life, into this space.

My last post was in February of 2011. Heh.

And yet, gratitude has been on my mind lately. It keeps popping up into random moments of my life, peeking its head around the corner and seeing if I'm paying attention. A couple of days ago I was having a rather low, anxiety-filled day, the rain and gray and gloominess finally catching up with me after an endless week of bad weather. And just when I decided to acknowledge it and let myself feel like shit, a little pocket of space was created, just big enough for gratitude to peep back in again.

And I saw this episode of Your Great Life TV.

And I got three letters in the mail from joy sisters.

 And I emailed a dear friend.

And I remembered other souls are remembering gratitude, too.

And I remembered these Felicitous Findings posts.

And so I will continue them, now. I want to focus on the tiny things I am grateful for at the ends of my days, as I fall to sleep, and copy them here to share. In gratitude. In love.

Tiny shifts. Slowly.

"It starts with our bodies. It starts with taking care of your body. When you take care of your body, you feel good. When you feel good, you think different thoughts. When you think different thoughts, you make different decisions, you take different actions. When you take different actions, your day turns out different. And then you stack a day on top of a day on top of a day.....I mean, that’s your life."