retrospective

Looking back through the posts mom and I have made in this space during 2011, I see a shift in my focus over the twelve months. As the year began, I was in a very strong and powerful place. I had made some decisions about my life and was enjoying exploring those choices. I would hazard to say our first koan, about ethical awareness and consciousness, came more out of where I was at the time than where mom was.

Sunset - Land's End - January 1, 2012

We covered a lot of ground quickly and briefly moving from topic to topic. And while mom's post tended to be about what she was experiencing and feeling, my posts tended towards what I was thinking about and seeing. Getting up on my soapbox about a few things was both fun and slightly embarrassing (though well received). By mid-spring, I felt like the blog had settled into a pace and flow.

Sunset - Land's End - January 1, 2012

Then, there was a silence, which was very much related to life things happening and not anything between mom and me. But I can see someone reading something into it. At the same time, I know that as I look and think back over that time, there was something shifting for me during that time. I started to go to a much more internal, vulnerable place. Asking myself more personal questions. Not focusing on the world at large as much. And in many ways, less willing to share that journey in a public place.

Sunset - Land's End - January 1, 2012

After the silence, there was a flood. For me, July stands out almost as a separate blog. 60 posts. Reading through them is beautiful and bewildering. It is so different from the other content. No agenda. No purpose. No koan. Just simple daily observations and pictures.

Afterwards, it was hard to move back to content driven posts. Which is interesting retrospectively, because the goal of posting everyday for the month was to get us back in the habit of writing on the blog. I wonder if we almost burnt ourselves out that month; I definitely found the commitment of posting everyday sometimes to be daunting. Or perhaps it was the fact that after July was over, we did have a new koan or direction to move into. And one cannot forget that the fall signaled the start of the school year for both mom and myself.

Sunset - Land's End - January 1, 2012

While I'm not upset about how the blog dwindled in the last few months of the year, I wish that it had turned out differently. I don't that it could have knowing the state that I was in from September through December, but that doesn't stop me from struggling with my unfulfilled expectations. In the end, I do feel like I was able to connect more with my mom, which was what this whole project was about anyway.

the nature of habits and myself

Earlier in October, I signed up for an online course that was committing to do a yoga practice at home for 30 days. The commitment would be supported through video and email support by the yoga teacher. After the course, theoretically, one has gotten into a habit of daily yoga.

While I have enjoyed the course and practicing yoga at home, I have not been able to manage to make it a habit. In fact, I believe I have an unusual predilection for not forming habits out of daily practices. I'm not saying that I don't have things that I do regularly - showering, checking email, etc. Or that I don't respond to certain stimuli in certain, patterned ways - over-eating when upset, tearing at my nails when nervous, etc. Those ideas aren't what I mean when I say habit. I mean willfully and purposefully putting in place behaviors that become so ingrained that eventually they become almost subconscious. Things like daily yoga/exercise, filling my bike tires weekly, regularly writing on a blog. I have great ambitions and seem to have rather poor follow through.

For example, all of my journals before my 17th birthday look like this - one week of daily writing, an entry two weeks later that tries to catch up and fails, one more aborted attempt to catch up, the rest is blank pages. This was my habit. By the time I was 17, even I had recognized this pattern in myself. So, when I received a beautiful journal from a friend for my birthday, I was reticent to do anything with it. I didn't want it to end up like all the others. I thought about it for a while and wondered what would happen if I didn't date my entries? What if I just wrote what I wanted and then put it aside? And then, it wouldn't matter if I picked it up the next day or in two weeks or in two months or two years. It would look like I was just starting from where I left off. I started the journal in January of 2000 and finished it, my only complete journal to date, around 6 years later. I started my current journal in January of 2006 and am not nearly halfway done.

What does this example say about me? And, can I translate it into something useful in my other goals for myself? How do go about setting up a habit without holding myself accountable to time? I guess I can't really say that I made journaling a habit. I did the opposite. I removed the element of regularity. It worked for what I wanted - to finish a journal - but it didn't make journaling a consistent part of my life. How can I remove my self-sabotaging expectations of myself while still holding myself accountable? Maybe I'll go contemplate it while in downward dog.

I'm not normal

A few evenings ago, Martin and I were thinking about social norms or conventions. In many ways, he and I do adhere to many social norms. Using the example from the wikipedia page, we do in fact face the doors versus the other people when riding an elevator.

But there are some social norms that we have chosen to question. Things that haven't quite fit right for us. Here's the short list that we came up with during our conversation:

• monogamous - yes
• married - no
• eat meat - no
• own/have a car - no

It's not that we think (with the exception of eating meat on my part, I won't speak for Martin) that other people are wrong in following or not following these conventions. Owning a car is necessary for a lot of people in the US in order to work and live. Polyamory works for many people and it's basis in open, truthful communication is something that is lacking in many relationships.

Rather, I think it's important to challenge oneself to think about why we do things. To make choices versus going along with what's normal or expected.

marking time

a windy afternoon shot along Mission Creek

Last day of work this month. Third dance performance of this weekend. Second night riding home after dark this week. First chance to hang out with a friend and former co-worker this year.

sleep cycles

I wish I were a morning person. But it's so easy to stay up late. Reading. Watching movies. Browsing the internets. The next thing I'll know it's after 1am and I have to be at a meeting at 9:30am. It's a vicious cycle.

the sound of the waves

Martin and I went on a mini-adventure and finally ventured out to see the wave organ, which had been on the to-do list since Martin found it on the atlas obscura. It was very windy as the fog blew in over the hills. The sun sparkled on the bay as tiny little sail boats soared amid the trans-pacific tanks. We held hands and kissed knowing tomorrow would bring work, travel and separation.

Martin looking out at the bay and GG bridge

tiny sail boat with fort mason in the background

SF Summer

Photo Martin took of the fog last June in a similar location (aka Potrero Hill)

Walking to dinner tonight, we saw the fog flowing over the hills.  Cresting and misting like a giant white ocean. I miss the balmy nights, but I do love seeing the fog roll in.

Misplaced

Pinecone on the beach at Lake Superior

Today is a day when I would have forgotten my head if it hadn't been attached to my body. Here's to hoping tomorrow is better.

Sabado

Pilates class. Work. Dinner and a show with friends. A long walk home. Today was a day of small moments within long stretches of time.

My Sister

Krista and Uncle David

I'm reminded tonight that you are, by far, the wild child. The mischievous one who knows how to make people laugh. But also the one who likes to fit in and cares about what other people think. Ever treading where I am unable to go, yet more aware of the judgements our culture lays upon us.

Routines

Water pipes in the hallway

Funny how small breaks in routine can be so draining. I, apparently, really need that one day a week when I can sleep-in. I have a feeling this is going to end up being a very long week.

Connections

Tree on the walk by Mission Bay around late afternoon

After almost three years, I'm still surprised when I run into people I know while out and about in this city by the bay. Today I saw a former co-worker waving hello as she rode by on her bicycle and ran into a former volunteer who worked at the cafe where we got brunch. I don't know if this place will ever feel like "home," but it's nice to be reminded of the connections I have made.

Relaxing

Bell on Mardi Gras mask

Roasting garlic in the oven. Anita O'Day on the itunes. A glass of coconut beer. The evening is shaping up to be much better than the earlier part of the day. 

EnterView

Here are my answers to James Lipton's questionnaire.  Martin asked me the questions and we recorded them so that I could transcribe it for later.  I tried to keep in my pauses and stutters.  I did add a note to explain my first answer.


What is your favorite word?

• Oubliette, it's a place you put things to forget about them. (homage to Labyrinth)

What is your least favorite word?

• (pause) I don't know.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

• Um, true stories, like honest personal stories from people's lives, um, turns me on.

What turns you off?

• The opposite, lies and deceit, things that aren't honest or don't reflect some aspect of, of life.

What sound or noise do you love?

• Cats purring.

What sound or noise do you hate?

• The sound of cars crashing into one another.

What is your favorite curse word?

• Uh... I don't know if it's my favorite but I use it a lot, which would be "son of a bitch."

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

• I would like to be a writer.

What profession would you not like to do?

• Umm, bull rider, seems pretty dangerous.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?

• Uh, yeah it's all a bunch of bullshit.

It's the pits

Continuing with our current koan, I would like to discuss some struggles I've had with beauty practices currently expected of women in our society. Basically what I would like to tackle in this post is hair. Yes, we all have body hair. Some more than others but, once we hit puberty, we've all got it. And most women spend a whole hell of a lot of time getting rid of it.

Armpit hair study #1 - pop art

Personally, I have never really connected to the reasons behind shaving, waxing, plucking, etc. I know that it is considered attractive and appropriate for a woman in our society to have as little noticeable body hair as possible. I know that the same level of hair removal is not expected of men, though some level of grooming is expected.

Armpit hair study #2 - sepia

For me, removing my body hair was always something that I did to fit in. With the sole exception of occasionally shaving my legs, I never did it because it made my body feel better. Here's what I remember of my indoctrination into our culture of hair removal:

• My younger sister asking me if I had thought about shaving my legs. Before this I had been blissfully ignorant of any hair on my body beyond what was on my head. I was 13 years old.
• My mother teaching me to shave my legs with a beige, electric razor from the 70's that pulled out more hairs that it ever shaved.
• My sister ordering this green goo from Australia that was supposed to remove hair in some manner that was better and easier than shaving or waxing. I had no interest in said green goo, but was talked into being a guinea pig. Let's just say ... never again.
• Sitting on the bus, my freshman year of high school, listening to my two best friends tell me that they had talked to a guy friend of ours who said I would be really pretty if only I plucked my eyebrows. Before this I had been blissfully ignorant of any hair on my face having any impact on my respective attractiveness.
• A few weeks later in a hotel room before my grandmother's memorial service, I asked my mother to pluck my eyebrows for the first time.
• At a pool party in high school, having painful awareness of red bumps on my bikini line from where I had shaved "down there" for the first time. No sunbathing for me.

Armpit hair study #3 - colored pencil

Retrospectively, what makes me uncomfortable about the above experiences is that they reinforced for me the idea that I had to shave, pluck, etc. in order to look clean, good, right, or attractive. It's taken a long time, and being in a supportive relationship, for me to be able to start to deal with my internal conflict over my hair removal practices.

Armpit hair study #4 - thermal camera

I gave up on my bikini line years ago and buy swim wear accordingly. It's been over a year since I've plucked my eyebrows though I still have a habit of pulling them out when I'm stressed or nervous. I haven't shaved my pits since the fall and am getting used to seeing hair there when I wear tank tops. My legs are currently nice and fuzzy. I can see myself shaving them when the weather is warmer, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

A privileged life she leads

Mosaic/mural in the Mission/Castro district of SF

Struggle is not a word that I would use to describe my life. That's not to say that it has always been easy. I have experienced challenges, grief, fears, disappointments and regrets.  I have felt overwhelmed, depressed, scared and out of control. I have struggled with emotions, relationships, experiences and beliefs, but I don't feel like life has been a struggle. Which has made it difficult for me to tackle this new koan. In many ways, it has brought up for me, again, awareness that, in this world of 6.5 billion people, I am an extremely privileged individual.

Consider these things:

• I cannot remember going hungry a single day of my life
• I was assured a K-12 education and due to my grades & support from my family was able to go to a private, high ranking university for my Bachelors degree
• I have never been physically or sexually assaulted by anyone
• I grew up in a family and community that allowed my to explore my own ideas and beliefs and that did not force me to take on theirs

I'm not sure how many 28 year-old women on this planet can say the same.

I mention my age because I know that I say all of this from the relative perspective of youth. I have a lot of living to do and I expect there will be challenges and experiences that I struggle with in the future. As terrifying as it is, there is one bullet point above that I can never be sure will remain true. And as one gets older and more entrenched in this world, the opportunities for grief and injury grow more real.

I am also aware that I began looking at this koan from perhaps the opposite perspective that my mother did. While she thought of the struggle of the individual experience through the story of the moth, I thought of the massive struggle of human and women's rights. So, having stood upon my soapbox and reminded us all of what we may often forget, I have decided to look at this koan from a more personal lens in my next few posts and really explore struggle within my life experience.

Teatime and Dancing with the Dogs

Restoration. Coming forth. Being. Alive. Dance. Word associations are fun to play with sometimes and in that playful outlook I begin by referencing Shelia Foster and her current interest in "What's in your belly, gestating, waiting for the right time to emerge?" I pose this question to myself as the celebration of Imbolc (pronounced"im-olk") approaches on February 2nd, also known as Groundhog Day or Candlemas. All are defined by ritual and lore and give us opportunities to mark the seasonal progression from the darkest days until the light lengthens staying with us longer and longer. This year my belly is protruding and quickening as I continue the process of finding out what it is, now, I am to do, here in the world. I left behind the role of teacher and find I am a student of many things. Lauryn your special gift of taking me to the stone labyrinth at Land's End has inspired me to create a labyrinth of stones in my backyard. A project I have asked my friends and family to help me with by contributing stones. Later in March, I will have a Labyrinth Blessing Party for all those who want to come. So I have been studying labyrinth designs and working on learning a special walking meditation. In my very part time job as a children's art instructor, I am more student than teacher as I share my explorations with the children, about how the lines come together and create shapes, learning about shading and color. I am also learning about dancing with my dogs and tea time with a spoon-dip of honey.

What needs to be spoken? Deep in the belly a kind of longing persists. As I discover parts of my personality through being a student of the enneagram, I learn my basic fear is loss of self. What is "myself"? How can I lose myself? Who am I? For so many years the definition of myself was a wife...a mother...a teacher...and at times the order of importance of that definition shifted and changed. Imbolc means, literally, "in the belly" (of the mother). The Goddess Brigit is depicted as a maiden, one who symbolizes purity, growth, and renewal, fertility and the dispensing of the old and making way for the new, so it resonates with me as I go about this birthing process of finding my new work. Celebrations mark relationships and define us. I plan on celebrating this February 2nd as a tribute to my ancestors who so long ago, at this time of returning spring, lit bonfires and candles to rejoice at the rebirth of the land. As I continue to reflect, I sense a new awareness of how important connection to a community is for me and look for ways to put myself out there in hopes of finding new dimensions of who I am. Building the labyrinth is a part of this journey undertaken here at midwinter. So I leave you with bright blessings at this time in which the earth is quickening and returning to fertility and new life. May the Goddess Brigit give her blessings to you this season as well.

nine with a one wing

To nuke or not to nuke?

Two years and almost four months ago, when Martin and I moved to San Francisco, we limited ourselves the amount of stuff that would fit in a Toyota Camry. And I admit that we did store (and still are storing) some stuff at mom and dad's before we left in order to get down to only a carload. We also donated and sold a lot of our belongings before we left as well. Since then, we've lived in two small studio apartments and have still accumulated more stuff than we need or use. It's hard not to in our consumerist culture. Every where you look someone or something is telling you what you need and want.

Martin making pesto, note the need to stack the ingredients due to the lack of counter space.

A few weeks ago, Martin and I decided to go through everything in the apartment and ask ourselves if we needed or wanted to keep it. We were able to donate two appliances, clothes, shoes, books, toys and a number of other household items. Some we had purchased. Some were gifts. Some were things we had brought with us. It's interesting how over time how one's perceptions of what one needs changes.

A flower bud on the kitchen table.

One of the appliances that we got rid of was our microwave. Not because we're afraid of the radiation or anything like that. When Krista, my sister and her boyfriend Tommy came to visit in August, they talked about how they didn't have a microwave. After they left, I kept thinking about how much counter space our microwave took up (did I mention we live in a studio apartment). So sometime in October, I asked Martin if we could put the microwave in the closet, just to see what it would be like to live without one. And we managed. We make popcorn on the stove. I heat my rice sock, for my headaches, in the oven. Leftovers go in a pot or a skillet. The extra time it takes, which is not always the case, is more than made up for by the ability to have room on the counter to actually make something.

Our newly found counter space.

Now that we have de-cluttered the apartment, I find myself torn between two conflicting impulses. On one hand, I want to continue purging and opening up more space. To continue questioning if I really need this or that. On the other hand, I find myself thinking about things that I want, things to fill the space I've cleared out in my internal and external space.

What Rubbish?

We have a garbage chute in our apartment complex. There is a sign on the chute asking people to bring their garbage down to the room if the chute is full. The garbage room is logically directly below the chute accessed through the garage or the street. Every weekend trash piles up outside the chute. Why? Do people not know where the garbage room is? Can they not infer where it is by the location of the chute and where the garbage bins are placed, biweekly, for the pick up? Or, are they just lazy? If so, what thought process makes it okay for them to leave their trash in fornt of the chute? Perhaps not the most elegant entrance into thinking about our koan, but I promise to make this deeper than it appears.

My first few questions relate to the person's awareness. Perhaps they are not aware of the location of the garbage room. The sign clearly states that there is one, and I will assume, for the purpose of my argument, that the person has taken the time to at least glance over said sign. So, let us be generous and say that the person does not know where the garbage room is. Why would someone make the choice to leave their garbage there instead of investigating where the room might be? The sign also states that there is a fine for leaving ones garbage outside the chute. Doesn't it also follow then that it is in the person's best interest to discover where the garbage room is and remove the looming threat of monetary consequences for their actions? Where is the drive to seek out this information?

But what if they know where the room is and they decide to leave their trash anyway? Thus the ethics of the matter. What makes it okay for the person to leave their trash? Why is it not their problem? Why are they exempt from this request to put their trash in the trash room? As a member of our apartment community, I do not look away. I do not leave my trash sitting in front of the chute. I do not assume that my trash is someone else's problem to deal with. I won't even put my trash in the chute if I see that it's filling up. What makes me different? Why do I make these choices while others make the opposite?

Finally, let's talk about the trash, by which I mean the contents of those plastic bags and twist ties. I am extremely fortunate to live in a place that allows me to be truly aware of what I'm throwing away. To be aware of what is going in a landfill and what is not. I can put all of my biodegradable waste - food scraps, soiled paper, used tissues/paper towels, etc. - in a compostable bag and the city will pay someone to come, pick up that waste and take it to a facility to be composted! The urban, community farm that I volunteer at uses that compost. That's awesome. Moving on to recycling. If it has a recycling symbol on it, I can recycle it. Numbers don't matter here. That means that every item that I put into my trash I know it can't be reused or recycled. And I can honestly say that I take out the trash about every three or four weeks, but I take the compost/recycling out at least once, more often twice, a week.

Why do I have this privilege? The technology is there. The infrastructure can be created. I'm sure it would create more jobs. Albeit dirty ones. So, why is it that most people don't have to think about the waste that they are producing and where it's going? In a culture that consumes so much, how often do we really think about what's left over?

The Koan

photo by Anthony Ayiomamitis

January and the darkening of the moon is upon us. In two days the new moon appears, revealing no light for the dark sky. These darkening days of winter are magical and bring forth a dormancy, ripe for reflection.

"A seeker of wisdom in the thrall of Winter Solstice should consider their celebration as a spiritual pilgrimage or even a quest...."
Montague Whitsel

What is ethical awareness? How do we live consciously? How does our knowing effect our doing? When I am aware of unhealthy conditions in myself or society and take no action is the impact different from when I am unaware?

"Each thought, each action in the sunlight of awareness becomes sacred. In this light, no boundary exists between the sacred and the profane."
Thich Nhat Hahn

The inquiry begins.