work

“The work you do while you procrastinate is probably the work you should be doing for the rest of your life.” -Jessica Hische

Oh, what's that?

reading about yoga practices?  yep.
researching nutrition?  yep.
working on all of that. 

with a bit of knitting on the side, just for kicks.

work? 
huh?
where?
alriiiiiight..  gah..



juice of the day: 

apples (4 tiny ones)
cucumber (1 med)
spinach (uh, some - 2.5 cups-ish)
water (1 c.)

totally addicted to whole grain (really grainy/seedy) bread, darkly toasted, with smooshed avocado & a couple of flecks of freshly cracked pepper.  knock-your-socks-off-good. 

and just while i'm thinking about it, i really hope i am the kind of mom who makes those things for her kid.  simple, delish, lovely, WHOLE foods.  i know it seems so much easier to throw tray of pizza rolls in the oven, but... i just hope...

p.s.  no pics of the pasta bc the leftovers were not as pretty.  or as good... maybe the only pasta in history that doesn't get better the next day?

"writing a BLOG"

don't push the river, it flows by itself.
- polish proverb



maybe it's just me, but i don't consider myself a "blogger".

i mean, i get that this is a web log.  clearly.  the host name alone won't let me forget it, eh?  but it's just funny/weird when i hear friends say "...on my/your blog". 

but at the same time, i often feel the urge to edit what i say or how i say it - simply because my words are being placed out there.  somewhere.

and then i try to remember that this is just a place for me to think out loud.  try to figure somethings out.  just a place for me to record a thought or two...  i've always been somewhat of a journal-er.  it's only ever been sporadic, just like my posting here.  i used to give myself a really hard time about it, and sometimes still do - whether it be about this place or even just my little 5-year diary.  "it's been 2 weeks since i wrote in my diary, i MUST be better about it".  but i think that for it to really be meaningful, it should be organic.  and just as in life, the thoughts and words come in spurts... an ebb and flow...  at times there seems to be so much to say, so many thoughts to think, so many quotes and moments to ponder, circumstances to digest...  and other times, there is only quiet.

the calm can be just as swollen with growth as the storm, if you listen.

i occasionally go back and read through old journals.  old web logs, too.  it's funny and silly to see my words as if for the first time.  it makes me wonder...

how i'll receive this post when i reread years from now.

and so, i am looking for my voice.  the real sounds of the thoughts that move through my skull.  i long to put all of that down somewhere - tangible.  to be revisited.  relived. 

it requires a new level of honesty.  a theme that is continually circling in my thoughts.  i feel like yoga is redefining what honesty means to me - beginning to show me things of myself that i haven't yet - seen?  acknowledged?  realized?  not sure what the right word would be here... 

i don't necessarily feel like i'm a LIAR.  i just want to be the most authentic i can be - in every possible moment.  to be present, transparent.

and yet mindful.

seems like such a contradiction sometimes, but i'd like to learn how to be so mindful that the authenticity is inevitable.

so, future ret (futuret - ha), when you read this, know that there will be times when i make a statement or express an idea that is in direct conflict with another thought i've uttered.  but it's all in an effort to grow.  a process i'm coming to see isn't linear.  not at all.  and so why should i experience this life as such?  i'm just going to go with it.  (well, i'll try to, anyway.)

where do you search me

i feel a deepening urge to search. 

a thirst for knowledge,

not of the head,

but deeper.

in my belly.

i'm engulfed with a sense of something...

looming?

many emails written, unsent.

many of them sent, but even still, unfinished.

the necessary things have been clarified.

rightfully so.

sometimes space is needed so that we may grow to fill the space.

sometimes it's wanted so that we feel able to breathe again.

i want this space,

this time,

this opportunity

to grow

my faith.

i am weak, but Thou art strong.

Where do you search me?

I am with you

Not in pilgrimage, nor in icons

Neither in solitudes

Not in temples, nor in mosques

Neither in Kaba nor in Kailash

I am with you O man

I am with you

Not in prayers, nor in meditation

Neither in fasting

Not in yogic exercises

Neither in renunciation

Neither in the vital force nor in the body

Not even in the ethereal space

Neither in the womb of Nature

Not in the breath of the breath

Seek earnestly and discover

In but a moment of search

Says Kabir, Listen with care

Where your faith is, I am there.

- kabir

...on love, again. it's an ongoing theme.

“But you have an idea of love; that idea is creating trouble – not love itself, but the idea. The idea is that, in love, lovers disappear into each other, dissolve into each other. Yes, there are moments of dissolution – but this is the beauty of life and all that is existential: that when lovers dissolve into each other, the same are the moments when they become very conscious, very alert. That dissolution is not a kind of drunkenness, that dissolution is not unconscious. It brings great consciousness, it releases great awareness. On the one hand they are dissolved – on the other hand for the first time they see their utter beauty in being alone. The other defines them, their aloneness; they define the other. And they are grateful to each other. It is because of the other that they have been able to see their own selves; the other has become a mirror in which they are reflected. Lovers are mirrors to each other. Love makes you aware of your original face."


“Hence, it looks very contradictory, paradoxical, when stated in such a way: “Love brings aloneness.” You were thinking all along that love brings togetherness. I am not saying that it does not bring togetherness, but unless you are alone you cannot be together. Who is going to be together? Two persons are needed to be together, two independent persons are needed to be together. A togetherness will be rich, infinitely rich, if both the persons are utterly independent. If they are dependent on each other, it is not a togetherness – it is a slavery, it is a bondage.

“If they are dependent on each other, clinging, possessive, if they don’t allow each other to be alone, if they don’t allow each other space enough to grow, they are enemies, not lovers; they are destructive to each other, they are not helping each other to find their souls, their beings. What kind of love is this? It may be just fear of being alone; hence they are clinging to each other. But real love knows no fear. Real love is capable of being alone, utterly alone, and out of that aloneness grows a togetherness.“

the Dhammapada

stolen.

Date a Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

credit

grey clouds

May the friendships you make be those which endure

and all of your grey clouds be small ones for sure.

And trusting in Him to Whom we all pray,

may a song fill your heart every step of the way.

(Irish Blessing)

sometimes, i get a little blue... a little down... and i throw myself a little (huge) pity party. that's been the theme of the last week. for no good reason, really. i mean, i could justify it. and i have. but the real story is this - c'est la vie. such is life. and life is what you make it. and about 45 other cliches.

but the thing is, there are people - close to me and far away - who are really in the throws of suffering. and i think that when we stop and look around... take a moment to make a phone call, write a card or donate a buck (thoughtfully), it can help alleviate the suffering that comes from selfishness. selfish thoughts, words and actions ultimately act as a magnifying glass for our anguish.

don't get me wrong, now. i'm the first to admit that the night before last, i had a glass of wine in a jacuzi tub and indulged in a good cry. (and maybe i cried a little last night, too.) taking care of one's self is top priority - for how can you fulfill your duty if you're not operating at your capacity - simply because of neglect? that's not helping anyone. take a moment, smell the roses, get a mani/pedi. do what you gotta do.

my point is, to reach out and hug someone, whether it's physical or not, to take a moment out of my self-pitying nonsense, dramatically altered my point of view and shocked me out of my funk. what a perfect surprise. to listen, to empathize, to sympathize... these are the ways to recover from my loss.

to give love is to cultivate love. just something to marinate on for this lovely friday.

oh, and i'm wondering if it's any coincidence that the literal rain clouds have lifted? for the entire week, the sky has been black, rotating between threatening and storming - mirroring my emotions. today, the sun is out, the sky is peppered with fluffy white cotton and the air is fresh and light, having just been through a deep, spring cleaning. all is right.

Photo [here]