I’ve never been one to mince my words… So here goes..

Before you read this, you need to know two things. First of all this post mixes religion and the issue of abortion. Secondly, this post has about a 50% chance of pissing you off..

You have been warned.

OK I should preface this whole thing by saying a bit about how I came to believe that I should even attempt to blog about this. I was raised in a seriously conservative home. My mind was made up for me about everything. Basically I didn’t honestly have a mind of my own until I was about 16.. No lie. So without explaining to you every single painstaking detail of my intricate religious background I bet you can surmise that I was raised to believe that God hated abortion, abortion is wrong, and even.. even that abortion will get you a front row seat on the first bus straight to Hell. Yep, that’s it in a nutshell.

Fast forward through my young adult life.. Passing over my wedding day and landing somewhere in January of 2003. That’s the month I found out I was pregnant for the first time. Now maybe I was shallow, or maybe just like everyone else. But I had rarely, prior to that day, really given much thought to the abortion issue. I had never extended my thought beyond, “it’s wrong.”

But something happened to me when I became a mother. And I have heard tell of women who prior to conceiving would never have given second thought to labeling themselves “pro choice.” I have heard of that, and I get that. I do. But for me, I had the opposite reaction.

Here’s where people start clicking out and getting angry..

I don’t believe in labeling myself, really. I think labels are often times a cover, or a button we wear when we are too lazy to develop our own thoughts, opinions, and ideals. Labels offer safe haven in conflict and allow the wearer to disappear behind thoughts and actions that they themselves do not necessarily have to take responsibility for. So, I never have put on the label “pro choice.” Because for me, it’s just not that simple.

So on that January day, or sometime around then, I realized something very important. Carrying a child, conceiving a child is a Holy responsibility. I believe it’s a miracle. I believe it’s beautiful. I believe it’s sacred. I believe every child has a right to live. But.. I believe outside of those beliefs, there is an outer ring of fundamental truths that I cannot sweep away in order to join the other side of this debate so that I can wear the label “pro life.” I also realized that day that what I had long believed about God’s opinion of abortion was just no longer true for me.

What it’s taken me 28 years to admit, and about 400 words to finally say here is that I believe that God is pro choice. Yes, that’s right, I said it. God is Pro-Choice. Now before you start throwing sharp objects at your monitors, allow me to explain.. Please?

Remember way back when in the Garden? Remember how God allowed Adam and Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge? Remember how He commanded them NOT to eat from it, warning them. And remember that He never stopped them? Remember that? That was choice. God allows us choices. He always has. He always will. Everyday we make choices about what’s right and wrong, and we never think twice.

While I certainly don’t have the time here to explain the extent of my thoughts on the Character and Nature of God, I feel fairly certain that He is Loving, Kind, and Forgiving. I also feel fairly certain that God would be saddened to see a woman in the disaster of making a decision about abortion. But the problem comes when we assume that somehow by outlawing something, or making it “wrong”, or removing the option - that we are somehow fixing a moral issue.

I believe that abortion is a moral issue. I believe it’s a choice, and an issue that we must deal with according to our own moral compass. In addition, I believe that a government cannot dictate morality to anyone. I believe that the government has no right to tell a woman what she can or can NOT do with her body. Each of us, alone, individually is accountable for the decisions we make. I do believe that we are responsible for the way we live our lives, and that choosing life is important. I would never applaud abortion as a “good choice.” I would never suggest it to a woman in a crisis. BUT I cannot rationalize removing her right to choice, her God-given right, because I believe she alone can do that.

I don’t have the solution to this issue. I don’t have the answers. I wish it were simpler. I wish that women were never placed in the situation to even feel like they had to make the decision to abort. I wish that the morality of the whole of the world was pure. But that’s not the world we live in. And so, I take my place right in the middle, wandering about on this issue. But ultimately hoping that there could be light on both sides of the argument. Hoping that somehow we can one day find an answer.

Under the weather..

Today I woke up feeling sick. Not deathbed sick, just that achey “things aren’t quite right” kind of sick. I have been sick, the kind of sick that lands you on IV antibiotics in the hospital. But most of us, myself included, don’t get sick like that often. But this morning I felt under the weather.. Sick? Perhaps.

Illness is the body’s way of telling us something. So when I woke up feeling just exactly as if someone had crushed my body and stolen all of its heat, I decided to listen. It’s hard, because the urge is there.. Run to the cabinet, get the Advil. Numb it. Get better as fast as possible. We are like that, aren’t we? We’re tired, we drink coffee. We are sore, we take medicine. Reactive.. We are so reactive.

This morning, as I lay in bed with my alarm beeping every nine minutes, I decided to just let it be. I didn’t get up and shoot meds. I didn’t get up and whine (ok, I did a little) about my sore muscles. I just got up and decided to accept my discomfort. As the morning wore on, headache and all, I became proactive instead of reactive.

I took my husband to work, deposited Simon at his preschool and quickly shot back as much wheatgrass as I could manage. I was going to beat whatever it was in my body that decided that today was the day to give up and be sick. I felt better. Better enough to make it through the grocery store and home. I felt decent until about midday. I then made a HUGE amount of green juice and promptly downed half of it. Again, proactive is my mantra here..

Sadly by about 3 pm or so, I was miserable. Despite my great efforts at outwitting my body, I felt just as dead as I had earlier and a little bit worse. Nutrition doesn’t always fix things, I guess. I tried, I really did. But I decided to just rest for the evening. And wouldn’t you know, I felt better not long after that.

I don’t tell this rather mundane story just to “blog” and register my life on the ticker. I tell it because of what it has taught me. Ever the student, I have learned a valuable lesson today, from being sick.

What I learned is that my body is not broken. There’s no defect in the system. Whatever was going on (and still is to some extent) on my insides was not a mistake. I believe our bodies are amazing creations. We are capable of so much. We can heal ourselves or harm ourselves. There is surely plenty to be said for taking care of yourself, eating well, and getting the things we need. There is plenty to be said for listening to our pain and knowing when to actually reach for those pills. But there is a disconnect that I think we have to find before we can understand what is truly happening to us when we are under the weather. There is fear we have to let go of, discomfort we have to overcome, and impulses we must break free from before we can ever be proactive.

Illness is not always a mistake. It’s not always bad to feel discomfort and pain. Sometimes that pain, even when it seems unbearable, is doing more than we can ever imagine. Sometimes the little aches and pains, headaches and fevers are doing work that we can’t even see. Sometimes we have to go with it. Stop trying to fix it. And just be sick.

Every Monday

When you are a parent, and insanely busy, having time to yourself is priceless. In this family, between Dave and I, we have a pact. Each of us picks a night of the week to have to ourselves. Typically he picks Friday and I pick Monday. As soon as the workday is over we disappear for the entirety of the evening. It’s a wonderful, wonderful thing and has helped us both. I have found over the past few weeks as I have been observing my own time on Monday nights that I am such a strange creature. Left to my own devices; devoid of snacks, pullups, carseat straps, hands to hold, and little blond heads to watch out for - I am a totally strange creature.

Sometimes I go to see a movie. Sometimes I meander for hours through stacks of books. Sometimes I take my iPod and wander around the miles of trails in The Woodlands until the night sets in. Some nights I get a salad, and a big glass of tea at my favorite cafe and read. Some nights I shop for dresses.. It’s nothing extraordinary. But somehow, it makes me feel more calm.

Tonight as I pulled the car into the garage, locked it, walked to the back door, and into the kitchen; I felt strange. Food had been prepared. I smelled remnants of a dinner I missed. I noticed forgotten trains on the side of the sofa. I saw miniature sandals lined up on the tile, wet from the sprinkler. And in that moment, I felt joy. I felt like things were just as they should be.

Sometimes I like missing things. I always hear mothers say they feel horrible when they miss even the little things. But for me, I like coming home to a house that’s been alive, smelling a dinner that happened without me. I like walking into the upstairs bathroom and seeing toys in the tub and recently used towels hanging on the rack. I like hearing the noise of the boys’ fans roaring with nighttime sleep upstairs. And I like it that it all happens, once in a while, without me.

As much as I love being needed. As fulfilling as it is to know that I am really the only one in the house that understands where everything goes in the dressers. AS wonderful as that is, I like to know that life goes on when mamma takes the night off.

Every Monday I have this opportunity. I have the chance to let go and do something by myself. To a single person, or even a person without children; this may not seem like such a big deal. Sure, I go to yoga alone all the time. I have time alone at night (like now) when everyone else is asleep. But it’s wonderful to just have time. Uncommitted free time. And it’s mine.. Every Monday.

Blossoming..

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. Anais Nin

I am in a pattern of learning, growing, and blossoming. I have heard this quote so many times, and have always loved it. But it’s especially meaningful to me right now. The past five weeks have been incredible. Really the past six months have been incredible. But it’s all starting to happen now. Change is happening now. I can’t quite figure out if I have been preparing for this change for the past few months, or if I am only now ready to see it. Or, I wonder, if maybe it’s just really happening now because I finally believe in myself enough to let it happen.

I love how Nin said, “and the day came..” It indicates that somehow prior to that moment, it wasn’t possible. Or maybe that prior to that day, or that instance, or that opportunity.. And the day came. It’s perfect. There’s a resolution to it, relief. Somehow, the wait is over. Beautifully resolving. We’re all waiting for that day, aren’t we? I used to wonder if I had missed that day. I don’t think that anymore.

Change takes place on so many levels. I believe life is always changing us. We are constantly blooming, growing, getting pruned back. If we are honest with ourselves, we can easily see these patterns, even if they’re painful. But there’s risk in real growth. The natural patterns of life force us to grow to a certain extent. Natural aging, change, and life lead us through the ebb and flow of growth. But there is growth - blossoming, even, beyond that.

Nin goes on to talk about risk. Ultimately implying that the risk to stay the same was more painful than the risk to blossom.. grow, change, bloom. I think many of us have a hard time associating change with risk. As if somehow it’s a choice. I don’t honestly always think change is a choice. In fact more often than not, I believe change takes its own shape in our lives. But I think what Nin was referring to here is a conscious change. A deep, personal, intimate change. Change that revolves around singular choices with decidedly opposite results. It is those very changes that matter. And it is those changes that we so often run from. Change, choice, risk.. To the extent that we allow change to affect us, to the extent that we make choices that forever alter the landscape of our futures, to the extent that we learn to risk; it is there that we find true blossoming. True growth.

I fight back the urge to shake my fist in the air at the past.  I become angry at somehow not being able to understand this before.  Why now? Why here?  Why, at age 29, do I find more clarity, direction, purpose, vision, and hope than I ever have? Why?  It certainly doesn’t make sense.  It doesn’t add up.  But then again, neither does the way a flower blooms in the desert.  It just happens.  This beautiful unfurling.  Blossoming, out of my old self, and into a beautiful flower.

Five weeks…

Five weeks can change your life..

I have been quiet lately. Mostly because things have been so hectic.  But also because I just haven’t felt like writing.  I go through spurts where I’d prefer to sit on the sidelines and watch, listen, and observe.. I am in the middle of one of those spurts right now.

It’s been five weeks since I went raw. Five weeks of whole live food.  Amazing.  Really.

I’ll be back when I have more to say, I promise..

Oh and Happy Birthday Matt!!  May your last year of your 20’s be as fabulous as mine as shaping up to be..

Go Big or GO HOME!

So today in yoga, I was lucky (yes, lucky) to have Cisco as my teacher. Cisco is the kind of teacher, much like Jen, who makes you work just a little harder than you think you can. His classes are tough, funny, and engaging. I always love it when he comes up to “the hot little orange room” to teach.

It’s not unusual for the teacher, no matter who it is, to tell a story during the floor series. I have multiple theories for why they do this. One of which is that they probably think that by telling us stories we will ignore how brutally hard they are working us. Here’s a hint, we DON’T!! Anyhow, there I was between Cobra and Locust and Cisco starts into his story.. He begins by telling us he works from home, and often uses TV to drown out the silence. Just the other day, he was watching some particularly horrid reality show and heard this phrase,

“Go big or go home.”

He told us (after the second set of Locust) that he rewound the DVR again and again just listening to this phrase. Of course we’ve all heard this before. I know I have. Usually it’s related to some sport where the main object of the game is to triumph in strength and endurance. Or it’s indicative of some sort of success (financial, relationship, etc..) where one must make a splash to be recognized. But today, as Cisco pointed out, it took on a slightly different shade. At least for me.

I don’t go into that room to do half a class. I don’t get dressed, pack my bag, get into my car and drive to the studio for mediocre practice. For Cisco, he used this motivation to finish a project that had been haunting him. But he went on to apply it to our yoga practices. In the same way a coach might motivate a sports team, he crafted his words together. And throughout the rest of the class, he reminded us.. Go big or go home.

In the yoga room, there’s no competition. There’s no winner and loser. There’s only you and your mat. You and your reflection. You and the complex body that you have. All the muscles, fascia, tissue, organs, joints, bones, and skin. That’s your team. But the true competitor for the yogi is the mind.

I go back and forth with fighting myself and fighting my mind. But today I tried very hard to just let go. And towards the end of class, as Cisco reminded us on that one last sit-up I chose to go big.

What I want…

I am always telling myself to stop wanting so much.  But I wonder, if I really listed all of the things I want, would they be all that selfish?  I don’t think so.. So here goes my list..

I want to have time to write.
I want my children to rest so they aren’t cranky all afternoon.
I want more (yes, MORE) time to devote to my yoga practice.
I want for Dave to feel settled in his schooling.
I want for Dave to achieve all that he wants to achieve, finish his Master’s and have his dream job.
I want to get more sleep.
I want to be more patient.
I want to understand my path more deeply.
I want to go to to Teacher Training.
I want to pass on the things I have learned to the ones that I love.
I want the war to end.
I want to pass on a legacy of compassion and hope.
I want to play my piano for hours.
I want for my choices to be the right ones and never hurt the people I care about.
I want Simon and Eli to feel more love than I did as a child.
I want for there to be a cure to the suffering I see in my nephew’s lives.
I want to heal.
I want to understand..

I want.. I want.. Well, that’s a start.  This is a small list of what I want..

What do you want?

Impact

From what we drive to what we eat, we are impacting this world.  We may not even realize it.  We throw things away, let our cars idle in the parking lot, consume massive amounts of electricity, and throw away thousands of dollars on conveniences a year.  We are impacting the world.

I am not here to preach to you all about changing.  I believe in the long run, we will all be forced to change.  One day, we’ll all be held accountable to the ways we are destroying the world, our bodies, and the planet around us.  But wouldn’t it be better to implement changes now?  Wouldn’t it be nice to learn now what to do?  Wouldn’t it be great to know now that we are making a difference??

I didn’t start this year with the goal of “going green.” But somehow this cause has found me.  And I find myself living out this huge challenge/dilemma every single day.  What kind of example do I want to set for my kids?  After all, this is their earth.  We’re not doing ourselves any favors by denying that.  Let’s say you don’t have kids, that OK too.  Ever look around you and wish the people who came before you had treated this planet a little bit nicer?? Sure you do, just think about it the next time you are putting gas in your car.

So what can you do??  Plenty of things.. And they’re all much simpler than you think they are.

Unplug and turn off.  Just do it.
Stop driving so much.  Consolidate your trips.
Never let you car idle.
Buy a smaller/more efficient car.
Carpool
RECYCLE!!
compost
Wash your laundry in cold water.
Spend one day a week on an economic fast. (no spending)
Teach your kids the value of reusing things.
Use cloth grocery bags
Stop eating meat
Eat live food and stop eating out of boxes

Those are just a handful of the things I believe we can all do.  Give it a try.  And remember to consider the impact that your lifestyle is having on the world around you.

Moving with grace

I wanted to get this out before the evening swallowed me up.

Today has been a rough day. It’s just one of those Fridays that reminds me why parenting, mothering, and raising kids is seriously THE hardest job in the entire world. NO kidding. But I sat today and pondered something that I really really want to learn. Something I believe is kinda my next step in my journey through yoga, parenting, life, all of it.

I call it moving with grace. I was reminded of what this really really means last night as I was in Jen’s class. Jen has a way of giving the dialog that just makes you do the class. Jen gives Bikram’s grueling 90 minute dialog with grace. It’s fluid, it’s effortless, it’s lovely. I’d dare even call it poetic at times. And something about her tone, the way she speaks, the pauses she takes, her encouragement, and the fluidity of her teaching that makes me work harder. This is not to say, of course, that she is the only teacher who I believe teaches this well. But she’s a great example of moving with grace.

So today as I have struggled, argued, and fought my way through this day as MOM, I have been pondering how much I need to learn this skill. Moving with grace. Fluid, easy, effortless. Dancers seem to be born with this skill. Singers too. But for me, moving with grace is also about intention, our motives, reactions, and the attitude we take along the way.

I cannot claim to be a good example of this on my mat or in my life as MOM. But I am learning, and hopefully improving. And someday, maybe soon, I will have one of those graceful days that will feel as lovely and easy as Jen’s class was last night.. Maybe. Eventually, in the future..

Namaste..

Feet in the sand.

Days move with incessant motion. Time brands me with its relentless change. I struggle to hold tight to the tiniest lip of the door frame into my life. Some days I wander about, functioning on the most minimal resources. And even in this chaos I am peaceful.

Time, life, change, days, sunshine, tides, rain, laughter, anger, heat, wind, fear, anxiety, moon, motion, hope, pulling, stretching, giving, crying, watching, running, music, home, partnership, mother, birth, death love, passion, sex, words, thoughts, dreams, life.. life..

I stand firm on the oceanside. Watching the waves of change. I root myself deep into the murky water.. The briny ocean laps around my ankles, threatening to remove my foundation. I am equal and simultaneously changing. I am exactly the same.

This is my time, my dream, my life.. MY LIFE.

I lift my arms, higher.. Reaching up and then down again, hands to my chest in prayer. I bow to the never-ending Prana that courses through me. I offer a prayer of life and thanksgiving. I will not be shaken.

This is my day, my hope, my calling..

I will never give up and never forget to hope. I will never lose touch or forget the voices in my life. I will listen, and remember.

I am not the same person. I am changing like the sand under my feet. But that change solidifies my place in this world. This intensive classroom session. I am forever the student.

This is my life. MY LIFE..

And here I am. Rooted, grounded, solid. Even as the sand washes out from underneath my feet..