Stop the Presses!

There’s an old newspaper phrase we used back in the day when a hot story came in at the last moment or we had to make a dramatic correction in a story already being printed. “Stop the presses!” meant that the printing machinery needed to halt immediately so a change could be made. Sometimes, I think, we need to “stop the presses” in our lives, too. Just sit back, and take stock of all that’s going on before we proceed any further.

            Vacations can be good for this (I was just on one). So can illness (as long as one survives). The birth of a baby will do wonders (though the presses must be started up again soon, if only for the birth announcement!). Deaths, of course, are also effective for stopping everything in a hurry. Everyone understands when you drop out of sight for these reasons. But really, no excuse should be necessary.

            Last week, when I was up in the mountains, I didn’t write at all. I didn’t network or blog. I didn't review any books or read anything that required me to take notes. I watched my “kids” (now grown men), kayaking and swimming. I chatted with family members. I observed the sunset, the ducks, and the bass circling my toes. And while I was not doing all the things I normally find so utterly necessary, I realized once again—much like when I was very ill, or after my mom passed away, or when I gave birth—that life goes on quite handily when I retreat. Our presence, our work, our perpetual effort is not really needed at every moment. (Not condoning slacker-dom, but even when one plays music there are “rests.”)

            Sometimes, it’s okay to stop the presses. No doubt you’ve heard the saying, “It’s okay to cry.” Well, it’s also okay to be still…to stop, drop, and breathe. I was reminded of that simple but essential fact last week. Just thought I would "share."

Re-Charging Batteries

Time to re-charge! Taking my sister's dog for a boat ride (go, Mindy!), swimming, osprey-watching, cooking for the family, dining out, sleeping late...and some writing and yoga... relaxing, renewing and re-being. Back soon...depending upon when the charging is "complete!"

New Moon, New Projects

Since another New Moon is upon us, I decided the other day that it would be a good time to de-clutter my home office and make room for some new projects that I’m about to begin. This may sound simple enough, but though I’m not exactly a hoarder, I do tend to hang onto objects--letters, books, photos, papers, and bits of nostalgia like the plastic necklace I was given one year by the Queen at the Renaissance Faire. (Hey, you just never know when a plastic blue necklace bestowed by the Queen is going to come in handy!)

            I will be the first to admit that I do have a bit of a clutter problem, and that I’ve never been good at letting go of material objects like stuffed animals and flip flops. I’m not sure why some people are experts at this (I have friends who regularly de-clutter and are loathe to hang on to anything that is not immediately useful), and others who, like me, are equally loath to say good-bye to a perfectly good if bent paper clip or a butterfly candle (that, in my case, can never be lit because it was once a gift I gave to my mother).

            Although I’m aware that all this clutter is a) not useful b) distracting and c) possibly even somewhat harmful in terms of its impact on my productivity, I still find it difficult to tackle the project of de-cluttering head-on. Yes, a shelf here and there, a drawer now and then. But to face the overwhelming, well, let’s call it what it is—disaster-- of my workspace is quite daunting. And so…I usually simply close my eyes to my surroundings and write.

            After all, writing, not de-cluttering, is my passion. But there comes a time when one must look one’s self squarely in the eye, and ask, “Does that towering pile of books that you never read really serve you well?” or “Does that collection of old diaries really have a purpose?” Or…"Why the decaying macaroni picture that your kid—now 30—made when he was three?”

          To welcome and make space for the new-- I’ve been told by the yogic sages as well as by others who call themselves "professional organizers"--we must let go of the old. Still, I find it a challenge to determine whether all clutter is equally useless, or whether some—like the aforementioned necklace—may one day rise from the dust and ashes to inspire a blog.

Blackberry Pies and Butterflies

It’s that time of year again—the blackberry patch in my backyard is laden with ripe, juicy berries. These are great eaten straight out of the patch—pick and pop into your mouth (rinse first to avoid insects, no pesticides here), or sprinkle on cereal. My three young men (and one older), however, love them baked in pie. As my youngest son, a recent college grad, pointed out the other day, “Mom, no one gets to taste berries like these!” For sure, the berries you get in a grocery store are a pale second to those we pick straight from our own patch.

            Not everyone, however, appreciates the blackberry. Over the years, a number of people have suggested I dig up my “unsightly” blackberry patch. Just last year I received a citation from our town inspector for the “weeds” in my yard. Needless to say, I phoned the man and dragged him out back to see the “weeds” up close. He rescinded the citation, but nevertheless suggested we blacktop our yard so we could use our garage (well…the man had a point. Because of the blackberry patch there is no way to drive to the garage, but I prefer not to “pave paradise”).

            This year, as I was baking the first of several blackberry pies, and cursing the pie dough (which I detest making, even with my husband’s help), I recalled that my mother, too, used to complain every time she made a piecrust (my niece, a pastry chef, has patiently tried to teach me, but to no avail). Just as I was lamenting this fact (I have looked into frozen pie crusts, but they just don’t taste the same, and many have unhealthy additives), a gorgeous butterfly lilted by the backdoor screen (pictured above). My mother adored butterflies, and since her passing 12 years ago, I have always taken their occasional visits as a sign. In this case, I was sure that my mother was saying, “Keep up with the pies! Yes, it’s a pain to make the crust, but treasure the moment!” In fact, when my kids were little she always used to say, “Treasure this time; these are the best years of your life.”

            I’m not sure about that, as I rather think that any year I’m living is the best year ever (kind of like, as a friend once commented, any flight from which he returns is a great flight). But Mom—and my butterfly visitor—certainly had a point. Instead of complaining about baking pies in 90-degree weather (after all, I do have an air conditioner), why not revel in the joy that blackberry season is here? Why not appreciate the fact that I had the foresight NOT to dig up that unsightly bramble patch when we bought this property—that I had the wisdom to wait and see what would bloom?

            Normally, I avoid sugar. But excuse me while I pour a cup of decaf and cut myself a big piece of pie. Once a year, a blackberry pie made from my own backyard is true cause for celebration. If you happen to stop by, I will give you a slice.

           

            

I Believe...I Can Touch the Sky

Last Friday, I left my house and trekked into NYC at 6 a.m. to take part in the annual Summer Solstice in Times Square (this was my second; I missed last year as I was celebrating the solstice Kundalini yoga-style in New Mexico). When I arrived (with my dear friend D), I didn’t feel quite as excited as I had the first time, but pretty soon the magic of yoga surrounded me and I was flying high. There’s something so fun about doing yoga amidst skyscrapers! It’s just that feeling of "If I can do yoga here, I can do yoga anywhere and in any situation!"

            I know I’m a bit of a yoga nut (and if you don’t like reading about yoga you might want to skip this post), but on the other hand, yoga isn’t just about poses. Far more difficult than doing tree pose or lotus in Times Square, is using one’s calm yoga mind to block out all the distractions. One of my favorite things about yoga (and it’s probably true for runners, motorcyclists, musicians, and anything else that requires concentration) is that it helps you turn everything else off. It’s like a bubble bath for the brain…you just enter your yoga realm wherever you are, and come out feeling fresh, cleansed, and clear.

            Another thing I love about yoga in Times Square is the feeling that the world IS changing for the better. The organizers say that they started 11 years ago with three people. On Friday, 16,000 yogis practiced throughout the day in the Times Square location. That’s a lot of yogis---and it reflects the fact that yoga IS taking over the world!

            Yes, folks, yoga is taking over the world. Peace, love, harmony, commitment, dedication, non-harming, trust, compassion, et.al… are taking over the world. We yogis are good at manifesting our dreams, so you’d better believe it! Sure, there’s still a lot that needs fixing, and plenty problems exist everywhere. But if we can grow from 3 to 16,000 just in NYC, I believe change is possible.

 As the song goes, do I “...believe I can fly?” No, not really. But I do believe I can touch the sky. In fact, the picture below (the brainchild of my friend D) proves I can! 

Thanks for Sharing

Today an unexpected visitor arrived in my backyard. I live in a bustling little town surrounded by highways, so I was a bit surprised to see a deer outside my kitchen window. She didn’t stay long and I don’t know where she went next, but I certainly enjoyed her presence while she was here (I know deer are common “pests” in some areas, uprooting gardens and the like, but for me an occasional visit from the wildlife world is a pleasure). In the past few months I’ve also seen woodchucks and an opossum in my backyard as well as--indoors--an uncanny number of kitchen ants (these, I will admit, I’m not overly fond of). Moths and butterflies are common this spring, as well as the occasional stray cat.

            “Sharing” my house and backyard with animals and insects can be annoying (I won’t go into the details of the spider I found crawling up my leg in my bed one night). Or the squirrel that had settled into my attic (we found him another home). I remember a friend once saying when we first bought our house that we needed to “bring the outside in.” I think she was talking interior decorating with sunlight and plants, not rodents.

            In any case, it seems that all these visitors—some wanted, some unwanted—have been giving me a message of late. And if we can’t share our space with an occasional mouse or fly, how are we expected to share with other human beings? (Who can be just as messy, destructive and irritating as the aforementioned squirrel, if you ask me.)

            It’s easy to lose sight of the fact that this planet is just as much mine as a spider’s or to think that I “deserve” a better, brighter, roomier space than say a bear, or a deer or a bumble bee. It’s not really true, though. The deer in my backyard today reminded me of the fact that we are all in this together, and whether we sink or swim depends a lot on how well we can get along with one another.

            I’ll be the first to admit that certain crawly creatures (and some flying ones, such as bats) really push my buttons. But without them where would we be? The animals and insects that have entered my life recently just seem to be reminders that we are all essential parts of a Divinely-inspired universe—whether we walk, crawl, swim, fly, gallop or dance our way through life.

Reflections

Last week my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary by going to a lovely French restaurant. We were sitting at a quiet table in a corner when the waiter ushered in another couple and seated them nearby. I heard the woman mention that it was their wedding anniversary, and unable to stop myself, I blurted out, “It’s ours, too!”

            A few pleasantries and congratulations ensued, and my husband and I went back to eating our meal. But within a few moments, the man at the next table asked where we were from. We asked where they were from. They asked if we had kids. We asked if they had kids. And soon we were discussing all manner of things, from the price of condos in Hoboken to the price of tea in China (well, not really). Though we didn’t exchange phone numbers or highly personal information, I felt an immediate connection to and affinity for these people, though quite likely I will never see them again. And that, of course, got me thinking…

            This month, I’ve been participating in a 40-day meditative practice called Global Sadhana. Basically, it’s an online effort where people from all over the world come together to recite a mantra. The words of this particular mantra are connected to a sutra (a thread, saying, or aphorism) that was given by Yogi Bhajan, who brought Kundalini yoga to the U.S. The sutra is simply: “Recognize that the other person is you.”

            The experience in the restaurant the other night brought this sutra from the heavenly ethers of yoga-land into my real life. It would have been quite easy not to have mentioned that it was our anniversary, too (the fact that I did so resulted in the staff singing to all four of us, a sweet but always embarrassing outcome of admitting such things to waiters). It would have been easy to have eaten our meal in silence, or to have concentrated on our own private conversation (after 36 years, yes, we still have things to talk about besides our children). Or to have considered chatting with the unknown couple at the next table to be rude or intrusive.

            Instead, simply connecting with “It’s our anniversary, too!” led to a delightful interchange. And the experience made me realize that as much as I sometimes feel and believe that I am unique and different from everyone else (as are you) we are also very, very much alike. It made me think about the fact that many times when I’m annoyed or irritated or downright angry with someone, that person may be feeling much the same way about me for some of the very same reasons. It made me think that when I’m feeling afraid to connect, maybe the other person is feeling that way too. In so many ways our thoughts, our hopes, our dreams and even our irritations are reflected in every single person we meet.

            “Recognize that the other person is you” seems simple enough on the surface. But to live with this awareness day-to-day and moment-to-moment is an entirely different matter indeed.