surrendering to imperfection

When you have been a perfectionist most of your life, the concept of imperfection is a foreign one. It almost feels like giving up on ideals and high standards when really it is more about letting other things and people work throughout a situation and embracing the beauty of that which is imperfect and real and in the moment. The pursuit of perfection is relentless, endless and prolongs any sense of gratification or peace in the moment. Imperfection allows for the raw beauty of what is.

On Facebook the other day this quote was posted: When you surrender to the wind, you can ride it. Toni Morrison. Surrendering isn't the same as giving up. It is letting go of the illusion of control and working with the Universe.

I found a book called, "The Spirituality of Imperfection: Storytelling and the Search for Meaning", by Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham. The back cover states: "'I am not perfect' is a simple statement of profound truth, the first step toward understanding the human condition - for to deny your essential imperfection is to deny your own humanity." A quote from inside the book: "The spirituality of imperfection speaks to those who seek meaning in the absurd, peace within the chaos, light within the darkness, joy within the suffering, without denying the reality and even the necessity of absurdity, chaos, darkness and suffering."

Spirituality is about healing. This makes sense to me when I go to Alanon and there is room for what I believe. I don't have to believe what everyone else believes in order to belong. I am able to live my own relationship with my Higher Power. And room is made within me for grace to work its mystery.

I've been having a hard time deciding how our schedule needs to work. After being told a few months back that it is impossible to find an accordion in Milwaukee, I found a used accordion that my son can use for free (the problem being that he needed a youth, or 12 bass accordion, to start out on and I didn't want to have to buy an instrument for the short time before he would outgrow it) and a teacher, who happens to teach piano at my son's school (but I found her elsewhere). When my son brought home the accordion, he played "Hot Cross Buns" for me and his father. I especially loved how he improvised a little bow at the end of his performance.

The way that things came together was amazing, mostly because the offer of the accordion came the same day that I decided to let go of worrying how to make it happen. And then once it did come together, I worried that he would stick with it and I started asking myself how I could be a better example to my son in terms of living and practicing my own passion.

But first I had to narrow it down. I am interested in so many things; the many stacks of books to read attest to that. In the past few years I have tried martial arts, belly dancing, boot camp, creative writing, knitting, zen meditation, hula hooping, NIA, dream work, rock climbing, and more. I am still interested in many of these things. I still find value in zen meditation. I write down my dreams in the book next to my bed upon waking. I will always find time to write, in various forms, whether it be blogging, journaling, facebook statusing, writing poems, etc. The woman who led the creative writing lab that I was in a few months ago told me that she had some ideas for where I could submit my work. I may still do that. I thought about joining my friend's hula hooping class which is on my one off day, the one day where I don't have to get up in the morning to go to work. I signed up for a Chinese class, something I have always wanted to do.

Now I have decided not to go to any groups or classes for the above mentioned interests. I have decided to focus on my main passion, yoga. Yoga is my main meditation practice, the one thing over the past 9 years that has always made sense when nothing else did. I would like to go to more classes. I just finished a book called "Yoga From the Inside Out: Making Peace with Your Body through Yoga" by Christina Sells. I'd started it quite a long time ago, and it was finally time to finish it. I've been waiting until I had the perfect body for yoga before going to more classes and pursuing more intensified training. Sell's book is filled with anecdotes of woman who made peace with their bodies after years of eating disorders and being at war with their bodies.

So I've decided to take my imperfect body and hit the mat amongst the seemingly perfect bodies. I bought an unlimited membership, a rather monumental decision for me because of the implied commitment, the lack of schedule (it's not like a class that I have to go to because of paying for a whole class), the money. It's only $35 more per month than if I continue to go to just one class per week. And the funny thing was that once I announced my intention on Facebook, I was asked the one question I didn't want to answer. How much is it? And then I realized that "luxuries" are different for different people. I don't go out to the bars, which I consider to be very expensive, and yet it's not something that people tend to think of as a luxury. But really, I don't have to justify this to anyone.

I've also found a teacher training program that would involve a 10 month, 1 weekend a month commitment that would be doable with my family and my 2 jobs. I don't feel that I need to have the goal of becoming a yoga teacher at a studio in order to do it. It would be a neat way of immersing myself in the foundations of yoga philosophy. I am going to start with an Ayurveda consultation and think about it some more. There is a studio in town that has the goal of bringing yoga into the public school and working with at-risk kids, something I could get really passionate about.

Meanwhile, I will keep the simple goal of getting to a yoga class whenever I can. That is enough for right now. I will try not to make it about the number of classes I make it to per week. The other day I found myself racing to a class, almost running over some people (wearing black and crossing in the middle of the street) and being run over myself, and thinking now this is crazy! Why am I doing this just to get some peace?! And yet once I got to the mat, almost ready to throw up because of how warm it was in the room, I started to connect my mind to my body again and feel my energy flow again. At the end of the evening I had found the tiniest cloud of peace, and that was enough.

letting go

Tonight at Alanon I experienced what felt like my 100,001st lesson in letting go. I felt like confetti should fall out of the sky and I should be offered some sort of cash reward. But alas, it's an old lesson. And yet with new awareness. While I may be a good teacher and leader and organizer, I have a lot to learn about letting people go in order to be where they need to be.

Tonight I thought about how I am always telling my mother lately how she should relax due to her high blood pressure. When my boyfriend came over to help our son with a project, I started asking him all kinds of questions about what he has been doing while offering him ideas of things to do. Once again I am reminded that it is not my job to fix everyone around me. My Higher Power doesn't tell me what I should be doing; I am allowed to make my own mistakes in my own timing.

Yesterday my son did not want to go to our first cross country skiing lesson. He even told me that I was not his favorite mother that day (and I am his only mother). When he is unsure of what an experience will entail, he resists and decides he will not enjoy it. For my part, I try to shoe horn him into an experience in order to make him enjoy it. Since I have been cross country skiing before, I was telling him what to do. It seemed to come naturally to him, and he was starting to enjoy himself. And then we reached the big hill, which in reality is not a big hill at all in the grand scheme of things. We had to walk sideways up the hill before skiing down. I didn't want to ski down at all, being afraid of heights. So I focused my attention (and my anxiety) on my son, who started to struggle because he was taking big steps, and he was starting to slide back down the hill. Just then, one of my skis came off my boot, so I was busy trying to get my ski back down as I helplessly watched him slide all the way back down. One teacher ended up going to help him, while the other told me to ski down. As I came back to the hill, my son was still struggling. I heard him exclaim: I have had quite enough of this! So I told him to breathe. After a moment, he went over to the hill and started going up again. The teacher (and I of course had to chime in as well) told him to go to the part where there were several grooves/tracks to follow, but he insisted on doing it his way from where he was. And he made it work. At first I had my heart in my mouth as he made his descent, afraid he'd fall and hate cross country skiing forever. He did fall, laughing. And somehow it was bliss to watch him ski down while yelling "Geronimo"! So the next time he made his attempt up the hill, I decided to ski around the soccer field on my own and enjoy a moment to myself while he enjoyed his moment. Once I stopped trying to manage his experience, I felt like I was truly with him.

The thing is that we can only truly help others by helping ourselves, especially if they are not asking for our help. By letting go of a moment and not trying to control it, we allow ourselves to be in that moment with our loved ones. Loving unconditionally means not trying to change or fix anyone. What they do isn't about us anyhow. Letting go takes love. And loving means letting go. I don't think I will be done learning this lesson any time soon...

hibernation

Our wishes foretell the capacities within ourselves: they are harbingers of what we shall be able to accomplish. What we can do and want to do is projected in our imagination, quite outside ourselves, and into the future. We are attracted to what is already ours, in secret. Thus passionate anticipation transforms what is already possible into dreamt-for reality." ––Goethe

It's been a while since I've blogged, and I am not entirely sure why. The holidays were quiet, and my friends said that our Christmas smiles were the biggest ones they had seen us in a while. I had knitted father and son hats, and both father and son have been wearing both of said hats with a show of pride. I of course continue to notice the mistakes I made, but I realize that each day I give them imperfect stitches of love.

I tend not to make resolutions on New Year's Eve; rather, I start making resolutions during my birth month in November as I ponder the year of life to come. I think about all the things that have come to fruition in the previous year as I ponder my future goals. I went to an advising appointment to find out about getting my teaching certificate. I thought that because I have a master's degree, I would have to pay grad school fees, and thankfully this is not so. However, it doesn't feel fair that I have to do student teaching when I have already taught for 7 years at the college level and another 8 years of elementary school (grades 1 through 8). While it would be nice to finish the teaching degree that I started, I rather think there is something else I am meant to be doing in my community.

This week brought a unique opportunity - on the heels of my boyfriend saying: "The future is an untold story that we are not meant to understand." While I didn't have money budgeted for the conference, I sent in my payment and registration that same day anyhow, deciding that the money will somehow work out. The conference is called:
"The Power of Storytelling to Build Healthier Bodies and Communities"
This theme is right in line with the curriculum work that I have done over the past few years, for I have felt that yoga and storytelling are creative vehicles for more effectively teaching language. It also brings in my personal themes that I have been exploring through dreamwork and creative writing. The conference is described as one for educators, parents, healing professionals, community leaders and artists, and the keynote speaker Nancy Mellon has written a book called "Body Eloquence: The Power of Myth and Story to Awaken the Body's Energies". One chooses 3 out of 18 fantastic workshops. I am beyond excited, for something in me knows that this is what I need for the next step.

During this time of hibernation I have been going to Alanon. At the most recent meeting I attended I realized just how good it felt to be in a group of people who didn't get mad at me for talking about the elephant in the room. The yoga alchemy class (which always goes over an extra 45 minutes) I have been attending has also been healing. The other day I went with the attitude that it was enough that I showed up and I shouldn't have to do anything I didn't feel like doing. When handstands were mentioned, I groaned inwardly. I've done them, but I don't enjoy them. Instead we did headstands, and I again thought to myself with the stubbornness of a little girl: "No, I don't have to do this if I don't want to!" I decided to go through the motions and pretend that I was making an effort. And seemingly with little effort, I was suddenly doing a headstand without assistance, and it felt good! And then an unexpected gift came in the form of the Wii that my son received for Christmas. At my brother's house I saw how active the Wii can encourage you to be, so I decided to get the Wii Fit and have been hula hooping almost every day since. I didn't realize that the Wii Fit comes with a personal trainer: my 9 year old who is quite an encouraging little force.

If there is one resolution I have for the new year, it is the typical one of eating better and working out more. But I've decided that there must be more room for PLAY this year... So with that in mind, my son and I will be taking some cross country skiing classes together. I will also be taking a Chinese language class, and he will be starting accordion lessons...

solstice thoughts

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show. Andrew Wyeth

This weekend I went on two solstice walks. The first was with my son after we had been to our fencing class (which I am learning to love, now that I see how my yoga and Tai Chi are helping me), and we found one of our favorite lake parks deserted, with an utter made-to-order silence about it. It seemed as though everything was quite dead, until my son pointed out the cracks in the river ice, where the water could be seen and heard babbling. I was reminded that this is the season of quiet contemplation, where the dead things we no longer need fall away, if only we can let them go. It is a time when space is made for new beginnings. As we made our way to the beach, we found the waves roaring and crashing. Underneath all that seems dead, life continues to pulse.

That night we went for a candlelight solstice walk at the Urban Ecology Center: my mother, my son, my boyfriend and a couple of friends. It was icy and a bit dangerous as we walked about in the dark, and somehow it felt like we each had our own journey in the snow dotted with pricks of candlelight under a dark sky, and yet we were also together in this journey. My mother told me later that she has felt depressed about the family things that are now starting to get better, but the candlelight walk when my son held her hand - and my words held her hand - was greatly encouraging to her.

Lately I've been thinking about how much I've learned these past few years, how I've filled my toolbox with coping skills. And yet I recently reached a point where things in my family felt so out of control, that I felt forced to my knees. It has taken me until now to feel grateful for all that has happened the past few months that has allowed me to come to a place of letting go and letting grace in. I wouldn't have been able to see the beauty of what is now happening to heal us.

I have been the daughter of an alcoholic, who died of the disease, all of my life. Now I am learning about recovery by supporting my son's father while not contributing to the problem yet loving him imperfectly, but deeply. I've learned to take care of myself, and yet making use of those tools is a daily endeavor. I know that when I take care of myself, I am better equipped to support my loved ones.

After a day that included a knitting class where I met a really neat Native-American storyteller, and then handwork group at my friend's Buddha-filled and artfully decorated home which was a delight for the senses, I went to Alanon. I'm grateful to have returned to this support system, where others understand just how hard it is to let go and allow for grace to work. I haven't been drinking lately, not because I have trouble controlling my drinking, but because alcohol hasn't been a great friend to my life. Experiencing certain social situations without alcohol allows me to see things without dulled senses. It's interesting to see which friends seem uncomfortable if I don't feel like drinking, as though it somehow has something to do with them.

Last night at Alanon we talked about step 3, which is about relinquishing control and letting God as we understand Him/Her work. I've been anxious the past few weeks, especially as the holidays make their not-so-stealthy approach. I'm grateful for all the reminders in my life to let go and make room for joyful play. Just because people seem to think I can "do it all" at work and home doesn't mean that this is a healthy balance to maintain. My mother was frustrated at handwork group because she hasn't been able to start and see a project through. She has so much handworking experience that she has felt she should be doing more difficult projects. Instead we urged her to do a simple project, such as the felted purse that I was working on, one that she can then embellish with her own creative touches.

As I finished my purse that same night, I thought about how you can only do one stitch at a time. Keeping it simple while I knit allows me to knit a new way of thinking, while also relaxing me and calming my monkey mind. Knitting one stitch at a time is a lesson in grace, one that allows for imperfect stitches. All I have is this moment, this day, to embrace serenity.

Bones
In the winter
things are reduced
to essentials. We see
the cones of the land, the bones
of the trees, the stark elegance
of the underlying structure
of life. And we see the frailty
of our own soft flesh, the brittle,
yet lasting structure
of our own bones -
our bid for eternity.
Jessica Macbeth

unraveling

The day I mentioned unraveling, I found a passage from a Pema Chodron piece called "Vast Blue Sky", from an interview with Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche:

He said "...You have to understand that even though you make a lot
of mistakes and you mess up in all kinds of ways, all of that is
impermanent and shifting and changing and temporary. But
fundamentally, your mind and heart are not guilty. They are innocent."

So guiltlessness is very important in the subject of dissolving or
burning up the seeds of aggression in our own hearts and our own
minds.

Most of the striking out at other people, for us in this culture,
comes from feeling bad about ourselves. It makes us so wretched and so
uncomfortable that it sets off the chain reaction of trying to get
away from that feeling. It's some very very habitual thing that
happens.

...But somehow, if at that moment, you were to pause, and start breathing
and let the whole thing unwind and unravel, and hang out in the
impermanent yet ineffable space - if you were to do that you might
realize that all of this blaming of other people, when you went into
it deeper, you would see that the seed of it was really some deep
discomfort and aggression about yourself.

And if you went more deeply into that, you would probably find sadness.

And I quote this so much, this Poem of Rick Fields, where he said:

Behind the hardness there is fear
And if you touch the heart of the fear
You find sadness (it sort of gets more and more tender)
And if you touch the sadness
You find the vast blue sky

I always feel that somehow you have to reframe that bad feeling - so
that you see it as a doorway to liberation, as an opening to the vast
blue sky.

A teaching by Pema Chödrön
excerpted from a talk entitled "Practicing Peace in Times of War"
published by Shambhala Publications

I've been trying to apply this teaching to my life as I work through painful family stuff. I know that it's not fair to be blamed for a communication problem for it takes two to tango. I know that it's not fair to be labeled passive aggressive by someone who is also passive aggressive. Ironically, playing the victim and blaming another person for an entire situation is - passive aggressive.

But it really does no good to try to get another person to see what they bring to a given situation. You can only sit with and deal with your part by making the choice of growth.

Just when I was feeling most wretched about all of this, I received an email from a friend called "Forgiveness and Reuniting". My friend wanted to let me know that I had inspired her to think differently about a hurtful situation she was in, and she was able to find healing and forgiveness and make her way to a better situation with those people. I was so grateful for the gift of her sharing. She added that when she starts to be overwhelmed by negative thoughts, she hits a pause button and puts on a favorite song and pictures a special place, while visualizing the situation in a positive way.

So I've started to play the song "Imagine" by John Lennon in my head whenever I feel hurt and helpless. This was my father's favorite song. I then picture myself in one of the places I have traveled to with my son: twilight on a beach in Costa Rica, the harbor in Barcelona, getting to the other side of the Golden Bridge.
And I'm starting to put the people I feel hurt by into bubbles of healing, rather like snow globes, letting them go. There is something about falling snow that brings me to a place of peaceful silence. Driving in a blizzard is scary due to the lack of visibility and the possibility of icy patches. And yet the snow continues to fall softly and silently, always beautifully, no matter what we do.

Another song that was a gift today: The Melismatics' "Digging Deep".

target practice

Yesterday I received a Daily Om reading about not being a target. I found this so helpful because of a family situation that has left me baffled and deeply hurt.

From the Daily Om:

Hurtful confrontations often leave us feeling drained and confused. When someone attacks us emotionally, we may wonder what we did to rouse their anger, and we take their actions personally. We may ask ourselves what we could have done to compel them to behave or speak that way toward us. It’s important to remember that there are no real targets in an emotional attack and that it is usually a way for the attacker to redirect their uncomfortable feelings away from themselves. When people are overcome by strong emotions, like hurt or anguish, they may see themselves as victims and lash out at others as a means of protection or to make themselves feel better. You may be able to shield yourself from an emotional attack by not taking the behavior personally. First, however, it is good to cultivate a state of detachment that can provide you with some protection from the person who is attacking you. This will allow you to feel compassion for this person and remember that their behavior isn’t as much about you as it is about their need to vent their emotions.

As a recovering people pleaser I find it hard to recognize when someone is attacking me because of something that has to do with them and not me. My first impulse is to try and adjust my behavior so that the other person won't be upset. But this does not and should not work. Being compassionate does not mean allowing others to use you for target practice.

I went to a very challenging Anusara class last night, and the teacher talked about how our bodies take shape based on habitual postures. She suggested that making intentions could be viewed in this way, and she urged us to feel our intentions as we moved our bodies into the poses. Just that morning I'd decided to do my sun salutation while thinking of different friends with each one. It was interesting to note that the postures felt different as I thought of that particular person. So last night my intention was to be gentle to myself, and I felt my body expand to make room for some much-needed gentleness. The family situation I've been in has kept me up nights lately, and it is time to completely let it go and stop assuming it's all my fault. It's time to stop letting people use me for target practice just because I'm supposedly a stronger person.

I had to unravel a knitting project several times. I couldn't see my own stitches because I'd started with black wool. My needles were too short, so everything was getting all scrunched and bunched up. Of course I can't resist the metaphor. The old patterns aren't serving me well, and it's time for some new tools. A friend suggested tying a knot and hanging on. I love that, but I've also learned how to weave in the loose ends and knots.

birth celebrations

As I've already mentioned, I try to celebrate my whole birth month rather than focusing on just one day. This started due to numerous bad memories but has become about something deeper, for I now take the time to ponder the past year of lessons, hardships and blessings. This is a time for setting intentions for the next year of life.

The older I get, the less I care about what others think. The more I do what I want. The more I enjoy my life. The more I appreciate others. The less time I waste. The less time I spend on wondering what if. I act more than I think. Sometimes.

I went to New York City for the first time this month. I've been to many world cities but have somehow neglected this major city. I've been to the JFK of course, but I'd never been in the city itself. The timing was right because a friend of mine who is an artist living with her boyfriend in Brooklyn had invited me, and my friend from Berlin was doing a 3 month internship. I decided not to take my son so I could have more adult time with my friends, but I missed him terribly. I saw so many things that I couldn't wait to tell him and his father.

The first day was about delays. My boyfriend came to pick me up and somehow understood how much I enjoyed being seen off at the airport by him. He sent me a few text messages reminding me to enjoy my pre-birthday celebrations. I used the three hour delay in Milwaukee airport to finish my British murder mystery and the latest Oprah. I got into Laguardia around 8, when I was picked up by Jason and driven to Brooklyn, where we had Peruvian chicken before heading out for a beer at a bar called Matchless, which of course made me think of match.com. I noticed in passing that Brooklyn hipsters aren't especially different from Milwaukee hipsters.

The next day we went to the farmer's market in Union Square. While it was quite nice, it wasn't nearly as big as the one in Madison. I had to resist buying some sheep's wool in funky colors, for I have plenty of wool and supplies already! We spent the afternoon in Soho art galleries before having British fish and chips at a colorful little place called Salt and Battery. It was raining lightly when we headed into Central Park, and I enjoyed the fall colors against the rain-washed city backdrop. That's when it really started to rain hard, and by the time we made it to the Met where you can "pay what you can", we were soaked. I was grateful for the chance to sit in a Japanse-style garden to dry out in the museum. Unfortunately, many others had the same idea. That night we went for French food but encountered such a waiting list that we headed to an Australian bar called the Wombat. We then ended up at a Mexican restaurant where I asked for a margarita the size of my head and elicited quite a chuckle from the waiter. I got an ordinary-sized tamarind margarita which tasted extraordinary. My friends ordered something called "chile y nogolo" which was brilliant. That was certainly a lesson in adventurous ordering!

On Sunday after going to the neighborhood organic deli bodega for coffee, a concept I hadn't seen before, we went to Chinatown for soup noodles. These are essentially dumplings filled with soup that you poke a hole into so as to let the steam out before placing the whole thing in your mouth, where it then explodes with hot flavor. From there we headed to a Chinese store called Pearl Harbor, a former bike messenger store called Yellow Rat Bastard (where I found a small adult NY grey sweatshirt with a cool punk label on the inside plus unique stitching for Gustav - which was the surprising favorite gift), and the Housing Works bookstore (the proceeds go to victims of AIDS). Later we would have bubble tea at the St. Alp's tea house in St. Mark's, which is apparently where the New York punk scene started, plus hit the Strand bookstore (where I was spotted by a Milwaukee acquaintance whom I later ran into at a Dinosaur Jr. show once I got back home) and the Forbidden Planet comic bookstore. That night my friend tried to teach me a cooking lesson in preparing brussel sprouts - one that I'd requested. Alas, I was on sensory overload and would have happily collapsed into the couch instead. That, and I have a fear of big kitchen knives. All the foodies I know seem to wield big kitchen knives in the kitchen!

On Monday I spent 10 hours by myself learning my own way around. I have always felt that the best way to get a new city is on foot and by getting lost. After my friend pointed out a good bagel place, I had my first New York City bagel - with lox. I can see why they are so good - chewy on the inside and crispy on the outside.

And then I went museum hopping, which means that I was in heaven for much of the day: Solomon R. Guggenheim (Kandinsky); Smithsonian/Cooper-Hewitt Design Museum (Design for a Living World); and the Rubin Museum of Art (Jung's "Red Book" and Art of the Himalayas). When I was in grad school, my focus was on the Expressionist movement, so I fell in love with Kandinsky all over again, especially a piece called Moscow. I almost didn't look into the Cooper-Hewitt, which someone from Milwaukee had recommended to me. Ten leading designers were asked to develop new uses for sustainably grown and harvested materials in order to tell a unique story about the life-cycle of materials and the power of conservation and design. The featured designers and places include Yves Behar/Costa Rica; Stephen Burks/Australia; Hella Jongerius/Mexico; Maya Lin/Maine; Christien Meindertsma/Idaho; Isaac Mizrahi/Alaska; Abbott Miller/Bolivia; Ted Muehling/Micronesia; Kate Spade/Bolivia; and Ezri Tarazi/China. The photo essay which accompanied the exhibit was especially powerful. The Cooper-Hewitt museum shop is truly great fun, featuring wax crayons from Germany, masking tape from Japan, unusual gadgets and gizmos, wacky fashion pieces. I had squash soup and a turkey chutney sandwich in the cafe where I could look out the window onto the courtyard.

My friend took a break from work and got me onto a bus that took me to where I could walk to Times Square/Broadway. I found Junior's cheesecake shop and decided the raspberry swirl cheesecake would be my (first) birthday cake. An exceptionally large pigeon decided to join me. On the table. With an eye on my cheesecake. It was the most intense stare down that I think I've ever participated in. All the more intense because of course pigeons don't blink. From Broadway I walked 30-plus blocks to the Rubin Museum. I was fascinated by the beginnings of Jung's cosmology - his drawings and calligraphy were certainly unique. Apparently they were the result of a "creative illness" or "encounter with the unconscious". The family sought to suppress the publication of the book. I've always been drawn to mandalas and have decided to learn more when I have the opportunity. And since I am keeping my own dream book, his was certainly inspiring, although I am not quite sure how. I enjoyed the Himalayan art as well, especially the informative overview that accompanied the pieces.

I decided to use the map to find my way to St Mark's, where I was to meet the others for soba noodles. I was a bit over-confident though and kept getting lost, while finding places I'd been to over the weekend! A crazy person stopped to ask if I needed directions. I suppose I shouldn't call him crazy, but he did start talking about the 20's and 30's and Katharine Hepburn. I thanked him for his help and hastily made my way towards the East Village, as I'd been wandering around the West Village without knowing it. I was an hour early and decided to wander 9th street, which is where I found the Ukrainian restaurant Veselka and had a cheese blintz appetizer...delicioso! But dinner was truly amazing: Saki with monkfish liver pate and devil's tongue starch with ponzu sauce for starters. Curry chicken with green onion soba noodles. I am running out of adjectives for how delicious this was! We then decided to each order a different dessert despite having already eaten more than enough, thus inviting yet another feast for the senses!

That was the night of the Jesus Lizard show. I didn't know much about the band, other than that they were Kurt Cobain's favorite band and this was their reunion tour. The funniest thing was that after I ordered my ticket for the New York concert online and started planning my trip, their Milwaukee concert to be held at the venue where I work was announced, so I will be seeing them again next week!

As I was standing towards the rather packed front, waiting for the band to go on, I started to ask myself what I was doing so close to the front. I am a bit claustrophobic and was really starting to feel hemmed in at this point. Within moments of the show starting, the lead singer had thrown himself into the crowd. After his shin was in my face, I had to ask myself what on earth I was doing. I have been in mosh pits and have nothing to prove. And that's when I thought to myself: I am a Mom! I need to get myself to the back! But my worst idea was turning around and heading into the guys who were pushing forward. I enjoyed the concert from the back immensely, feeling no shame for my abrupt exit from the pit. Part of my personal fabric are the patterns of the punk scene. I'd rather be around guys who are a bit rough around the edges and yet truly sweet on the inside...instead of hipster guys who focus more on the outside. A generalization to be sure... And while I don't go out very much, there is something about loud music that serves as a good outlet for stress!

The evening ended with us cramming into a subway and making a mad dash into a bar to go to a bathroom. I am amazed at the lack of clean bathrooms in NY, being used to the plentiful and clean bathrooms in the Midwest. We made good use of the bar's photo booth, and on the walk home, we had the good fortune to hit the Korean market where I scored "Kinder surprise eggs" for Gustav!

I learned many things this past weekend in New York. There is a time for excitement and a hectic pace, and a time for quiet solitude. The older I get, the more I learn about going with the flow. Being open to adventure. Living my truth. Trusting my inner compass. Appreciating the differences in my friends. Opening my mind and heart to unexpected teachers. Discovering the colors against my own rain-washed backdrop. Paying attention to the symbols and that which fuels my creativity. I am the designer of my own sustainably grown life, harvesting and recycling materials for creative play.