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Showing posts from March, 2012

Bein' yo bad self

"There is nothing more beautiful than seeing a person being themselves. Imagine going through your day being unapologetically you ." - Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free (This quote appeared in an article on Mind, Body, Green, a site I visit frequently. I am smack within their demographic, so I constantly find stuff that resonates. This quote is one more example of that...) Those of you who have followed my blog for any period of time have witnessed a personal evolution, of sorts, as I've shared the empty nest process as it's unfolded for me. You've seen the low points, the high points, the breakthroughs and the gradually emerging post-flight woman I'm becoming. Amid myriad realizations, a common thread of self-awareness has grown, and with it has come a better understanding of who I am now. Ironically, with that, has come a clearer understanding of who I have been, and some ideas about why that younger me made some of the choices she made,

As cheesy as a good round of Swiss, that's me

I love music that makes me nostalgic. Most music does that, which is part of its magic, yes? Today I'm awash in a veritable sea of nostalgia, courtesy of Allison Krauss (Nothing At All, Down to the River to Pray, Go to Sleep Little Baby), EmmyLou Harris (Pancho and Lefty, Tulsa Queen, Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend, Two More Bottles of Wine), and Willie Nelson with Johnny Cash (The Highwayman, Ghost Riders in the Sky), and EmmyLou Harris with Mark Knopfler (Why Worry?, Romeo and Juliet..and more). My Dad was also cheesy. We actually owned a Marty Robbins album, and the theme track to The Magnificent Seven, and Herb Albert & the Tijuana Brass. And Dave Brubeck. And Stan Kenton. And Gordon Lightfoot. Dad and I shared the cheese, and he taught me to love jazz and classical and folk and music in general. Fleetwood Mac could make him stop and just smile, regardless what he was into at that point, building a gorgeous piece of furniture or grooming his garden or reading a

The art of the breath

Have you ever had a moment when you leave your body, look down and ask, 'Who the hell are YOU and what have you done with my more pleasant, focused, calm and friendly self?' Me either, very often, anyway. But lately that's happened a couple of times. And I do not like that person I'm looking down on and querying, no sirree. That person is tight, stressed, serious, and has lost her sense of humor. That person needs to find some lightness, to calm the hell down and refocus. On the important stuff. That person is learning to work on overload and manage the pressure and keep all the balls in the air at all times.  Well, most times. She's learning that she can gently rest a ball or two while she focuses on the highest priority events in her life, but she's stubborn and a little slow. Fortunately her friends and family are understanding and supportive, and most days she's able to mend any fences she's accidentally backed into during frenetic activity.

7,7

In Chinese Medicine,  females are considered to age in 7 year cycles. So at 7,1, their teeth are in, their hair is thick, they're beginning school. At 7,2, they begin to express reproductive capabilities, menstruation starts, and so on. I am on the brink of 7,7. I love it, because it's a square. I kind of hate it because it's so very much closer to the big 5-0 that I'm practically there , and that distresses me just a bit. Things that happen at 7,7 if you're Chinese: Your hair begins to gray. Your menstrual cycles may begin to falter, then cease entirely. Your skin begins to appear older. You, essentially, begin to show signs of age. So the hair part? Yep. I'm beginning to be shot with silver in my nearly black locks. But weirdly enough it's not bothering me enough to color it anymore. So I'm either maturing, very comfortable with who and where I am, or I'm fucking busy and just don't want to deal with it. I'm really not sur

There is no such thing as time

Wormholes, sure. But time, time is a uniquely human construct designed to pacify humans and give us a concrete concept to hold onto in this sea of continuity that is the universe. This, among other declarations, was made during a rare and welcome conversation with an old, dear friend of mine who has, unexpectedly and repeatedly during our friendship, stepped up and simply listened when I had something to share. Sometimes these sharings have been serious, sometimes dire, sometimes silly, sometimes they've been about simply having lunch OUT. But this time, this was a doozie. The last fortnight has revealed some most unpleasant realities, including but certainly not limited to my learning that our dear family dentist of 30+ years has progressive lung disease and must retire to better care for himself and be on oxygen more of the time. I've also learned that my ex is suffering from the same condition-COPD. Yes, they both smoked for many years in spite of being intelligent