さくら always reminds me of お花見。
Thank you Lifehacker, for helping to make meditation mainstream.
As I have said, and Depack Chopra has said, and Andrew Weil has said, and now Lifehacker says: You need nothing in order to start meditating. That’s right, nothing. No yoga mat, no candles, no special clothes. You don’t need a special room, or time or day, or reason, or scroll to look at, or guru, or…well, you get the idea.
Those are all distrations (aren’t they?).
Where it gets tricky is when you try to meditate and you fail so hard. I think that’s where the meditation supply industry comes nibbling at our wallets. Maybe if I just had this Tibetan gong, then I’d meditate. Maybe if I had the right music…the right color in my living room…the right clothes, the right incense…the right life.
Ah, yes. There you are, breathing in, watching your breath, breathing out, watching your br—*screetch* crappy life — Yikes — is that **really** what my life looks like? Back to the breath…etc…for about 30 seconds before you either fidget so much you’re in the next room or you fall asleep.
Right?
In my humble opinion, you should start where you are, and do what you can.
Practice daydreaming…there’s something, I think, in our culture, that puts daydreaming in a special place, a little to the left of meditation. It feels maybe a little like going barefoot, or making mud pies, or skipping school on a warm spring day. It feels good.
It’s a great start.
To me, eggs symbolize the hope inherent in motherhood
In the fall of 2006, I briefly lost my mind. I began homeschooling my 4 boys, entered a Master’s program in mental health counseling, and folded my magazine, Porch. Porch had begun as a dream of mine, and had turned into a nightmare, consuming our family’s savings. We were struggling. The combined stress of tight finances mixed with more than a little guilt that I had somehow caused it by selfishly pursuing a dream was enough. But starting to homeschool and begin a Master’s degree at the same time? I entered therapy.
I only needed a couple of months, being heard by a therapist, reminding myself of my strengths and learning some stress reduction techniques.
What I also took away from that brief but super low period was the importance of easy and free (or cheap) access to mental health counseling.
Nancia Leath has become a mentor for me as I pursue my degree in mental health counseling. She’s far away geographically, but her way of being with clients is super close to my heart. This essay, Teardrops of a Mother, by Nancia Leath, captures the essence of what is possible through good mental health counseling.
In my case, I had tons of support, internal strengths and, really, a life skill set that meant that my low period would be brief and I would persevere. Things would (and did) get better.
For other mothers, though, there isn’t nearly enough support, and, in fact, quite a few hurdles as they try to raise their children.
Soon, I will begin my field experience to finish my degree and get ready to become a mental health counselor. If I am able to help mothers find their way the time spent will be justified.
Essential Oils for Health and Beauty
About two years ago, I made a website about essential oils. After a year up, though, I felt like there were just too many things not-quite-right with it and I realized that I didn’t have the time to figure out exactly what they were & fix them.
I’m putting it up again, with a slightly different focus and a very different look. I genuinely love essential oils, but I’m no afficianado, just a simple housewife who loves flowers.
After spending a zillion hours listening in on forums and Yahoo lists (I guess you could call it lurking, since I never felt confident enough to really comment much) I think I know that I am an outsider looking in.
The industry (IMHO) is full of controversy and angst and a host of very likable and knowledgeable characters.
There are “good guys” and “bad guys” for sure. In my opinion, though, there’s a lot of middle ground. People who may just differ in their opinion on what is important in the industry.
I’m excited about putting up what I know and staying more current with what is happening in the industry.
I’ve got the main page up and am starting in on putting the rest back up, piece by piece, oil by oil.
Just in time for spring!
What: Monthly Group Blog Posts
Why: Because of Andes Cruz & Her Indomitable Spirit
Who:
- Andes Cruz
- Stephanie Nocito Clark
- Shaun Young:
- Brad Severtson:
- Beth Cyr:
- Kathleen Krucoff:
- Andrea Bell:
This month’s topic being a favorite book or movie.
Marshall: They just pay me to drive the limo, sir. I’m not here to tell you who I am.
Joe Banks: I didn’t ask you to tell me who you are.
Marshall: You were hinting around about books, childhood memories and food. That happens to be a very important topic to me, sir. Books, Mr…
Joe Banks: Banks.
Marshall: Banks. Books (and food) make the man. I believe that. You say to me you want me to write a blog post, you want it to be about books, but you don’t know what kind. You leave that hanging in the air, like I’m going to fill in the blank, that to me is like asking me who I am, and I don’t know who I am, I don’t want to know. It’s taken me my whole life to try to find out who I am, and I’m tired now, you hear what I’m saying? Paraphrased from the Internet Movie Database (IMDB).
It’s funny how certain subjects hit me. Ask me my favorite food, I shoot back with lemon squares, which decidedly may not be my favorite food, but were what I felt like eating that moment. My favorite childhood memory caused a bit of angst. My first overly dramatic thought was: “There were none” Which transported me into a brief funk as I came through the other end to “They were all good” and then settled on what I wrote.
But my favorite book? I. do. not. know. Part of me wants to say “The book I have not written yet” Another part wants to list the book I am reading right now: Writing the Second ACT: Building Conflict and Tension in Your Film Script
but though I like it, and though it may help me write the book I have not written yet, it is really not my favorite.
And why does it matter, anyway? I think, perhaps, because to me, “books make the man” They define who you are. I don’t know who I am (yet) and I am tired (right now).
But maybe I can share my favorite movie with you : ).
What: Monthly Group Blog Posts
Why: Because of Andes Cruz & Her Indomitable Spirit
Who:
- Andes Cruz
- Stephanie Nocito Clark
- Natsuko Hanks:
- Shaun Young:
- Brad Severtson:
- Beth Cyr:
- Kathleen Krucoff:
- Andrea Bell:
- Pal Gooz:
- Laura Flavin:
This month’s topic being a favorite child memory.
So here I am, right after my bath, right after my first full day downhill skiing since, oh, I don’t know, 1989 maybe? (and it was retro day at Whitewater, too!)
In my hands, I am holding my baby picture. I am smiling in both pictures.
I was, in the early 1970s, what they now call a “spirited child” (i.e., Raising Your Spirited Child) Walked at 6 months, first stitches at 14 months (from running down the beach smack into the lifeguard’s stand). In my first Easter picture, I have a black eye and am glaring at the camera. This is in wonderful juxtaposition with the adorable basket I am holding at a jaunty angle.
The funny thing is that family lore always goes that my mother didn’t know what to do with a child like me. She’s petite, adorable, and was only 25 when I was born. (cue the smelling salts and a brandy) I love her story about flipping through the baby book (Dr. Spock) and not finding me in there anywhere.
A quick fast forward to me, a young mother, flipping madly through baby books, feeling a slight panic setting in as I realize that my babies aren’t in there anywhere
And then, a quick flashback, first to 1942 as my dear, sweet, petite grandmother flips madly through the baby book, hands in the air, declares she can’t find her baby in there anywhere!”
And, yes, back another few years to 1917, where I imagine her mother in a similar scene.
What could have been my saving grace is that I did not have a daughter. Something, in any case, snapped me out of this multi-generational fog and I began to see a pattern: my mother (as a small girl) was a hell-raiser (adorable, but spunky) She preferred baseball to tea parties, etc. My grandmother’s favorite story is that she would do handsprings all the way from her home to the subway to meet her father after work every day. Absolutely adorable, dimpled face cutely smiling in every picture, but my, oh, my, if you didn’t catch that fire in her eyes you were blind.
My mother’s cousin is interested in family history, and it turns out that Emma, my grandmother’s mother’s mother, “stole” William Hendricks from his first wife to start our line : ) and there is no evidence that she ever married him (legally, that is). (Just to cement the long line of spunk)
My favorite memories of childhood include making mud pies and trying to feed them to the younger siblings, making forts in pecan trees in the vacant lots across the street, riding in a wagon at neck-breaking speeds down hills (a la Calvin and Hobbes, but there were cars involved). I loved wake boarding and diving under huge waves at the last second. I have several sets of stitches in my head.
Since I do not have girl children, I do not know if I would have broken the cycle completely. With each generation, the spirit was beaten down. Dresses were imposed, with white tights and black patent leather mary janes. One of my favorite funny but telling memories is that I, a gymnast, was not allowed to wear shorts under my skirts to school. (I had to wear a skirt). So I always had to make the choice: sit out and watch the other girls do cherry drops on the bars (metal bars with asphalt underneath) or do one, and let my underwear show (I see London, I see France…) Hard choices.
The kind that define you. I ended up mostly sitting out.
As I began to see this pattern, I began to reclaim the fierce (but cute) strength that has been simmering for generations in the female side of my family.
All I can say is, “Watch out” : )
