Walks

The weather's been so inviting of late that I've been out enjoying walks in my neighborhood. I've begun to bring my camera with me on these excursions to capture the little vistas of spring that I see. Here are a few I'd like to share...


The painterly way the clouds hang in the sky captured my attention here. It seems that the greens on the hillside have been waiting for a day just like this!



This reminded me of a poster from a 1950's barbershop featuring the many different types of haircuts from which to choose... (Photoshop your side profile here) "I'd like the apple blossom pompadour with just a little off the back."




I used to listen to music on walks but now I enjoy listening to the sounds of the day. When I'm attuned to the world around me a space opens up inside. I feel the air coming in and out of my lungs and the tension in my shoulders ease. The rhythm of my feet on the ground shakes loose the weight of the day. As I connect to the moment and find the calm it's then that I can see the delights of the world around me. And, oh, are there delights to be seen!

Here's some of the very freshest spring grass against a backdrop of moss.



This little vista is in the crook of a root of a big tree. I love the little bits of stick and leaves that cover this valley floor. Moss is something that always catches my attention: I love the range of greens from dark to bright, the velvety texture and the way it cascades over the rolling hills of the roots.


Wishing you the delights the day,
Karen

Live Each Season

Live each season as it passes;
Breathe the air,
Drink the drink,
Taste the fruit,
And resign yourself to the influences of each.
~ Henry David Thoreau

Spring has arrived a little early this year. The long silence of winter has been replaced by the lilting sound of bird songs. The new, fresh smell that comes with warmer weather- and by warm I mean a startling seventy degrees- is in the air. The other day we had our first good rain and early-rising plants are now lifting their heads up above the blanket of the earth’s bed. Trees and bushes have heard that same alarm clock and are getting their little buds ready for the new school year.

This season is a profusion of new beginnings. Many of my friends have commented on the promise they feel at the start of this new decade of opportunity. One who had been diligently searching for work recently found a position she both needed and wanted (hooray!). Another with her finger on the pulse of job postings is seeing more positions being advertised. Taking a cue from tulips, the world feels like it's beginning to open up a little.

Work in my corner of the world continues to be like a good reduction sauce: it’s concentrated and we’re savoring every bite. Relationships with long-standing clients are in flux and new projects are a gift. I have had meetings where things clicked, the connection was there but then something later changed- lord only knows what or why- and the work went elsewhere. When that happens I tend then to think over the meeting (and over and over) to find the reason for the change… did I say something wrong, did I not pick up on cues? They're my clients so why aren't they staying with me? These ruminating sessions take a great deal of energy and, in the end, don’t offer real benefit.

The economy in these last couple years has offered numerous and repeated opportunities to learn to let go and trust that the right thing is happening. But oh, can that be a challenge! I often don’t see how the right thing is happening but the point is not how I see things- as startling as that is to think- the point is that it is what is happening. Like it or lump it, it is what’s happening. I can sit and stew in fear and doubt or choose to accept the situation and release myself from the anxiety.

The letting go part can be a challenge for me sometimes (um, like now) and I guess the trusting part, too. I’m doing my best to shake off the fear and focus on the positive. At times my trust wanes to the littlest sliver of a moon: I want proof that there will be another full moon and but soon. The darkness feels too dark, I can’t see the other side and that fills me with doubt. I believe OSHA would back me up here in that a good hand rail and appropriate lighting would feel a whole lot safer. I want proof that everything’s going to work out like I’d like!

But proof can be elusive. The early rising plants of spring don’t have proof; they use their instinct and cue off the warmth of the sun. Arriving so early on the scene has its risks. Sometimes there's a missed cue and another cold snap brings the curtain down early in Act One but plants don't let that deter them. They take it from the top and run the scene again.

Early sailors didn't have proof. They had to trust in the sea-worthiness of their vessel (and believe me OSHA was nowhere to be found on those cruising ships). In the dark nights of their journey they checked their course against the stars, remained true to their plan and continued to move forward. The risk was high: they could run out of fresh water or food or be taken down to a watery grave by a giant wave and/or sea monster. But they didn’t let that stop them because the reward was greater than the risk. (I mean, some of them probably changed their minds when they heard about the sea monsters but numerous others went on undeterred.)

I am like an early (ooh, I’m not going to say riser because we all know even with an alarm clock that’s not true) but I am an early explorer in my own life. I’m equipped with skills, instincts and knowledge and do my best to use them each day. There is risk, yes, but I am setting out on my journey trusting that everything I need will be there for me when I need it. If that mantra was enough to carry me through cancer treatment it should be enough for regular life, shouldn’t it?

The fear of loosing something (something I believe to be mine and irreplaceable) can keep me frozen and immobile. By dropping anchor and claiming things as mine--- like the belief that my clients are mine or that my red hair made me unique and that without it I would not be me (chemotherapy cleared up that misconception)--- I am ignoring the powerful tides of life.

Life ebbs and flows, it has ups and downs. By loosening my grip on things I open myself up to new experiences and find myself alive in this season. I am present. And really, that's all there is: this present moment, this breath, this life. Right now.

So I breathe in this spring air. As I breathe it in deeply, deeply, deeply I feel the grip of fear loosen inside me. I drink the cool, clear drink of this season and find my thirst is quenched. I taste the fruit of this season and savor the delicious flavors that will only be here for the briefest of moments. This season offers a plethora of opportunities and I've resigned myself to each of them: the hope, the new, the green, and the change. I'm going to keep my heart open and trust that I'll be in a warm, sunny spot where I can continue to bloom.

Trusting the sunshine will be there for you too,
Karen

High Anxiety

Last year I took a T’ai Chi class that was really amazing. Each week I had an hour set aside for moving meditation. No matter how anxious or frenetic I felt going in to class, I left feeling calm and centered. Some days that feeling came early in the class and other days it would take the better part of the hour to achieve. Either way, I would reconnect with that quiet that resides within me. At the end of the summer the instructor moved to a state where blowing sand trumps blowing snow and left a void that I didn’t get around to filling.

At first, the absence of weekly practice wasn’t pronounced. I could tell I was missing the regular structure of movement and meditation but wasn’t doing it on my own at home. There was plenty of busyness to keep me running and the rising anxiety was familiar to me. I had lived with it before; I could live with it again.

But now after not quieting down for lo, these many months, I feel like there’s a caged animal inside me pacing back and forth and back and forth. I’ve tried to avoid it--- to ignore it--- but it won’t quiet on its own. Much as I’d rather not claim it, anxiousness is a part of me. It is a part of me. Oddly enough, it is when I accept it- accepted the pacing, the roaring and gnashing of teeth- that I find that I can work with it.

What goes on outside of me is not nearly as powerful as what goes on inside of me. There are days when exterior life is smooth sailing but inside me there’s a hurricane brewing so the smallest perceived ripple capsizes my boat. Other days where the world seems stormy, I'm able to ride out the squalls by relaxing into the waves. Keeping calm and being grounded is what makes the ups and downs of life manageable.

It’s up to me (really, does it have to be?!) to make sure that my inner energy is calm and focused. Doing things for me because they’re what I need isn’t quite yet my default setting. On my own tend not to be as focused as I’d like to be. There are often more appealing things like watching the Olympics, checking friends’ facebook updates or organizing my sock drawer that keep me occupied.

I find I do best with outside deadlines and commitments to others. Being at a class with other people is more energizing than stumbling through the movements on my own. Indeed it’s one of the things our T’ai Chi instructor pointed out to us: when we moved together in a synchronized manner the energy was palpable and focused.

This past month a new instructor has come forward to lead our class of novices so I’m back on track with T'ai Chi practice. Though our new teacher's style is very different than what we learned before it’s wonderful to have a guide reminding us to be gentle with ourselves (we’re all students in this life) and to look at the world with soft eyes (seeing in all directions but focusing on none of them). So, in doing just that, I'm reconnecting to the calm within.

Peace to you,
Karen

Valentine's Day

Mister Roger’s Neighborhood is a show I love. His kind and gentle demeanor (which unfortunately rubs some the wrong way) along with the music that’s ever-present in the program have always been appealing to me. One of the songs that I think really says what today is all about is “There Are Many Ways to Say I Love You”. When I was younger I didn’t quite understand how cleaning a room could say I love you but indeed it does...

There Are Many Ways to Say I Love You
By Fred M. Rogers
© 1970

There are many ways to say I love you.
There are many ways to say I care about you.
Many ways, many ways,
Many ways to say I love you.

There's the singing way to say I love you.
There's the singing something someone really likes to hear.
The singing way, the singing way,
The singing way to say I love you.

Cleaning up a room can say I love you.
Hanging up a coat before you're asked to.
Drawing special pictures for the holidays
And making plays.

You'll find many ways to say I love you.
You'll find many ways to understand what love is.
Many ways, many ways,
Many ways to say I love you.

Singing, cleaning, drawing, being understanding,
Love you.


So on this day, the one day of the year set aside specifically to celebrate love, I hope you’re spending time with people dear to you and, for those good people who live far away, that they are especially in your thoughts.

Here’s to a lifetime of love in all its many ways,
Karen

Back Again

The New Year is here! And it’s not only a new year, it’s a new decade. That’s reason enough to begin by cleaning out the cobwebs and getting a fresh start on things--- best foot forward and all that! I’ve set out some intentions for the year which include the usual line up of better eating, exercise, and doing the dishes before it becomes an official Olympic event. These few days into the year I’m one for three. It’s a start. As a dear friend says, “Good things are going to happen!” and I believe that to be true.

One of the delights about a new year is a new calendar. They’re all about art and design and, ooh, do I love good graphic design. The combination of words and images on a page, the use of font and layout to best present the idea, these things make my heart sing a glad song for graphic design! So it is with much pleasure that I peruse the plethora of paper offerings each year.

The search for new calendars starts in late September which sounds early but it does take some time to find them. For each type of calendar - the weekly calendar for me and for work, the desk calendar for both home and work, and an additional monthly one for home – there are particular requirements, the most important of which is that rare combination of function and aesthetics. For the upcoming journey I’ve some delightful art to accompany me. For my desk at work there’s the little letter pressed calendar; for my desk at home it’s a beautiful silk-screen with wonderful graphics of my sister’s sports team. And then there’s the one featuring British rail travel posters that reminds me of my friends in London. So much art; so much beauty! What better way to mark the months of the year?!

The one calendar I buy that’s neither artful nor beautiful is the Franklin Covey weekly work calendar. (I know, I know. It’s like a cult.) My first job to require such a detailed calendar was with a company that drank that particular Kool-Aid. Without delay after being hired, lest I figure out how to organize my own thoughts, I was sent to class to learn the intricacies of how to use The Program. The class was called something dramatic like MasterPlan Goal-Focused Life Management. I don’t remember much about the doctrine except that there’s a language of arrows and check marks that help track of what goals are accomplished (checks) and what still needs doing (arrows). Though I don’t make full use of The System I’ve just stayed with it. I mean, I’ve already got the binder; I just need the new calendar pages…

Just as I’ve stayed with Franklin Covey there’s something that’s staying with me (no matter how often I think I'm rid of it) and that’s the single, wiry hair on my back. Yes, that’s right; I have back hair. Welcome to my world! Technically, it’s more of a shoulder hair but really that’s no more appealing than referring to it as a back hair. What ever name is bestowed upon it, it has returned with the New Year. On a body covered with thin, nearly invisible hairs (at least that’s what I tell myself in the summer when I haven’t shaved my legs…) this hair is thick and dark. Because of its ability to appear overnight and to immediately be about a half inch long I’m constantly on the look out for it. Rest assured, as soon as it is spotted it’s tweezed.

I didn’t used to have unwanted back hair. (Well, there’s the start to an infomercial if I’ve ever heard one!) It showed up quite unannounced not long after I became abruptly post-menopausal. And now two years into this new way of life there are three neck hairs (two thin, one thick), a chin hair (just the one) and lengthening moustache hairs (which, again, I tell myself are almost invisible…) that I also keep look out for. There’s a whole list of things that come with being post-menopausal and asking for a quick once-over of my jaw line with the electric razor at the end of a hair cut is now one of them.

It’s a lot for a body once flush with estrogen to suddenly have to acclimate to having none. I went to see a menopause specialist who said she would expect someone my age that is suddenly post-menopausal to experience severe hot flashes. Like all the great duos- Burns and Allen, Rogers and Hart, Salt n Pepa- menopause and hot flashes just seem to go together. I myself don’t experience really hot hot flashes, they’re more like warms. As it turns out, the medication I take to alleviate the nerve damage from the chemotherapy has a side effect of diminishing hot flashes: well there’s an unexpected benefit!

This year, aside from keeping my intentions for good self care, I want to be open to those unexpected benefits that are strewn across our path in life. The old adage ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade’ is an invitation to peace and acceptance. There is so much in life that is beyond my control. The only thing I do control is my reaction to situations; I do my best to focus on the positive. And, lovely as it would be to make that decision once and never have to make it again, it’s a choice that I must make time and time again. Each time I have to choose. Each time I get to choose.

It may be a while before I choose to make that appointment at a laser hair removal clinic (I’ve got a lot of dishes to do, you know). So I ask that if the light catches one of those wiry bandits and you see that unmistakable glint in the sun to please let me know discretely so that I may remove it. In this New Year with its new opportunities I pledge to do the same for you.

Choosing opportunities of peace,
Karen