THANKFUL FRIDAY

The first ones of the season

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There are three of us left working in the office and two of them are my supervisor and boss. People who can work from home are asked to do so. There is talk of everyone working from home by the end of the day, but nothing new has been announced. I have been stressed out over the idea of working from home mostly because so much of my work is hands on. There’s not much I can do from home except read articles. I have been happy to go to work this week and maintain some sort of routine, some sort of normal. It has been lonely here though. I like the people I work with. Those of us still here sort of mope around the place. I found myself crying at my desk on Wednesday because I couldn’t get my thermometer to work and that old man who has cancer in that news story the day before couldn’t go to his daughter’s wedding. It is a good time for meltdowns. No one’s here to witness it.

At lunch time on Wednesday, I threw on my jacket and marched myself out of the building. The sky was overcast, but the rain had stopped leaving the air cool and brisk. I started walking, taking the risk that it might rain on me and had the sidewalk all to myself. Crossing roads was easy due to the light traffic. As I walked, I noticed the greening of things, like the tips of bare tree limbs with tiny green buds breaking free. The black and white of Winter is slowly being colored in with red, purple, yellow and green. The bright yellow blooms of forsythia, our earliest bloomers, are a striking contrast to its still bare surroundings. I made my way up to the Nelson, which is closed right now. The sculpture garden remains open and I walked the winding trail that leads up to the east side of the Block Buildings. There, in the grassy space between the first two Block buildings, was a young woman just lying on her back staring up at the gray sky. I wondered how long she’d been there before sneaking a picture and then continuing on my way.

When you reach the space between the next two buildings, the path zigzags its way down to the south side of the Nelson. From my vantage point at the top of the zigzag, I could see just a bit of red peaking out of the courtyard and I picked up my pace. There are two small flower beds in the sculpture garden where the tulips have bloomed. Tulip greens have been up out of the ground for weeks now, but none of them have bloomed. These bright red tulips in these two almost hidden away flower beds were the first ones I have seen this season and my heart swelled at the sight of them. I had an almost unproportional reaction to the sight of them. Like something so simple should not be able to make me feel such joy. These bright little beacons of goodness popping up out of the soil were just so beautiful. Tulip season is always my favorite season but this year, more than ever, I needed to find these blooms.

Americans do not like being told what to do, but now is the time to set aside that stubborn willfulness and protect each other. Yes. It is hard. It is scary. At times it is lonely. I cannot visit my family. All of them fall into the high risk category and I cannot take the chance of the possibility of exposing them to this virus. I will not take that risk of losing them because I couldn’t follow orders. I take solace in knowing that eventually all of this will pass and this time will become a distant memory. So, for now, we hunker. Let’s not forget that we Americans are resourceful. We have been able to connect without being in the same room. Within minutes of hearing the mandates to shut down our city, dozens and dozens of people started posting about live concerts, live yoga, free books, free education classes. Online groups featuring distractions and games started forming. We have found ways to laugh and make the best of things. The CDC says we can still go outside as long as we keep our six foot distance from other people. So, GET OUTSIDE! Even if you have to bundle up or carry an umbrella or both.

Get out there and find your tulips.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Looking for the bright side

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My car is in the shop. This week has been an adventure in car pooling and scooter riding. Tuesday was one of those days where we had a goose, a bag of seed and a fox. Only one of us could fit in the rowboat at a time and we all had to get to the other side of the lake. We had several arguments/discussions on the best way to do this. I was pushing the idea of me riding my scooter. Michael was totally against me riding the scooter considering the temperature was thirty two degrees. My attitude shifted over to a you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do attitude, while Michael was just trying to get us all over to the other side of the lake without the fox eating the goose and the goose eating the bag of seed. I can tell you that I am not handling this without a bit of whining or flopping over with how exhausting the hassle of being down to one vehicle seems to be.

I am a spoiled brat.

For most of our time together, Chris and I barely had one fairly functional vehicle. There were a few rare years where we each had our own fairly functional vehicle and then there were the years where we both had scooters. I say that our vehicles were fairly functional because they always made the kinds of noises that made us believe that the only thing keeping the car going was hopes and dreams. Chris and I had an abundance of both hopes and dreams. We worked at the same place, which made things convenient and when I was teaching yoga, Chris just tagged along. He worked out in the gym while I taught class or joined my class at the studio. We were also fortunate enough to be near to Chris’s brother Brian, who can fix just about any car. Rumor has it that Todd’s/Chris’s Mazda that once hit a cow and had more than a quarter of million miles on it by the time we gave up on it, is still somewhere out there on the road thanks to Brian. I have no idea why now having one vehicle is such a big inconvenience other than I have just grown accustomed to the independence of having my very own car. There are a number of households who do not have any access to a car, the majority of those households are African American. They have to rely on public transportation or a friend just to get to work. Talaura relies on public transit every day. It’s great. When it’s working. Or when you don’t have to cart home bags of groceries. Public transportation is even more unreliable in areas of urban sprawl like much of the midwest.

I have made it to work on time, if not a little early, every day this week. I have made it to various appointments and classes. Michael has been able to continue with his open mic gigs. Our lives have not really been all that disrupted. I know I am privileged, but my reaction to being with out a car this week reminds me just how privileged I am and how easy it is to take that privilege for granted. In fact, I feel a bit ashamed of myself to tell you the truth. I mean, I can make excuses for myself. I was worried that I would need a whole new engine or stressed over coming up with the funds to pay for repairs. All of my excuses can be boiled down to one thing: inconvenience. I am going to be inconvenienced. And it isn’t even a big inconvenience. It will not cause me to lose my job. I will not have to choose between fixing the car and eating. There are too many households that have none of those luxuries.

This is not so much a reminder for me to be grateful for my privileges, but to be empathic, kind, and generous with those who do not have these privileges.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Margaret laid a petite egg

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When my alarm went off Thursday morning, I turned it off and then rolled back over to sleep. My body was tired and sore and I wasn’t ready to move. Tuesday’s torture class was truly torturous. Wednesday’s yoga class was more challenging than I had anticipated. Then I taught an equally challenging yoga class that evening. So, yeah, by the next day, this body was stiff and sore. I was still feeling bad about myself over Tuesday’s class and how much I struggled. I keep thinking that at some point this class is going to feel less torturous, but Tuesday had a lot of burpees, box hops and jumping jacks followed up with mountain climbers and pushups. My ankle hurt with every jump. My right thumb area of my palm hurt. My nose was running and all the sinus drainage left me with a cough that made it sound like I had a cold. I noticed the other women in the class not struggling as much as I seemed to be and I am easily the largest most unfit one of the bunch. I left class feeling like a big sweaty loser.

I tell my yoga students all the time to ‘stay on your own mat’. That means not paying attention to what others are doing and only focusing on your body. I forgot that this applies to me. I forgot that this goes for off the mat times as well. My ankle and my thumb were hurting not because muscles were working. I have joint pain because I’m not so young any more. The whole sinus issue that is happening when I exercise is not because I am out of shape. It’s actually a thing called exercise-induced rhinitis. Basically, the high intensity aerobic parts of the class are exacerbating my allergy symptoms. I just need to sniff some Flonase before class. Mostly though, I need to stop comparing myself or competing with the others in that class and just focus on doing the best I can in this body.

I need to give myself a break.

So when I woke up with a groan Thursday morning, I made the choice to sleep in, to make breakfast and then get in the shower when Michael was done in the bathroom. This is the opposite of my usual morning routine. Usually I am so attached to the timing of a routine that I don’t allow for any flexibility even at the expensive of my bodily health. The only consequences for my tardiness are the ones I give myself. The choice to rest really only set me back about fifteen minutes any way. I got to work and started my morning chore list without rushing myself or allowing myself to feel behind for the day. I snorted some Flonase and then went to torture class and focused on my own self. I did all of the jump roping and went up to a heavier weight for squats, taking breaks when I needed to take breaks. Then I high-fived myself in the mirror. I left class feeling like a medium sweaty winner.

I am not a house of cards that falls apart at the slightest disruption.

Giving myself breaks is not an excuse to not do the work; I can do both.

I might be allergic to exercise.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

8/52 Buddha Board Project Fading octopus

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Prints have been ordered for my April showing and the large prints finally arrived this week. I was the most worried about these because I have ordred large prints before from some place different and they did not turn out well. The photo paper was the desired size, but the actual photo printed onto that paper was smaller. So when I placed my order for six 16x20 prints (costing me almost $100), I set the computer down and headed to the bathroom to throw up. I’ve been waking up in night sweats and mumbling ‘disaster!’ with a jolt of panic because I have had yet another nightmare about picture sizes. When they finally showed up, I hesitated in opening them, but they are good. Actually…they are really good. I am fascinated by the one of a Japanese beetle. The size of the image makes it possible to see the battle scars and scratches on his beetle armor. I am happy with these prints.

Of course, now that this worry has been removed from my plate, others have taken its place. Wednesday night, as I drove to teach my yoga class, I started to feel overwhelmed by all of the things. I have spent every spare moment this week taking online courses for CPR training and I will spend four hours on Saturday in more CPR training, which feels like a lot of CPR training. My class that I’m teaching at the Y is struggling with attendance and I have started toying with the idea of finding an alternative teaching venue. We have been going through the process of refinancing the house and it is taking months. I have called twice, been sent to voicemail and emailed twice about what is going on and I have heard nothing back. I made Michael cancel spa-birthday because our debt is out of control and a spa day is an inappropriate use of funds right now. I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to hang pictures on a brick wall or figured out when I am supposed to get into the building to hang pictures. I need an HDMI cable and a way to hook up my laptop or even my iPad to a projector. I need to start putting together my lesson plan for my photography workshop.

Shut up! I know the workshop is not until June!

Michael has a comedy showcase Sunday night. March has Michael headed to San Fransisco for a conference and then he comes back to spring break. We need to pick up a chicken coop that JP has so generously gifted us. I need to figure out something really nice to give or do for him and his partner. I am behind on keeping up with people (Terry, how are you doing? You doing okay?). I think I’m volunteering for the AIDS Walk Open in a few weeks. At least, it is on the calendar. All of these things need to happen on top of normal day to day chores. I still don’t know who I’m voting for in the primaries AND I just got an email with a DIY video on how to tighten up your turkey neck that I have to watch. I also need to schedule my yearly exam, a haircut for Josephine, and an eye exam. When I think about all of it at the same time, my chest tightens and I struggle to draw a deep breath. I have been focusing on making mental lists and categories each morning during meditation to keep myself from hyperventilating. I have been mentally filing stuff into two major categories: things that I can do and things I have no control over.

Quite a bit of all of those worries have easily been placed into the things I have no control over category.

Thank goodness I got a firm handle on my meditation practice, particularly at a time when I have decided to fill my calendar with a whole bunch of things. The things I can do category is organized by timeline and what needs to happen first. I imaging these things in a manilla file folder, placed in order, and on the outside I’ve written with a fat Sharpie “SLOW YOUR ROLL”. I have assignments but those assignments are not due tomorrow. I am not, nor have I ever been, a procrastinator. I invested in a calendar so that I could keep myself organized and on task. All of the things that need to be accomplished and that I have control over will get done in the time it needs to be.

Slow your roll. And take a deep cleansing breath.

I’ve got this.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Tonight!

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I gave Michael a Christmas list last year to give him some gift ideas. One of the things on the list was tickets to see the New Pornographers. I really wanted to go to this concert and I knew I would not buy those tickets for myself. Michael and I don’t listen to the same kinds of music and so I am hesitant to drag him to a concert where I know he’s going to look for a corner to curl up and nap in. I knew that the New Pornographers was that kind of a concert, so I was surprised that he actually bought two tickets for me for Christmas. When he presented me with the tickets, I told him “You’ll enjoy it! Neko Case is in the band. You really liked that concert.” What I didn’t tell him was how much the two differ in musical style. They were playing at the Truman, which is a small warehouse venue near downtown. We walked in Wednesday night as Diane Coffee, the opener, was crooning into the microphone. Standing near the back of the crowd, Michael turned to me and said “I’m really surprised by this crowd. They all seem to be about our age.” I shrugged and said “yeah…the band’s been around since 1997 or something like that.”

We found a spot near the front right of the stage. I could see backstage and kept pointing out every time Neko Case walked passed the half open curtain. Then we waited for them to clear the stage and set up for the New Pornographers. I suddenly felt like something was missing and I pulled my phone from pocket as I realized what that was. I opened up messaging and pulled up Todd’s number and sent him the following: “We are at the New Pornographers concert and I can’t help but feel you should be here.” He responded a few minutes later expressing how much he wished he was there. Then I was flattened by a nostalgia tsunami. There was a time when most of my concert going experiences happened in small warehouse venues and half of the time Todd was right there with me hopping up and down to the music. When the Flaming Lips released Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, they played at the Coca-Cola Plex in Bricktown. You tag on the words ‘Coca-Cola’ and you would think this to be a big arena, but it really was just a little bit bigger that a roller rink. Liz Phair was the opener and Todd and I ended up standing on a slightly raised area in the back. Family of the Flaming Lips stood next to us. I remember overhearing conversations as the band played. “Isn’t that your claw-foot bathtub?” someone asked while the video for She Don’t Use Jelly played in the background. An older woman that could have been Wayne’s mom replied “Yeah, they pulled it out of the upstairs bathroom.”

I never stopped moving during that concert and the same could be said for the New Pornographer’s concert. From the moment they took the stage until the moment we left just after their last song, I was bouncing and swaying and singing along to the music. About an hour into the concert, Michael yelled into my ear that he had to go find a seat. He left me near the front, still bouncing and swaying. Only when I knew they were nearing the end did I finally stagger off to find him so we could retrieve our coats from coat check. I zipped up my coat and pulled on my hat and gloves, preparing myself to step out in the freezing temps. Then Michael and I took one last look into the main concert area.

Less than forget but more than begun
These adventures in solitude never done
To the names of our wounds
We send the same blood back from the wars

We thought, we lost you
We thought, we lost you
We thought, we lost you
It will all come back

I turned to look at Michael. He looked down at me and I could just barely hear him when said “That’s nice.” Then we turned and stepped out into the cold.

As we navigated our way through one way streets to get on the highway, I told Michael thank you for spending his evening listening to my music with me. He played it off by replying “I always listen to your music.” I disagreed with him. I told him that when I select music for us in the mornings, I select it with him in mind. More folk. A little bit country. Something he will recognize. The New Pornographers are really outside his musical wheelhouse.

So I meant it when I told him that I appreciated him for spending his evening outside his wheelhouse.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Rainbow road

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I dreamed I had a pet octopus. He was tiny and his name was Charlie. I got him from a kiosk at a mall. It was one of those operations where you build the habitat and then stick an animal in it. I was really mad about the size of the box I had to work with, but I put some white sand in the container with a nice rock. Then the attendant plucked a small pink octopus out of a tank full of octopus and placed it in my container. I gave Michael a solum look and said “He is going to die if we don’t move him into something better than this.” We took Charlie home where he then escaped his container and disappeared. I woke up before finding him dead or alive. I can only hope that Charlie found his way back to the ocean. All the way from Missouri.

I’ve a had a few people checking in with me this week what with it being Chris’s birthday, soon to be followed up with the anniversary of his death. Michael and I have so much on our calendars that we actually printed out the months of February and March and stuck them to our fridge. We’ve written in all of the things and we add things when necessary. I put Chris’s birthday and his death day on the calendar. I did this because every year Michael says something about not knowing the dates and wishing he knew the dates. I don’t want to be constantly reminding him because every time I do, it’s a reminder to me. And by golly, I KNOW those dates and I do not need the reminder. I also don’t want special treatment. I don’t want to be tip-toed around. I just want to go about my daily life, take a moment to be a little sad and swear at Chris for being dead, and move forward.

I am not pretending or protesting too much when I say that I am in a really really good place this year. My meditation practice is solid and consistent. I am not just being responsible for my own happiness, I am taking charge of my own happiness in fact, I’m putting it on the top of my list of things I need to take charge of. I have taken some chances that I did not ever see myself taking like teaching workshops and showing my photography in a space other than my own home. These are things that I never would have volunteered to do, nor are they things that I would have thought would bring me so much joy.

I am Charlie and I am escaping my tiny space for the big wide world.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I heart you

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What is the current state of your heart?

This was a question posed to me earlier in the week at the beginning of yoga class. We were taking our focus to our hearts. Every time I am prompted to focus on my heart, to visualize the state of it, I always picture a living anatomical version. I never picture a cartoon or paper mache version. It is always the real deal, as if I have ripped it straight out of my own chest and I’m holding it in my hand, looking directly at it. I guess I imagine that my own heart is about the size of the palm of my hand. Except when I look at my hands, which are small, I think that my heart has to be bigger than that. Then I start to wonder about the weight of that muscle, what it would feel like to hold that weight in my hand. Yes, I realize that picturing myself holding my own beating heart in all its gory detail makes me sound a bit disturbed. Please remember that I have a very scientific brain. You should have seen how excited I got this week over tissue sections of cavefish ‘eyes’ (they don’t have have eyeballs, only fat cells where their eyes should be, fascinating).

So there I was in yoga class, holding my beating heart in my hand and really studying it and I have to admit that it is not a pretty heart. There are wounds that have been partially sealed up with Frankenstein’s monster like sutures. Some of those sutures have seen better days and are worn thin and frayed, straining to hold together some wound that just doesn’t seem to ever want to heal. There are places between sutures where those wounds sort of gape open, irritably. I mentally give my heart a little shake, tap it with a finger and put my ear to it. I am surprised to discover that my heart sounds better than it looks. I have a Timex heart; it takes a licking and keeps on ticking. The next thing I do, only because I don’t know what else to do, is to mentally re-stitch those frayed sutures and tighten things up as best I can. I mentally clean things up a little before setting that heart back into place. Then I laugh at myself because it’s only during yoga or meditation where I mentally pull out an organ to study. And it always seems to be the heart. It probably wouldn’t hurt to repeat this process with some of my other internal organs. What is the current state of my spleen, for instance.

Sometimes, when I am meditating, I imagine thoroughly sweeping my brain with a broom.

After putting my heart back into place, I can tell you that my heart is holding together just fine. Michael says that I am not allowed to use the word ‘fine’, but it is suitable for now. Despite those unhealed wounds, the muscle is beating strong with a steady rhythm. I only feel a slight ache when I’m still enough to really pay attention and even in my morning meditation practice, my thoughts do not settle into that ache. My thoughts move about randomly as thoughts do. In a sense, I am never really still enough to pay that much attention to it. So I’m going to use the word ‘fine’ describe the state of my heart because it’s not a pretty one, but it is functioning properly. There is maybe even a little flicker of joy tucked inside of it. It seems almost monumental for this to be true for me in these winter months that I tend to hate so dang much. I am grateful for every wound on my heart. I am grateful for every suture holding those wounds together.

I am thankful for the strength and the determination of my heart to continue to beat strongly day in and day out.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Tilt

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I hear it a lot.

I’m giving up Facebook!

I don’t like what I see on Facebook, so I’m shutting my account down!

I’m tired of all the hatefulness. I’m cutting out Facebook!

It’s not just Facebook. The internet brings out some pretty gross human (?) behavior. I was reading a blog entry the other day from a woman I have followed since the birth of blogs. The entry was about the death of her dog and the comments left by some people were so awful and hateful. Some of the trolls on her site would even attack the nice comments left by her other readers. There is something about the online world that just brings out the ugliest in a person. Facebook is a bit more complicated than the blogging world, mostly because it is far more crowded. The idea was to create a space to bring people together and Facebook has done just that. I’m just not sure the founders realized how those connection would sometimes be made, like through a shared hatred for diversity. Facebook makes it so easy to share the worst, most reactionary drivel that it is no surprise to me that someone would hit a limit of seeing that crap and say “Enough!”

I have felt this way on a number of occasions. Especially when I see a hateful, often racist, posting from someone that I thought to know as kind and Christian. I mean people change over the years. Things go wrong in a life, but when you follow up a post about the good Lord with a post about hate, then somethings must have really gone wrong with your life. I see these posting and the rants and they disgust me. Yet, I’m still there. I am still on Facebook because I believe in that space to connect people in a good way. I don’t live near my family and some of my closest friends. I use that space to help me stay close, but I also try to use that space to share information, to create a space for open and effective communication and to spread goodness. This is why every time I get a birthday notification, no matter if I only know that person in passing, I will tell that person to have a spectacularly happy birthday. I want you to know that I don’t just type the words to type them or in hopes of some sort of acknowledgment. I truly, with my whole heart, mean the good wishes that I post on a person’s Facebook page. I feel that by posting heartfelt birthday wishes, reliably sourced information and an open and effective communication platform, I am creating a Facebook that I want to see.

You must be the change you wish to see in the world. - Mahatma Gandhi

So I am so thankful for each and every person who left me birthday wishes, not just for the kindness of being told “Happy Birthday”. Whether you realize it or not, your birthday wishes play into my plan to make Facebook a better place. Thank you.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Mom in camouflage on the beach in Dingle Ireland. Today, I wish we were back there, laughing at the cow (penis) some one drew in the sand. Happy Birthday Mom!

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My Mom asked me once what instrument I would want to play. It was obvious that I was not into the whole piano thing. Getting me to sit down and practice was a constant battle. I told my Mom that if I could play anything, it would be the cello. The cello makes a sound that resonates in my body and soothes my heart, but our little town only had band. No orchestra. No stringed instruments. My big brother played the drums and he’s cool. So, I picked up some sticks and settled into percussion. One day, while Mom was working at the Oklahoma Well Log Library, she heard a geologist talking about an old cello in his attic. Mom bought that cello from him for $75. It needed new everything, pegs, strings, bridge. It had a crack down one side. We spent another $300 in repairs. Mom found me a teacher who got me into a special youth orchestra. There wasn’t money for a case and I carried my cello around wrapped up in an old sheet until Mom made me a vinyl cello case. Yup. She MADE it. It was gray vinyl with floral print trim. The pockets for music and bow and the handles were made with the floral print trim. It was perfect and the envy of many in the youth orchestra. I played that cello for years. I stopped playing in college because I no longer played in an orchestra and the pegs no longer stuck in place to hold the strings in tune. I couldn’t justify the money for replacing the pegs. A new version of my life took over. Eventually, I sold the cello to help pay for yoga teacher training. I do miss it, though I don’t even know if I remember how to read music any more. Some times I think about buying another cello and maybe some day I will. But I will always be grateful for that first cello.

From the things my Mom has said over the years, I have a strong impression that she was never really supported in her passions as a child. I think that was her driving force behind doing everything to encourage us. When my brother showed an interest in art and an aptitude for drawing, she enrolled him in a prominent art class. When my sister wanted to dance, she put us both in a serious dance school. She drove us to dance class, art class, music lessons, and competitions. She made costumes. She did fundraisers. She spent money that Dad probably didn’t know she was spending. Mom did the best she could to provide us with the tools we needed for our creative outlets. Heck, she still does this; she gifted me a new journal at Christmas. I am reminded of Marmee March and how she encouraged her daughters in all of their endeavors even if those endeavors did not meet with societal propriety. My Mom was a Marmee March. It took me a long time to realize that not every kid had a Marmee March who would support their children in their creative endeavors. As grateful as I may be about that cello, I am even more grateful to have the kind of mom who supports creativity.

My Mom celebrated a birthday on Wednesday. And after a bit of a scary start to this year, I am also thankful that she’s here to celebrate another year of her life.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Thursday

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I sat down on the couch in Dr. Mary’s office. It had been weeks since my last appointment. Maybe not weeks, but definitely before the start of the New Year. Dr Mary looked at me, tilted her head to the side while squinting her eyes and said “You look really good. You look rested. Are you rested?” I’m not so sure I am well rested but I do feel more relaxed than usual. This is an unusual feeling for this time of year because January is the month where I feel like crawling into a cocoon of blankets and not coming out until sometime in March. And this year kicked itself off with a big whammy. On New Year’s Eve, my mom was in a car accident.

She’s okay.

But I have concerns that I am not talking about here.

I started making some mental health changes back in October like thinking about where I am wasting my energy and taking a different approach with the things that trigger my anxiety. My new morning routine is getting really good to me. The alarm goes off at 5:00 AM, I roll out of bed and put on my robe. Then I head to the kitchen to turn the kettle on to boil water. I go to the bathroom and then back to the kitchen where I slice up a lemon. I place two lemon slices in a mug with a dollop of honey and once the water comes to a boil, I fill up the mug. Then I go and take a seat for twenty minutes of meditation that includes ten rounds of alternate nostril breathing and twenty four rounds of a mantra. The rest of the time is spent sitting still with my thoughts. When the timer goes off, I sip on my hot lemon water while writing it all down in a journal. Then I get up and get going with my day. The changes that I started implementing in October coupled with my renewed meditation practice is making a world of a difference. That first week of meditation did not include the lemon water and I really believe it is the act of making this hot lemon water that has really grounded this practice into place. I am not saying that every morning is easy. There are still some mornings when I really want to hit that snooze button, but I don’t. I don’t because I know that I will feel better if I just get up. I wrote in my journal yesterday about being tired and feeling sluggish that morning. I wrote about the animals trying to get my attention, Josephine pawing at me to scratch her head, the cat meowing loudly outside my door. I even forgot to start my meditation timer, which I corrected after my mantra rounds. I finished my meditation practice while gently scratching behind Josephine’s ears, but I showed up. I did the practice and I don’t feel like crawling into that blanket cocoon. In fact, the other morning when I went on my coffee loop, I felt almost…dare I even say…happy?

Thursday morning, when Michael stepped outside to decide if the cars needed to be defrosted, he realized that the temperatures were unusually warm for a January. He came in looking suspicious and then went to see if his scooter would start. It started right up and he came back into the house declaring it to be fake Spring and everybody needs to ride a scooter to work day. My scooter did not start right up. There was a far amount of engine coughing before I finally got it going, but when it finally came to life, I zipped to work at light speed. The ride in made me positively giddy. I mean, scooter rides never happen in January and it probably won’t happen again until real Spring shows up. It’s supposed to start sleeting today with snow predicted for all day Saturday.

I am ending this week with some profound gratitude for unusually warm days in January that allow for a scooter ride, but also for this practice that is serving me so well.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

1/52 A new 52 week project begins.

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For every year we’ve been together, Michael has struggled with what to put in my Christmas stocking. I am not much of a snacker or candy eater. I’m never sitting on the couch and suddenly say something like “I want Reese’s Pieces!” I’m pretty hard to buy snacks or candy for because chances are it just won’t get eaten. I’m not purposefully depriving myself. I’m just usually not a snacker. Snacking is like my Coke-a-cola cravings. Sometimes I think I really want a Coke. Then I’ll take three or four sips of it and be done. Those baby cans of soda where made for people like me and sometimes I don’t even finish one of those. Surprising me with things in my stocking is not an easy task. Michael’s done a great job at changing his mindset on what goes into a Christmas stocking. Usually he gets me some nice almonds and a really good chocolate bar. I can make a really good candy bar last for more than a week. This year I got fire roasted crickets, which is funny because I also got him some fire roasted crickets. Neither of us have been brave enough to open these up and give them a go.

Last year, Michael put a desktop sand garden in my stocking. I took that little garden to work and then decided it would make a great photography project. By this time, I had completed my 365 day project and was so over the idea of doing another one. I just didn’t have it in me to commit to a picture every day, but I looked at my little Zen sand garden and thought “what about a picture a week?” A picture a week seemed like less of a commitment and still kept my toes in the creativity pool. So, once a week for the entire year of 2019, I took a few minutes to draw in the sand or not draw in some cases. I carefully took a picture of my creation and posted it to an album in Flickr. The album did not garner much attention in the Flickr community. Some times I would share a photo on Instagram if I really liked what I had done, but really the project was mostly just for me. In fact Michael wasn’t even really aware I had been doing this until I posted my very last picture in the project.

This year, Michael stuck a Buddha Board in my stocking. He said that when he realized I had turned my Zen sand garden into a photo project that I would need something new for 2020. Michael thought that the Buddha Board would be a good for this. And he’s right. Michael does a really good job with providing me with tools that help feed my creativity. I have played around with both the Buddha board and Zen garden when they were on display in various stores and every time I have thought about how fun it would be to have one of these on my desk. Yet, I never purchased one. The Fortune Cookie journal is another one of things that I never would have purchased for myself. I would have picked it up int he store and flipped through the pages while thinking about projects, but that would have been it. I have a hard time spending money on things like this for myself. Maybe they seem to frivolous for me to purchase or I just feel like it is wasteful to spend money on myself in this way. But Michael does not see it that way.

I am thankful for his field of view that differs from my own. I am thankful for his ability to see something and think “I bet Cindy could do something really fun and creative with that.” I am thankful for the way he encourages my creativity. I’m pretty sure he believes more in my creative talents than I do.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Nothing except

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Thursday evening, I attended a yoga mala to celebrate the upcoming Winter Solstice. I signed up for it ages ago and kind of forgot about it. Then I remembered that I had decided to do this and I regretted putting my name on the sign up sheet. Everything that I could get into the mail has been sent. All the presents have been wrapped. Josephine’s been to the groomer’s. The house is as clean as I can get it right now what with all the snow and Christmas clutter. Despite all of that, I still had a lot to do before we headed out to Mom’s for the weekend. Did I really have an hour and half to spare for 108 sun salutations? Did I really have the energy to spare for 108 sun salutations?

The table in our break room is covered with treats. There are cookies and spicy Chex mix and some sort of homemade chocolate/peanut cup that must be laced with crack because I cannot stop eating them. I don’t understand how there are any still left. They have to be multiplying in the night. I am not a snacker or much of a stress eater, but on any given day this week you could find me shoving a handful of Chex mix into my mouth or two chocolate/peanut cups. Conversations that need to happen are weighing heavy on my mind. I am super busy at work (Do you read the New York Times ?!? Science doesn’t stop for the Holidays). We have a new dish soap that smells like Chris on the day he died and I am filled with anxiety that I will not come close to meeting the expectations some might have of me. Wednesday night, I dreamed that I stepped on the scale and was delighted to see that I had lost weight. Then the number on the scale started dropping. My delight turned to panic as I realized that I was disappearing.

So the real question I should have been asking myself was how could I not spare the time for 108 sun salutations? It is the time of year for self-care gurus to shout the loudest because they know how hard the Holiday season can be on a human. Social engagements, bright lights, loud noises, the struggle to meet expectations. All of these things wreck havoc on our mental and physical well being. Spending an hour and a half on my mat, in a place where I feel the most confident, secure and comforted, is the very least I can do for myself. But this class was not an easy lay on the floor yoga class. This was a physically and mentally challenging class. I mean a sun salutation is the original burpee. A hundred and eight of them with some warrior poses thrown in here and there and you will be left a sweaty mess with noodle arms. The mental aspect was just as rough. We started the class in meditation where Kelly asked us to focus on the 2009 self. “What piece of advice or warning would you give the 2009 you?”

Ha! Seriously? Buckle up baby.

Then we got to the very last round and suddenly Kelly was yelling at us to stay strong. “You are strong. Don’t ever believe that you are not strong.” And there I was pushing myself to stay in proper form as I lowered down through chaturanga, sweaty and crying and doing this. It is tattooed on my fucking wrist. I am strong. All that stuff up there. The hard conversations, the dish soap, not meeting expectations. They are nothing. I’ve had harder conversations. That dish soap can go in the garbage. I don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations except for the ones I set for myself. I am not responsible for anyone else’s happiness but my own. I am doing my best and right now my best is good enough for me. There is so much gratitude in that knowledge.

Don’t ever believe that you are not strong.

I am sending out a wish for peace and joy to all of you this Holiday Season.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Last night

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I came home to a giant stack of mail and a house that needs to be cleaned. Christmas cards need to be addressed and sent out. There are a few gifts that need to go into the mail. I have one actual present to buy and candy to go in stockings. There are also a bunch of presents that need to be wrapped. We forgot about our advent calendar and are seven days behind. I have two pairs of clean underwear left in the drawer and the inside of our refrigerator looks like it was raided by apocalyptic marauders. I have a lot of things to do at home and at work. If anything, recovery from DC should be at the top of my to-do list. This DC trip sort of wrecked havoc on my body.

There were many late nights followed with really early mornings. There was a time change and it seemed that most mornings I was waking up at 4:30 AM their time which is 3:30 AM my time. The last night there, I went to bed around 1:00 AM and then woke up at 4:30 in the morning. And I was AWAKE. I could not go back to sleep, so I just watched bad TV until the sun came up. Then there’s this weird rash that kind of looks like poison ivy that just showed up on my back. It itches like crazy. I don’t know if this is also part of that rash, but random bumps that resemble bug bites have started to show up on my legs and arms. The other night, I put lotion on my hands before crawling into bed. My hands were so dry and cracked that they started to itch and burn from the lotion. This plus the rash and bug-like bumps made my whole body itchy. Micheal came in to say goodnight and I was laying in bed, clawing at my skin like a meth head.

Side note: It was just like that time my mom gave me a prescription pain med when I had my wisdom teeth removed. She came in the middle of the night to check on me and I was writhing and scratching. I wildly yelled at her “MY SKIN IS CRAWLING!” and Mom said “Oh no” and then threw out the rest of that pain medication.

When I’m not scratching my skin off, I’m losing things. My car wouldn’t start when I got home Tuesday night and security had to come jump start my car. I finally made it home, started taking off all of my jewelry and realized that one of my silver rings from Tiffany’s was missing. Actually, it was the first ring Michael ever bought me and I got real panicky. I searched pockets and mittens and had decided that it had just fallen off of my finger somewhere. I felt a little sick to my stomach over the loss and I was pretty convinced it was gone forever. Then I opened my suitcase and started to unpack and I found my ring under my toiletry bag. Wednesday morning, I left the house for work and somewhere between locking the front door and getting into my car, I lost a t-shirt I had nabbed for a co-worker from a company booth. I later found that t-shirt in the back seat of my car.

So here’s what I am thankful for this week. I am thankful for finding the things I thought I had lost. This includes people I hadn’t seen in over twenty years.

Next week will be easier.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Travel day

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Today, I am headed to Washington D.C. for a cell biology conference. The last, and only time, I was in DC was for a high school band trip with an itinerary packed so full that I didn’t have time to take a breath, let alone actually really see anything. The worst moment of that trip was when our charter bus pulled up to the National Mall and our tour guide said “Do you see these Smithsonian Museums? Pick one. You’ve got one hour.” I flew through the Natural History Museum as if I was being chased by tigers. I have a hazy memory of a giant whale and the Hope diamond. I don’t expect that I will have much time for sightseeing on this trip either. I’ve already booked a round trip train ticket to Baltimore for an evening with friends where I get to Baltimore around 4:00 in the afternoon and leave at 5:30 in the morning the next day.

I told my friends that I would be sneaking out of their house that morning. I’m reliving my twenties.

This (too) short visit to Baltimore and the conference are going to take up a majority of my time. I have done some research on places where I might leave Chris and I have narrowed down my list of possible museum visits. Really, I have done the most research on where I am going to eat while I am there. There’s a place called Hip City Veg that I am very excited about and it is like a vegan Shake Shake. DC saw an influx in Ethiopian refugees in the 70s and 80s, fleeing from a war-torn nation. Because of this, Ethiopian food is a big part of the food scene in DC. My plan is to eat my weight in y’ misir we’t and injera. I also have a vegan falafel place on my list. In fact, I am more excited about my food options than I am about seeing the Capitol. Which is fine. My belly can be the tourist on this trip. Really…my belly tends to be the tourist on most trips.

Food is culture and I can’t think of a better way to explore a city and learn about the people who live there then by eating their food.

I’m excited to finally be going back to Washington DC and having the opportunity to explore it in a completely different way. DC in December is bound to be beautifully decorated with colorful lights. The weather is supposed to be mild. My conference schedule has filled up with talks and demos that I think sound really interesting. It is also a spicy time to be in DC with all the political drama. And as I sit here thinking about it all, I have to stop and take a moment to be grateful for such an opportunity. Sometimes my life really looks like it couldn’t possibly belong to me. Both in good ways and bad ways. Right now, in this moment, I am thankful for the good.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Sparse

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I walked all the way to Los Angeles. Along the way, I passed through isolated towns that consisted of run down diners and two-pump gas stations. Tumbleweeds the size of boulders rolled across the two-lane highway. Sometimes I would spot a roadrunner or jackrabbit. There were several miles where I was followed by a lone coyote. Every time I stopped to drink from my water bottle, he would sit and look off into the distance with an air of indifference. I passed an area of white sand and could see several dune buggies bouncing over the hills and could hear people whooping and hollering as the buggy leaped into the air. I just kept on walking. When I reached the outskirts of L.A., I had to cross an old bridge that was made from just random pieces of wood laid down here and there. I could see nails sticking out of some planks and crumbled edges of plywood. This was not a sturdy bridge, but I stepped out onto the first plank. I proceeded to make my way, creeping along slowely and carefully, sometimes having to leap over missing sections and just having to trust that I was landing on something solid.

But I made it across.

Once I crossed the bridge, I found myself in the most beautiful cemetery. The headstones and memorials were all pieces of art. The largest one that stood out in the middle of the cemetery was a large rounded horse with a large rounded person sitting on top. It looked like a sculpture by Diego Rivera except the person riding the horse was painted up as the most beautifully glorious drag queen with big blond hair and bright blue eyeshadow. I spent hours wandering around this cemetery, gazing at all the different headstones. I eventually made my way back to the center and sat down in front of the Diego Rivera like sculpture. Then I started to weep. It wasn’t that I was sad; I was just overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, the headstones and the people the headstones memorialized. It was all so stunning. I was overwhelmed with how this place honored those that resided there.

I woke up with tears still streaming down my face and thinking that the sight of that cemetery was truly worth crossing that scary bridge, because the walk itself was not a bad time. There was plenty to see as I walked along the highway. Sure, it was a long walk. The weather was unpredictable with hot sunny days and sudden rain storms. The wind blew constantly, swirling up dirt devils, but the landscape was beautiful. The sunrises and sunsets looked like paintings in the sky. Some times I would stop in one of those diners for a meal and I would chat with locals. I would be completely drawn into their stories they had to share about their lives and this place. I greeted every wildlife sighting with the wonder and fascination of a small child. It was truly a joy to be on this trek. Really, the only horrible part of that walk was crossing that bridge into L.A. It was the only time in my dream that I was terrified. My legs shook with each tentative step. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry. There were times I thought that I could not do this. I could not make it across this bridge. I was going to fall to my death.

Except, I didn’t.

I know full well what that walk to L.A. represents. I know what the truly horrible part is and I know that there is something truly beautiful and amazing on the other side of the truly horrible. I am thankful for the other side.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Orange

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Yesterday, as I was driving home from work, I found myself behind a Ford Fusion with a personalized tag that read ‘FOCUS’. And I had questions. First of all, did the driver think they had purchased a Ford Focus? Or maybe they had previously owned a Ford Focus and just moved the tag over to this one? Maybe the driver was an optometrist? Though, I feel like maybe an optometrist would drive something more expensive than a Fusion? Except, now that I really think about it, if they are an optometrist then they’re probably still paying back student loans. Optometry school is EXPENSIVE! Then I thought that maybe the driver was just saying “FOCUS”. Focus on the road ahead of you. Focus on the task you are engaged in. Pay attention. My brain immediately goes for the most complicated answer when it really may be just a simple reminder to pay attention.

I haven’t been doing a great job keeping up with a gratitude practice lately. I skipped an entry for last week entirely. I had written something. Actually I had written, deleted, re-written, deleted, re-written and decided to hit ‘delete’ instead of ‘publish’. The weather combined with the lack of sunlight was making me sound like a total crank pot. I did not sound grateful, but I was also working hard at writing something profound or meaningful. I was working too hard and I was reaching for something more complicated. I was reaching for something to be thankful for.

I should never have to reach.

When ever I find myself reaching for gratitude, I step back and take a breath. I take a moment to say this simple prayer.

I am thankful for the roof over my head. I am thankful for the nourishing food that is sustaining this body. I am thankful for the beautiful people I have in my life who support and love me.

I take a moment to focus.

WRECKAGE

Someone's having a bad vacation

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Eric and Melissa stood silently staring as the RV that had been their home for the last two years burned. A small, now empty, fire extinguisher dangled from Eric’s left hand. Melissa had managed to run inside the RV and grab both of their backpacks that contained their laptops and a laundry basket of clothing. Both backpacks where still hanging on her shoulder with the laundry basket propped on one hip. Melissa turned to Eric and opened her mouth to say something, but he put up his hand and shook his head. They could hear sirens in the distance and their gaze shifted to the fire truck as it sped down the interstate in one direction. The fire truck would have to go north for more than a mile just to find a turn around spot. Melissa reached over and grabbed Eric’s hand. She gently tugged him back from the burning wreckage to what she thought might be a safe distance. A loud ‘BOOM’ accompanied with an intense burst of flames lifted the entire RV slightly off the ground sending it bouncing back down hard on the tires.

The fire truck pulled into the desolate parking lot and the fire fighters all jumped from the truck ready for action. Melissa looked over at Eric again, his face lit with the flames from the fire and she could see tears streaming down his face. She leaned over and said “I’m going over to that picnic shelter to call my mom, Okay?” Eric just nodded his head without bothering to look at her, still transfixed by the scene of destruction in front of him. Melissa sighed and then set down all of the stuff she’d managed to salvage before the fire had spread from the engine to rest of the RV. She walked over to a picnic shelter that was far enough away from the noise and dialed her mother’s number on her cell. It was pretty late. Her mom was probably already in bed.

Mom? It’s me. Melissa.

Melissa! What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late? Are you okay?

Everything’s fine. Well…depending how you look at it. Eric and I are stranded at a rest stop in Oklahoma. The RV caught fire and has now burned down to the tires. We’re watching firefighters attempt to put the major flames out as I speak. I am going to ask them to take us to the nearest town and check into a hotel. After that, I don’t know what do.

I’m coming. I’m coming to get you.

Mom.

NO! I’m coming to get you RIGHT NOW! Text me with address information when you get to the hotel.

Thank you, Mom. I love you

I love you sweet pea. Momma is on her way.

Melissa sighed in relief as she ended the call and tears filled up in her eyes. She looked over at Eric who was now sitting on the curb. One of the firefighters was crouched down in front of him saying something to Eric. Eric didn’t even nod his head in response. He just continued to stare at the charred remains of the RV. Melissa walked over to the firefighter. “Sir? My husband seems to be in a bit of a shock. I’m…I’m sure he’ll snap out of it, but in the meantime, is it possible to get a ride into town? Maybe a town with a motel?” The fireman stood and turned to her “Of course ma’am’. We just need to be certain that the fire is completely out and then wrap up our stuff. I’ll come get you when we’re ready.” Melissa nodded her head and said “thank you.” Then she sat down on the curb next to Eric, their only belongs stacked in a small mound on her other side.

There was a lot that needed to be said. Melissa should explain that her mother was coming to get them, that they’d figure out everything. She wanted to say that they would call the insurance company as soon as they reached a hotel. She wanted to say that this was just a temporary set back, everything was going to be okay. Instead, Melissa said nothing. She looked at the RV, now just black charred metal, and couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Melissa couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that the RV had read her thoughts. The RV had seen inside Melissa’s heart and found out how much she hated this RV, this life. The RV knew that Melissa had reached her limit of tolerance and that Melissa was struggling with finding the words to tell Eric how much she hated this RV and how she wanted nothing of this life with him. She’d given it two years and she felt no different today than when they started this crazy plan. Melissa had tried. She really had, but she couldn’t do this another second. It was if the RV understood all of that and sacrificed itself to give her a new start, a way out.

“Your mother doesn’t need to come. We can just get someone to take us to the nearest RV dealership and get a new RV.” Eric said, still staring at the wreckage. Melissa turned and looked at her husband. His eyes were open wide and he looked a little crazy. She realized that he was more than a little crazy. He was certifiable. Melissa placed her hand on Eric’s shoulder “Eric…honey…I am never getting in another RV with you. Ever again.” Then Melissa stood. She picked up her backpack and the laundry basket and walked over to the fire truck, away from her husband and his beloved RV.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Team building

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I had to walk a tight rope this week. Not a figurative tight rope. An actual tight rope made of wire. It was two feet off the ground, but at this age, falling two feet could hurt. I didn’t do this completely unassisted. I had some support since it was a team building thing, but I will say that I did most of my tight rope walking with very minimal assistance. I really feel like if I had had some time on my own, just a few minutes really, I would have been dancing along that rope with zero assistance. It is quite possible that I could have a second career as a tight rope walker for a circus. I shouldn’t be surprised with this ability. I dominated the balance beam during my short gymnastics stint, but a wire is very different from a balance beam.

Wires move.

The wire vibrates and bounces with each step, even while attempting to stand still. The tension and strain from trying to hold yourself steady flows right down to the wire, which then begins to vibrate from side to side. You body turns rigid in effort to stop the wire from moving, but this causes the wire to move even more. At least, this was my experience. The harder I worked to get the wire to be still, the more the wire moved. The wire would only stop moving if I paused to take a moment to focus solely on my breath and release the tension from body. Balance is not rigid. It is fluid. You have to be able to sway and trust me when I tell you that this fluidity counter acts the movement of the wire. This doesn’t mean that muscles aren’t engaged and you are all loosey goosey. I could feel every single one of my core muscles tighten up to help me balance. I guess it’s more of dancer like movement and less of a hold it together by brut force kind of thing.

The physical act of wire walking is the most obvious metaphor for life.

It is so painstakingly obvious that I am kicking myself for all of the many many many times I tried to hold shit together by shear force. And I know this from my practice on my mat. I know that when I pause to focus on my breath, when I allow myself to sway and bend, everything that is supposed to fall into place, falls into place. That’s the key: Everything that is supposed to fall into place, falls into place. This means dropping any ideas of controlling everything to fall into place. Instead I need to focus on the things that I can control. Recently, I wrote up a list of reasons of why I am unhappy. It turned out to be a very short list. So I followed that list with a list of ways I could fix the unhappy list. What I realize about the things on the unhappy list is that they all consist of things that I can’t really control, like other people’s behavior. The solutions to those things are to control my reactions. Some of that means speaking up more and some of it means putting less effort into things. I have stopped trying so hard to make the wire stop vibrating.

This is what I’m thankful for today.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Holding on

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I did some research and decided that I needed to change up my exercise routine. All that research kept pointing me to articles on ‘women of a particular age’ and strength training. So, instead of getting on a stationary bike and riding six miles on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’m attending a ‘strength and sweat’ class at the gym. I hate it, but I’m committed. The teacher, Colleen, makes it easier for me to be committed to attending the class. She sees me in the gym every day, doing my yoga practice and commented that she was in awe of that practice. When I walked in to her class that first Tuesday, Colleen exclaimed “You’re coming to my class?! Yay!” Later on she asked me why I was switching things up. We had a conversation about our age group and exercise and Colleen knew exactly what I was feeling. She knows I hate doing all of the things we do in her class and she sympathizes. She’s really good at encouraging without being overly cheerleader like and she’s always checking in with me (and pretty much everyone else in the class) to see how I’m doing or if I’m overdoing it.

This makes all the difference.

That doesn’t mean I like the class any better today than when I started last week. But having an instructor who gets you, makes it a whole lot easier to be there. The class has also been a bit of wake up call and quite humbling. We partnered up on Tuesday and while one of the duo performed a round of five pushups, ten sit-ups and twenty squats, the other person had to jump rope. I wasn’t good at jumping rope when I was in elementary school let alone at age forty three. I finally hit a good jumping rhythm without tripping up in the last minute of our ten minute routine. All this time, I thought I was in shape, but it turns out I was just a shape and that shape was not prepared for jumping around while punching ten pound dumbbells into the air. This realization was a bit humbling. At the end of week two, though, I have to say that I do feel better. On Thursday, I glanced over at my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors while we were doing squats and I did a double take. I was all “wha...is that my butt?!?” My butt looks less like the-party’s-over-deflated balloons and more like this-might-be-a-party balloons. My butt has a new shape!

Take a moment to have gratitude in yourself for your practice today

This is something I tell my students at the end of my classes. This is something I say to myself at the end of my own time on the mat. This is something I never say to myself off the mat. Today I am going to take a moment to have gratitude in myself for starting this new practice and for staying consistent with this new practice. I am going to take a moment to be grateful for this body’s ability to keep up even when things got difficult, even though I was often ungraceful and often outside of my comfort zone. I think maybe I need to be outside of my comfort zone some times.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

New art by @jaymebrandt. It might be my favorite thing on the wall, second only to Jen's Wonder Woman painting.

8 Likes, 0 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "New art by @jaymebrandt. It might be my favorite thing on the wall, second only to Jen's Wonder..."

The first time Michael and walked into Tee Rex while visiting Eureka Springs a year or so ago, my heart flipped over in my chest. This shop wasn’t there during my and Chris’s many many visits to Eureka Springs. I’m sure if it had been, we would have packed our things and moved right on in. It is a store that Chris would have never left without purchasing twenty things. Tee Rex sells nostalgia. I have to admit that when I walk into that store, I want to buy more than twenty things. From original Strawberry Shortcake to The Get A Long Gang to Popples, I see my childhood/tween years flash before my eyes and I have serious wants. I almost bought an original Lemon Meringue doll during this last visit, but I refrained.

There are many a display case in Tee-Rex devoted to vintage Star Wars toys and the owner, James Brandt, is a graphic designer who does Star Wars themed art. Michael and I both own his Force Awakens t-shirt that features Star Wars characters in various stages of wakening up in the morning. I’ve already spilled tortellini soup on mine. The last time Michael and I were in the shop there was one particular print that caught my eye. It is a print called Cy-Fi Cycling Club and consists of wonderful renditions of Star Wars characters on various kinds of bicycles. Each bicycle is themed for different ships and crafts. Chewie and Han are riding a slightly janky tandem bike with Millennium Falcon accents. The Ewoks are on Big Wheels because of course. Michael walked up to my side as I stood gazing at this print and I said “I want this. I am going to buy this.” Michael agreed and said that it is nice to have art on the wall from artists other than yourself. So now that print is hanging on the wall above my desk. I sit or stand there and study it and I always find something new to see.

Michael is no where close to the Star Wars fan that Chris was, nor do I expect him to be. I think some of Michael’s appreciation for the series comes from my influence on him. That’s fine. I am quick to admit that I am a Star Wars fan girl mostly due to the influence of Chris. Michael is into bicycles. When we met, he was riding his bike everywhere. He knows all the ends and out about bicycles and is in charge of the household’s bicycle maintenance. Chris used to go to Staples just to look at pens in the pen isle. Well, Michael goes to bike shops just to look at bicycle stuff. So you see, the Cy-Fi Cycling Club is a nice combination of my past and present. Chris and Michael. Something I am always battling with is how the past might be judging my present. When I look at this print, I forget about any kind of judgement. I forget about feeling guilty.

This is why you put art on your walls from artists other than yourself.