THANKFUL FRIDAY

I did a long list of chores on Sunday, but there are still projects that I need to do around the house. It is time for a deep cleaning, washing rugs and sweeping behind furniture. I would also like to paint our dining room hutch since Ikea is never going to have the replacement cabinet in stock. I am taking a week of vacation time to do all of those things, but before I dig into cleaning, I’m escaping for the weekend.

I signed myself up for an all women’s retreat in Hot Springs, AR and two of my friends from camp will be riding in the car with me. We leave in a very short few hours and I can’t really wait to hit the road. When I left work yesterday, I left behind some smoldering fires. The 488 laser is out on our spinning disk confocal and people are supposed to be here (supposed to be) today to start in on the repair. The plate loading robot for our high content confocal is currently stuck holding a plate because it lost connection with the microscope and as much as I tried to communicate with tech support for this, I was unable to get any answers or replies. I did the only thing I could do and that was to throw my hands in the air and walk out of the building.

I almost feel the same way about home. The lawnmower is in pieces and we’re still fending off raccoons. Michael trapped one yesterday. I think it was Ralph. Emerson is bigger and I have yet to determine if there is a Waldo. I was told that if you think there are two raccoons, then there are really four or five of them. The light for Micheal’s new ceiling fan is not working properly and might involve an electrician. Instead of sticking around here and dealing with this current state of chaos, I’m hopping into a car to spend a weekend digging crystals and doing yoga. There’s some sort of moon ceremony happening. Basically, I’m playing witch for a weekend. Or pretending to be a little bit Scarlet.

Today is about trust. I leave here having to put all of my trust in other people to handle the smoldering fires until I return. I have to trust that Michael will remember to close the dog doors at night and that the techs who are supposed to show up will actually show up and fix the laser. It’s okay if some of those fires are still smoldering when I return. I have to trust that other people will tend to the smoldering fire to keep it from becoming a full blaze before I return.

Now I’m off to dig up some crystals.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

After holding my egg up to a candle, I discovered that there wasn’t anything growing inside of it. No puggle. No puggle with dragon wings. Nothing but egg goo. The egg wasn’t stinky and rotten though. So, I cracked it open, scrambled it up with some green onions and cheese, and I ate it. It was delicious. With every bite, I pondered my reasons for even picking up the egg in the first place and what I could learn from the experience of holding onto the egg. It’s a lot of analogy and vagueness for conveying that I am not moving to England.

Instead, I have thrown myself deep into my work and I am focusing on learning some new tricks.

If the egg was a lemon, I’d be making lemonade.

It seems fitting that I am shifting gears and focus right as we move from August into September. The fireflies gave way to the cicadas and crickets a month ago, but in the last two weeks I’ve noticed a stillness in the mornings that doesn’t always exist in the hottest months. Nothing has started buzzing yet and the sun is just barely up when Josephine and I return from our morning walks. The sidewalks are littered with cicada bodies. A few trees are getting patches of yellow leaves. The air smells different. Everyone but me is leaping into it all and saying “hurry up, Fall!”. I’m over here whispering '“not yet.” I’m not ready for the end of summer not just because I’ll miss the weather. I’m not ready because I want more time to marinate in this current mental state.

I want to formulate some new goals and edit my old goals. I haven’t felt this relaxed about making life changes in years. Usually, the thought of even attempting to make a goal made me so anxious that in the end, I would drop it because I am just going to fail anyway. This summer, forty six years into my life, I realized that I can fail at lot of things.

Every failure here branched off into a success for another Evelyn in another life. Most people only have a few significant alternate life paths so close to them. But you, here, you're capable of anything because you're so bad at everything. - Alpha Waymond Wang (Everything Everywhere All at Once)

Maybe I’m not bad at everything, but I don’t I have to be good at everything either. I can have lots and lots of eggs. Some of those eggs just might contain something wonderfully magical. Most of those eggs are going to be filled regular egg goo, but even those eggs will not be a waste.

I know how to make a lot of things with eggs.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Beans.

I’ve been trying to write this post of gratitude and all I can come up with is that I am grateful for beans.

When Michael and I came home from Vancouver, he decided that he was going to eat a specific meal plan and this has turned us into a fend-for-yourself household. I kind of love it because I get to go back to eating all the meals I would fix for myself in my single days, the kind of meals that when I tried to put them on the weekly menu, Michael would screw up his fast in disgust. Sunday night, I made a pot of purple hulled peas with stewed tomatoes and kale, Monday was pan-fried gnocchi with zucchini and cannellini beans, and Tuesday was a southwestern bowl of sweet potatoes, black beans, spinach and avocado. Every meal this week has featured a bean.

You might be thinking “Cindy..that’s a lot of beans. You must be very gassy.” I am not. My guts are feeling great.

These are the kind of meals that make me feel whole and grounded, meals that require a bit of meditation while preparing and only have to please me. Making the weekly menu has become so much easier. I don’t think I can express just how difficult it has been to sit down every week and create a meal plan that Michael will agree on. He might say that he is not a picky eater, but his words do not match his actions. Most of the meals I have suggested over the years have been met with a frown and a heavy sigh, followed up with a passive aggressive “I guess…”. He is not an easy person to please. I didn’t realize how stressful making the meal plan had become until this week when I’ve been able to eat beans every single day and not hear any one complain about it.

So…yeah…beans. I’m taking a moment to be grateful for beans.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I found an egg that was still warm to the touch and decided to sit on it in hopes that it might hatch. The thing is, I don’t know what kind of animal laid the egg in the first place. Will this hatch out something with feathers or scales or fur? Half of you read that and shook your heads while thinking “Oh, Cindy. Furry things don’t come from eggs.” Duck billed platypus. They’re the only mammals that lay eggs and freshly hatched babies are called puggles. How freaking adorable is that? I sure hope this egg is holding a puggle. It is more than likely that there is nothing viable inside this egg, but I’m staying on it anyway. It’s either going to start stinking, at which point I will get up and walk away or it’s going to hatch. Then I will be left to figure out how I’m going to raise whatever creature hatches. Maybe it’s a dragon! Maybe it’s a puggle with wings like a dragon.

It’s almost just as fun imaging what might be inside the egg.

Making the decision to sit on this egg was an impulsive one. The other day, I saw an add for tethered hot-air balloon rides and I immediately, without pausing, bought myself a ticket. I didn’t even think of buying two tickets. I knew Michael would not be interested. Heights are not his thing. Particularly being in a basket that is being lifted by a giant balloon is not his thing. I sent a text to Michael telling him what I had done and he replied that we had the kid this weekend. So I scrambled to get a second a ticket, but they had already sold out. Even though I have been waiting forty four years to ride in a hot-air balloon, I was willing to give my ticket to the Cabbage. As it turns out there was a schedule change. We don’t have the Cabbage and I am riding that balloon. Michael said he wouldn’t have let me give the ticket to the Cabbage anyway.

Both of these impulsive decisions are direct results from feeling my heart explode with a resounding “YES!” Roze told me recently that I am on the bus. She said to just stay on the bus. Now, I am all for a good touristy bus ride around a new city to get my bearings, but this bus ride is not one for tourists. It’s fast and furious and bumpy with a little bit of clutching hold of the seat for dear life. I almost want off the bus, but the thrill seeker in me is all “No…Roze is right. I need to stay on the bus.” So here I am making impulsive decisions and on the bus with my egg that may be filled with unfertilized goo or a puggle with dragon wings. And IT’S FREAKIN’ TERRIFYING! But also exhilarating.

It feels vaguely familiar. Like the difference between just existing and really living. That whole really living thing is something that I’ve either been forcing myself to do or not doing at all. It is a pre-loss feeling. I feel like I am leaning into the person I used to be. That right there is something I can truly be grateful for this week.

Thankful Friday

I have struggled to keep track of days and times ever since we got back from Vancouver. One day last week, I thought I had over slept so that I couldn’t take the dog for a walk. I jumped out of bed and rushed to get ready for work, but when I walked back into my room to get dressed, my clock read 6:20 AM. What it should have read was 7:20 AM. Not knowing what else to do, I finished getting dressed and I went to work. I repeatedly refer to the current day as the day before. This week, I arrived to an appointment an hour early truly believing I was ten minutes late. Michael has spent the last two weeks telling me what day it is and what day it will be tomorrow.

I have also gotten into a habit of not even taking a glance at the weather reports. Wednesday morning, I rode my scooter to work even though I could see dark clouds in the west. I just shrugged and figured they would move on and it was just going to be another typical hundred degree day. Instead, it rained and rained. At around three in the afternoon, Jeff checked the radar and said that now was the best time to get home without getting rained on. I raced home, feeling a few drops of rain hit my face and chest. I pulled Valerie into the garage and shut the garage door just as the downpour hit.

Time is just something I have stopped noticing while I focus on other things at the moment.

The earlier version of me would be really annoyed with myself for not being able to keep track of time. This version of me is only mildly anxious. I have meticulously put things on my calendar and my daily list appears on my desktop. I have reminders for appointments and Michael to remind me of what day it is. I am just organized enough to be able to know what’s happening and when. This is good enough for me. The gratitude here comes in the form of letting go. It’s like I am slowly popping off the restrictive rubber bands that I have wrapped around my own body. Each band represents some ridiculous rule I’ve made for myself.

And it feels really good to break those rules.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

This has been a big week for vulnerable moments. On top of the vague thing I did in the middle of week, I also submitted a photo to the New York Times in hopes that it will be featured on their Spelling Bee Forum page. Then a co-worker/friend asked me if they could have a photo or two to use in their presentation on the intersection of Art and Science at the Innovation Festival. After a moment of hysteria, I provided them with a small handful of photos to choose. Then the big vague thing contacted me and asked me to complete a few tasks and that is where I am today. I am in the rare position of wishing that the work week had an extra day to it. I think I will be spending a few hours with my laptop at a cafe somewhere this weekend.

There is a lot happening.

Rose sent out more information on Human Design and Split Definitions this week and there was one part that really hit home.

You naturally draw in people that bridge your split and spark collaborations

Once, a long time ago, Michael said something about I even know some of these people. He was referring to my friends, ones that I made here and those from before. At the time, I just shrugged and said “I collect interesting people.” Michael laughed at this and said that I should wear a button that says that. Since that conversation, I have added to my collection and what a wonderful collection it is. I realized this week that these are the people who are my bridges and sparkers. I feel you cheering me on and supporting me while I do the big vulnerable things.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I’ve hit a little bit of a writing wall. This is why you are not seeing anything new here this week. I’m leaving Sunday for a science conference and I’ve been spending a lot of energy looking over the program and making calendar notes for the sessions I want to attend. I have not attended a conference in person since December 2019 and I’m really excited to be going because online conferences are a struggle for me. I need to be in a room filled with people who are excited and fascinated with what other scientists are doing. This is where my brain space is right now, planning and packing.

The summer before I started my senior year of high school, I was away at so many different camps that I was only home for about two weeks before school started. There was a time when my summers were filled up with travel. As an adult, that shifted because I was no longer held to school time calendar, at least not until Michael came along. Summers are the only times he can travel and it seems like we fill up every summer with it. This one is no different. We’ve been to camp. We’ve spent time at a lake house. There’s a quick getaway planned in August to see Andrew Bird in St. Louis. Michael and the Cabbage are tagging along with me next week and playing tourists while I play science. I did schedule in some breaks from the conference for myself so that I can meet the two of them for dinner or lunch, as well as some tourist time of my own.

I’m grateful to be able to travel again for science reasons and I’m grateful that I can drag Michael and the Cabbage along. I am grateful for all the travel we get to do in the summer time, but I am aware of how all of my travel seems to be limited to this one season. So I am making plans to remedy this with some solo adventures. Solo adventures used to be a common, unquestionable thing that I did and not just after Chris died. We were both really good at the practice of JOMO. It is time that I allow myself to do these things again without worrying about hurting someone’s feelings by taking off without them.

Look at me, securing my own oxygen mask.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

“We haven’t had our anniversary dinner at Bella Napoli’s yet. Let’s go this week.” he said. He says this every year in June, the month we met. We are usually off on what the actual day was because we can never really remember. This year we were off by a few weeks. Michael had to look it up. He’s better at keeping track of these things, anniversaries and lengths of time. When he suggests Bella Napoli’s, I always think of the song for the opening credits of Parent Trap (the original one with Hailey Mills).

To set the bait, recreate the date, the first time cupid shot ‘em. - Richard M. Sherman/Robert B. Sherman

I met Michael at the restaurant Tuesday after work. He got there first and I parked my scooter next to his. He walked up as I was taking off my helmet and I immediately apologized for being late. I’d texted him telling him that I was leaving work in five minutes, but five minutes turned into fifteen. He leaned in to kiss me and said that he was worried and was just about to come looking for me. We went inside and were seated at a table with a view of the front door and patio. We ordered a bottle of wine to share and I people watched. This is a neighborhood place. People walk here from home and there is a diverse crowd of elderly couples mixed with young families. Small groups of teenagers sit outside, sharing pizzas.

I watched as the owner greeted familiar faces, asking how a trip was or when the grandkids were visiting. “How long has Bella Napoli’s been here?” I asked as I swirled the wine in my glass. Michael shrugged and answered “Twenty years?” Michael asked our waitress when she came back with our order of steamed mussels, telling her that we had been coming here for about nine years. She confirmed that Bella Napoli’s was a little over twenty years old. Later, when she brought us our check, she said “You guys have been coming here for nine years?” Michael told her that this was were we met on our first date. We watched as our waitress turned to goo and then exclaim “Oh my gosh! This was the place of your first date and you’ve been coming here for nine years?!? That’s so cool.”

It is a bit of a romantic story.

The last three years have not been easy. There have been moments when the words around ending things have rested on the very tip of my tongue. The space between our emotional and intellectual planes has felt too vast. Yet every time those words have rested on my tongue, I have refrained from speaking them out loud. I have paused to remind my self to find empathy and understanding. Next year is a contract renewal year and he has mentioned this a number of times. He ends his sentences with ‘if you want to renew the contract’. It is never if he wants it or if we want it. The renewing of the contract is all on me. My response to this is never with full confidence for a number of reasons. It shouldn’t just be my decision, but I suppose he wouldn’t bring it up if he wasn’t into renewing the contract. Recently, I rediscovered my voice and requested some changes, changes he immediately started working on. Those words no longer rest on the tip of my tongue and I am getting used to the sensation of that lifted weight.

He will jump through hoops to make this relationship work.

He will jump through hoops for me.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I did not know Amani or Sarah until last year. I didn’t know Erica or Jenn who live in my neighborhood, until last year. There is a really long list of people that I could write down here that I didn’t know or love until last year. Tavia and Xander. Abbi and Lucas. Roze. Rose (who did an amazing drawing of my singing bowl experience). Dee! Man, that woman will inspire you to get on the hiking trail. Jess and Jade, our lifeguards. Michelle or camp photographer. I’m afraid to continue listing names because I know I will leave someone out. We all met each other at Camp Wildling. One of my concerns about moving to KCMO was making new friends. How do you make new friends after the age of 30 particularly if you do not have children? There are 491,158 people living in this city. How do find the ones who get you and love you for being you?

You go to camp.

At opening ceremony for Camp Wildling, everyone is invited to place something on the alter we set up in the shala and you are encouraged to say a few words about the item. Things placed here represent what you hope to get out of camp or what you’d like to leave behind at camp. People place pictures, rocks, charms. All kinds of things. This year I placed the print that I had written a note on for Granny. I said that the picture represents two things. One is to never hesitate to send the note, to reach out and connect. The other thing the picture represents is the connections and relationships that can be formed at camp. I attended many different summer camps as a young person and I always made new friends. We would all end up being pen pals for a while, but eventually the connections would fade out. Remember your tween self for a moment, living in the age before internet and cell phones and imagine maintaining long distance friendships. Even with technology, it takes effort.

It’s worth the effort. More than worth it.

The friendships I have made through Camp Wildling are important to me. Not just because I have collected some really great people into my life, but because it helps me maintain and foster old friendships. When I send a message to Tania telling her how awesome she is and that plant she pointed out completely stopped my bug bite from itching, I am reminded to also send a message to Steph to ask about her trip to Mexico. There is a song we used to sing at 4-H summer camp. It is a simple one line song that we would sing in a round. It was usually the last campfire song of camp. It is my first lesson on the importance of connections and relationship.

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other’s gold.

It is not lost on me how fortunate I am to have such a group of fantastic people in my life or how important is to keep them in my life. Both the silver and the gold.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Yesterday, I pulled up a Harry Styles playlist on Amazon and had a fun, joyful and a bit silly yoga practice. There were dance breaks between surya namaskars. There were a number of surya namaskars that flowed along with the music. I laughed at myself and I smiled a whole lot. When it was time for savasana, I opened a guided meditation from Sarah Blondin entitled “You are Allowed”. I set myself up in supported fish and settled in, feeling my heart thumping at the base of my ears. As per usual, whenever I listen to a guided meditation, the words being spoken flow in out of my consciousness. I kind of pay attention to them and then I don’t and then I do and then I don’t. I had stopped paying attention to this meditation but then Sarah said something that brought me back with a jolt.

Can you remember when you stopped allowing yourself to feel? Can you remember when you began coping instead of laughing, can you remember to your one? What caused you to leave the seat of your heart?

Coping instead of laughing.

I think those are the words that smashed down the hardest on a nerve, though all of those words hit something. I know that in the last ten years, I have spent more time coping and less time laughing, but sometimes I laugh in order to cope. I know in the last ten years, I have spent more time purposefully not feeling. I know what caused me to leave the seat of my heart. I know that the seat of my heart is forever changed and settling into that space is not as comfortable as it once was. It is like how I am still struggling to find my comfortable seated position after tearing my ACL. I just can’t seem to sit still and be comfortable for long periods of time. While I have been working and stretching within my yoga practice to get back to a comfortable seated position, I have done nothing to make the seat of my heart a more comfortable space or even an inviting space.

How can I rearrange to make the seat of my heart a more comfortable space?

Don't talk to me now, I'm molting
Don't tell me that it's revolting
Every inch of us
Every inch of us
Every inch of us, a walking miracle

-Andrew Bird, Inside Problems

Every inch of is a walking miracle. We can do more than just cope. I can do more than just cope. It might be time for some molting, shedding some things that no longer serve me or give me comfort. The seat of my heart does not have to be plush. It only has to be comfortable enough to spend some amount of time there.

Summer projects.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

For some of us the concept of joy is illusive. I was having a serious conversation recently with someone who said to me “I don’t think I even know what joy looks like.” I’ve been thinking about this for days because I have seen this person laugh and smile with authentic joy. Yet, that very same person doesn’t know what joy looks like. Joy did not become an illusive thing for me until after J’s death. In the days, weeks and months after J’s death, I felt nothing at all. I did not know what joy looked like, but I also didn’t know what any emotion looked like. My ability to process any kind of emotion was shut down like an old computer. It took me longer than it should have to realize that I was feeling numb, but I was fortunate enough to have a partner who was supportive. Chris was a great support, but besides being patient and supportive, Chris was a master at seeking out joy. I believe he became a master at seeking out joy because he learned way before we even met that joy is illusive. It took time and effort to bring myself back from the void of nothing and I really feel it would have been impossible if not for Chris.

Here are some activities that helped me cultivate joy in my daily life: gratitude practice, photography projects, scooter rides, my yoga practice, teaching my yoga practice. Of all of these practices, I will say that my gratitude practice and my photography projects have been the most important activities. Joy is not only illusive, but it is a master of disguise. It can hide in the tiniest, strangest of places. Joy can be right in front of your face and so well disguised that you don’t see it. But I also think we have this disillusionment or predisposed idea of what joy should look like, that makes it easier for real joy to disguise itself. We don’t know what joy looks because we are bombarded with contradicting voices telling us about the things we are supposed to need to be joyful or how we must look in order to be joyful. In the quest to have the thing or look the look, we lose sight of what joy really looks like. Both the gratitude practice and the daily photo project helped me to recognize when I was looking at a moment of joy.

Your brain has to be trained to see joyful moments.

If you watch TV, spend time on the internet, read the news…you know, the things we all do every day… you will not see that there is much to be joyful about. If you are passively waiting for joy to jump out of its hiding space and yell out “I’m Here!”, you should be prepared to wait and wait and wait. Joyful moments, at first, need to be actively sought out. It is only after you learn to recognize joy, that joyful moments be can be spontaneous moments. My joy this week has been found in the moments I have been able to walk outside in between rain storms. It is seeing Josephine recovering well from dental surgery this week. I have found joy in teaching my yoga classes this week and seeing new faces in those classes. Joy has been present in the moments when I have truly helped someone with their science on a microscope. I had some good writing time this week, which doesn’t always fill me with joy, but there is joy in making progress. The last two weeks have been hard. Really fucking hard. Not just for me, but for all of us. Joy is wearing its best camouflage right now and you’ve got to look really hard to see it.

But it’s there.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

List of US Senators who have taken the most amount of money in campaign donations from the NRA can be found here: https://www.opensecrets.org/orgs/national-rifle-assn/recipients?id=d000000082

Calling, texting, emailing your senators daily or at least weekly. Tell them to prove their claims of ‘pro-life’ by actually doing something to protect life. Tell them how embarrassing it is that this country is number one in deaths from gun violence in all of the first world countries.

You can support victims of gun violence by donating and or volunteering with Every Town, a non for profit group working for reform on all levels and providing mental health resources to families affected by gun violence.

Change will not come by posting memes on social media. Change will not come by raising our voices in protest. Thoughts and prayers are not going to solve this. Ever. The fight is in supporting candidates who will prioritize the health of the people of this country. The fight is ensuring that every American has easy access to voting. The fight is at EVERY election.

Vote like a parent who had to wait for DNA results to identify their child who was killed by a mass shooter.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

There has been a lot of conversations this week that has centered around time, particularly the passage of time. I have heard parents lamenting on children graduating from kindergarten and those lamenting children graduating from high school. “How can our babies be old enough for this?!?” It is how we talked about Cati graduating. It was how a woman talked about her son graduating kindergarten as we stood in the coffee line together. At times, this whole aging and time passage thing seems unfathomable to us. For me, it is just the passage of time itself that bewilders me. I mean, I can’t keep up what is happening to the month of May and how there is only a week left of it.

This week I had the opportunity to teach a lesson on meditation, just a simple format for getting started. One of the things I like to do for this class is to start with everyone sitting quietly with their eyes closed. I tell them to open their eyes when they think five minutes has passed. There are those who last seconds before opening their eyes. Then there are those who almost make it, but not without lots of fidgeting. It is rare that someone makes it the whole five minutes without movement. I follow up this exercise with some tips on making a meditation practice easier. Things like committing to a time everyday and making a nest so that you can sit comfortably. I have them do five to ten rounds of alternate nostril breathing and then twelve to twenty four rounds of a mantra of their choosing, guiding them to count by pressing their thumb into each digit. That tactile sensation helps keep the focus on what you are doing and something you can always come back to during your practice.

During the moments of stillness, no alternate nostril breathing, no mantra, the part of the practice where you’re just sitting still, those are the moments where you can choose the speed for the passage of time. Albert Einstein showed that the speed of light in a vacuum is the same no matter the speed the observer is traveling. Time and how we perceive time is relative and today, I am choosing to slow down time. That means stopping to savor the moment before mindfully moving on to the next thing. I am doing this in practice today because I have a lot on the calendar for this summer. I have a lot of really good things on the calendar, things I want to marinate in.

I want to be ready for marinating.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

On one of our morning walks this week, I noticed a snail slowly making its way across the sidewalk. And since I find snails to be fascinating and my muse, I paused to take some pictures. I was snapping away when a small dried flower petal flew into the snail’s face. I thought at first that the snail would be pleased by this because I thought it might consider the petal to be food. Instead, the snail reared its head back and forth in obvious displeasure. Then it started to move the petal down out of its face and climb over it with its body. The snail made such a large and almost over exaggerated movement to get its body over this tiny bit of flower debri.

Later on, I was teaching my chair yoga class where I had my students stretch their arms over head and pretend to press their palms into the ceiling. Then I had them pull one finger in at a time until they made a fist. I had them squeeze for a breath before releasing and then repeating the exercise. One of my students, Melissa, made a face and said “Why do I hate this so much? It seems like such a simple task!” I laughed and agreed. It did seem like a really simple exercise, but it turned out to be something rather difficult. No one in my class that day enjoyed this exercise. Then I told my class about the snail. Just because a task might be easy for you, doesn’t mean that it’s easy for everyone. But also, the looks of a task can be deceitful. The lesson this snail teaches me is to have greater patience for others as well as for myself. Because even though a task or obstacle might actually be simple, it still requires some energy and we’ve all been in that place where we just don’t have that energy to spare.

It’s all about perspective.

Snails have a lot to teach us about how we approach obstacles and slowing down to be mindful in the tackling of that obstacle.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

When I left from teaching my yoga class on Wednesday, it was though a small octagon shaped prism had been placed in the lens of my left eyeball. Then the headache started just above my right eye. By the time I got home the prism was gone, but the right side of my head ached in an old forgotten way. Migraine. It has been years since I’ve had one of those. Like maybe not since 2009 when I gave up meat. I spent the next day recovering and marveling at the power of stress and the toll it takes on the body. Then I started laughing at every time I have rolled my eyes at comments regarding moods and celestial bodies.

I will confess that I have been on autopilot for a few weeks. I get up, exercise, walk the dog, feed the animals, shower, get dressed, give Josephine two treats, set the alarm and then head to work. And even those morning when my body is filled with lead weights, I force myself up and about. I’m just so tired all of the time, but I keep on with the same routine until I completely collapse. I haven’t looked at my color coded calendar or made any adjustments in weeks. I have a whole list of things I haven’t done in weeks, like write or do any research reading for the book. It’s not that I have stalled out. I’m just doing the basic things required to keep myself alive. This month is busy. Next month, we go to Camp Wildling. The month after that, Michael and Phenix are tagging along with me to a conference in Vancouver. The month after that, Michael and I are making a tiny trip to St. Louis to see ANdrew Bird in concert. I need to get my things together for camp. I need to make arrangements for Vancouver. I need to find boarding for Josephine. Oh! Josephine is going in for a tooth cleaning and possible removal of a broken tooth. So…I’m already worried about that and it’s weeks away.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month and there’s nothing like going blind in one eye to make one realize that maybe it’s time to check in with one’s self. This weekend, I’m going to spend some time with my calendar and see what I can dump or rearrange. Maybe I don’t need to get up at 5 AM every morning. Maybe that 5 AM activity can be moved to some other time of the day. Maybe instead of 5 AM exercise, I need to carve out some 5 AM writing time. I think it is also time to reevaluate my food menu. I feel the need to move back into smoothie land with lots of greens, berries and maybe some walnuts. Really, I’m just craving giant bowls of green stuff. And a potato. While I’m thinking about it, it is also time to make an appointment with my doctor for general checkup and a discussion of what is going on with my body.

Today, I am grateful for being able to see clearly out of my left eye.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I am obsessed with this picture I took last week. I just sit and stare at it and try to count all the dew drops. My favorite part is that tiny line of spider webbing that stretches across the top of the tulip, decorated with teeny drops of water. It’s like a string of lights around a backyard patio or a spectacular circus show of tightrope walkers. There is a whole universe here where the bloom is the sun and dewdrops are the planets. And because I have looked at things under microscopic lenses, I know that many of those dewdrops contain life. It is equal parts fascinating and overwhelming.

The opening scene in Contact begins with close up view of a receiving dish somewhere on Earth. Then the camera pans out. You watch the dish get smaller and disappear as the scene continues to zoom out and out. The scene moves out and the Earth becomes tiny and then the solar system gets tiny. It zooms out past our universe and leaves us staring at the vastness of space. When I saw this movie in the theater, this scene almost made me fall out of my chair. My chest grew tight and I struggled to breath. The emptiness and vastness was too much for me to mentally handle. In fact, writing about it now makes me slightly breathless. Yet the opposite, the zooming in on stuff, fills me awe.

It is all the same thing.

The tulip in this picture is a galaxy in the universe of this garden. Our bodies are walking galaxies in our universe of communities. It just goes on and on and it is complicated. The more you ponder this, the more complicated it becomes. I like to hold a magnifying glass up to life because it feels less complex. It is my way of simplifying the infinite galaxies. The vastness of this life is untethering, but these small little galaxies right here in our own backyards, make me grounded and present. Today I am grateful for small galaxies.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Wednesday morning, the alarm clock went off at 5:10 AM. I rolled over, stopped the alarm and then layed in bed for a few minutes trying to decide if I was actually going to get up. It took me a few minutes to guilt myself into crawling out of bed and donning my workout clothes. I reluctantly did a twenty five minute Asana Rebel exercise and then I put my shoes on to take Josephine for a walk. As soon as I start pulling my gym shoes out of the closet, Josephine goes berserk. Then I get her lead and harness out and lay it on the bed and she hops on and off the bed twenty times. Then she attacks me while I’m trying to tie my shoes. Once the leash and harness are secured, she turns her head around and bites down on part of the lead so she can use it to lead me to the door.

She’s the boss.

Josephine loves loves loves her walks and I feel real guilt for times I skip these walks on days when the weather is cooperating. As we made our way back from the park Wednesday morning, I heard the loudest bird song. I figured that the bird was somewhere in a tree on the same block we were on, but it was so loud that it sounded like it was right above us. I looked up into a small tree on my right and there was the tiniest bird tweeting the loudest song. It was not a bad song. It was rather lovely, actually, but it was surprisingly loud.

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs. -The Be Good Tanyas

Later on, I did an internet hunt for this little bird. It was a tufted titmouse, a small bird that looks like a miniature cardinal. Also, it’s a fun name to say out loud. This is something I would have missed if I had decided to not guilt myself out of bed. The early morning is magic hour. The streets are quiet and dark and all the night time animals are on the move to get to their beds before sunup. We see possums and the occasional racoon. Just last week, an owl swooped down just over our heads as it made its way to tall tree. There is life in my neighborhood that can only be seen in these early hours. Sometimes, I don’t allow guilt to pull me out of bed. I give myself the rest my body seems to be craving and there are mornings where I don’t need the guilt trip to get me up and about. But on those days where I really have to talk myself into getting up, I don’t regret it.

The early morning hours are a gift.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I have worked late three days this week and will be working late again this evening. My job has taken up the majority of my mental space. The leftover mental space has spent one day fretting about the gas light on my car, pondering the idea of taking a day off from work to clean out my house, and dealing with Bass Pro customer service regarding a birthday gift card that my brother never received. All of this has left little mental space for writing here.

Despite how busy I have been with all of the science, this week has been a really good week. I have done a thirty minute exercise class every day. Josephine and I have walked every day except for one because of rain. I’ve eaten lots and lots of green vegetables and I have been drinking plenty of water. There have been profound yoga moments and yoga teacher high moments. On Thursday, I was able to break away from work to meet my friend Shruti for lunch. It is a rare treat for me to leave the building to meet someone outside of work for lunch. I love my group and I thoroughly enjoy going out for lab lunches, but I need to socialize outside of work sometimes.

Easter is a holiday that is full of memories that prickle. Those memories are filled with moments of when my family was whole. Recently, a friend of mine retweeted a tweet about someone looking at their childhood home in Google Street View. In the moment the image was taken, there was light on in one of the bedrooms and the person said that they could imagine their mother sitting on the bed in that room. I was so struck by this imagery that I went to Google maps and looked up my childhood home. I have not been by the place since my mother sold it when Dad was put in the VA home. The street view in Google maps was taken before Chris got sick, before we knew that Dad was not well. The antique milk jug holding up a street sign that read “Graham St.” is still marking the end of the driveway. The pictures were taken in what looks like late Spring. I say this because Mom’s azalea bush is in bloom, but her irises look like they have already bloomed and died off.

The steps of what was always referred to as the main front door, a door we rarely ever used, was the place were all of us would gather for family photos. Every Easter. Every graduation. Every monumental moment. We stood in layers on the steps while Randy set up his tripod and camera. As I see those pictures in my head right now, they play through the years and I can see my family grow and shrink with time and it is enough to make my heart crack open. There was a moment in time when all of us, every single one of us, were gathered on those front steps. So I look at the Google street view and burn the image of those steps into my brain. Then I close my eyes and I overlay that image with that moment.

I am thankful for the memory of the time my family was whole.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

The transition from Winter to Spring is tumultuous in my neck of the woods. There are signs of Spring by mid-March, but then everything seems to go into a holding pattern for weeks while we jump back and forth between 70 degrees and just above freezing temperatures. The greens of the tulips I have planted in my front yard have been up and out of the ground for weeks and weeks now. Some of them look like they’ve been chewed on. The same could be said for the tulips they plant in the gardens at work. The green parts have been out of the ground for ages without any hint of a bud. I have seen this all over the city with the tulips. Even the redbuds have had tiny purple or white egg shaped buds on them for week without actually blooming. The tips of the tree branches have little swirls of red or green that just might unfurl into leaves.

I thought that maybe my tulips just wouldn’t bloom. They are old bulbs and I have been told by the gardeners at work that I really should replant every three years. They replant the tulips bulbs at work every Fall. I feel like I was doing well to plant the bulbs years ago in the first place. I am surprised every year when they pop up out of the ground. It is the same feeling I have whenever I discover eggs in the chicken coop. I found four eggs in there the other day, with Margarette hovering over them because most of them were her’s. That same day, I was walking outside at work and noticed that there were flower buds nestled inside each green swirl of leaves. These were joyful moments indeed, but when I noticed that my very own tulips also had buds, my heart leaped.

Moving from Winter to Spring is a practice in patience and humility. I always think of myself as a very patient person. Yet, the time between Winter and Spring strains my patience to the thinnest when I want everything to be in bloom with consistent days of warmth. I should not have to wear my winter coat to work in April. Some times, when I am driving to a new destination, I get slightly anxious about turning on the right street. I always get the feeling that I’ve missed the street but the reality is always that I didn’t drive far enough. This was something Chris and I would laugh and joke about. It’s always further than you think. Moving into Spring is just like this except instead of driving, I am waiting. Seeing the buds on the tulips this week just tells me that we’re close. We haven’t missed it. We just haven’t waited long enough.

Drive a little further.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

There is the slightest hint of color reflecting off all the gray, dead looking trees outside. The greens of this year’s tulips have been up and out of the ground for weeks. The daffodils and hyacinths have all bloomed and the tulip trees are blooming. Most days are still uncomfortably chilly, but about once a week we get a warm and sunny day to remind us that Winter doesn’t last forever. That was Tuesday this week. The rest of the week was rainy, even snowy at times, and gross. But Tuesday? Tuesday was scooter weather. Tuesday I rode my scooter to work with a grin on my face. Then I rode my scooter to my chiropractic appointment at lunch time. From there, I almost did not go back to work because I was tempted to spend the rest of the day, zipping around the city with no destination in mind.

I haven’t said much about my new scooter, Valerie. I think there has been a part of me that has been holding back on fully embracing a new scooter. I was heartbroken over the loss of V. Devastated. I went to a real dark place. The only Vespa dealership in Kansas City is not my favorite place due to it’s misogynistic environment. The fun of shopping was diminished. I wasn’t buying a new scooter for the fun of it, because it was time and I deserved something new and shiny. I am going to admit that for the tiniest breath of a moment, I considered the idea of not replacing V. In that moment, I thought that maybe I was over the whole scooter thing and if I wanted two wheels, I’d just ride my bicycle. Even after the new scooter arrived, I was a bit hesitant to ride. It’s not that Valerie is so much different from V, but turn the signal buttons and the horn button aren’t quite in the same spots. I have to rewire my muscle memories and I’ve honked my horn a number of times while attempting to use my turn signal.

A shift in my feelings towards Valerie began when I finally put the rack and windshield on her, along with a permanent tag. I have yet to install the front rack and after watching a YouTube video on how to do so, I decided that I would not be installing the front rack. It involves a drill and drill bits. This feels like a job for someone more qualified than I. As it is, Valerie is now as decked out as V was, minus a few stickers. I’m on the hunt for a replacement Princess Leia sticker, but I did put a lovely rainbow ‘fuck fascism’ sticker on one side. Tuesday, as I rode to work, my heart swelled up with joy and that is when it truly hit me. It doesn’t matter what color, make or model of the Vespa. All that matters is that it is a candy colored, L-shaped swoosh of metal on two wheels and that it is zippy. My friend Sarah saw me leaving the parking garage for my chiropractor and when I came back she told me that I looked so chic. This is exactly the image I have of myself on any scooter. It’s how I felt when riding my old scooter and that feeling hasn’t changed with the new one.

I’m really thankful that I did not let that tiniest breath of a moment be longer than a tiniest breath.