And Then Again Begin...

Matthew Arnold wrote a poem once called "Dover Beach."  It too, is on my list of favorites.  The last stanza is:

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.


The poem is stunningly beautiful in its lyricism.  The lines:

Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin...
I suppose some would consider the poem as a whole rather depressing, and that could be true.  There is a sort of eternal hopelessness about the human condition, for which faithful love is the only remedy, as Matt points out.

Some people really can tap into that sense of the "ebb and flow of human misery."  Life itself is an ebb and flow of happiness and sadness and intimacy and remoteness and hurting and healing and breathing in and breathing out.

Still, I think it is true, in the sense that without Love, is there really any point to whatever our daily tasks are?

So, when I think about this poem, I think, what if Matt was talking to God?

I know I feel God's presence most acutely at night in my superdark back yard, counting stars and cuddling Roxy (who does not like curling up on rocks, go figure!) and there have been some particular times when I've sat on a rock in New Mexico somewhere along the Jemez Trail or on the shores of Lake Michigan (much like an ocean if you've never been there) or even just hanging out on the Newburgh Dam on the Ohio River where I grew up, watching the water and listening to the sounds the world makes when we stop to hear them, that I have had these wordless conversations, heart to heart, with the One who is faithful love itself.

...and we are here as on a darkling plain...  He is right here, with me -with US- in the confusion and fear and noisiness of the world in which we live.

Let us be true to one another.

To Be or Not to Be

As most everyone who has taken a high school course in English lit knows, the famous "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy from Shakespeare's Hamlet is an extensive pondering of suicide.

"To be or not to be, that is the question..." Live or not live?

It has some of the most beautiful language, IMHO, in literature.

"Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action."  Most lovely way to say he chickened out of suicide.  (Personally, I do not see it as chickening out, but Hamlet did, and in this circumstance, we are allowed into a mind slowly going mad.  He dies at the end anyway, along with eveyone else, just about)

Sylvia Plath's Daddy is a stark descent into madness, mentioning a suicide attempt:

...I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said, I do, I do...

Lest you think I'm obsessing over suicide, really, I just entertain myself by memorizing poetry so I can think about it later.  It's also a fun party trick (well, at least at the parties I go to!) when someone says, "Oh, man, there's this poem, and I can't think of anything except, it's about carrying a heart" and I'm all, "YES!  ee cummings!" and launch into: 

I carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling) ..."


Honestly, I rarely pass by an opportunity to show off this skill.

Picking a favorite poem is like picking a favorite child, but this next one is speaking to me a bit today.  Waaaaaay back in days of yore, when I was in college, I had this guy friend who, during a dark period of my life, made it his mission to teach me how to lighten the hell up.  He taught me how to play quarters, that being late to class never killed anybody, and no matter how crazy life can seem, it is an uncontrollable beauty.

He slipped this to me in class one day:


My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing

Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.

Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers' terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before red apopleptic streetcars—
Misfit in any space. And never on time.

A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease;
In traffic of wit expertly maneuver
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.

Forgetting your coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gaily in love's unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.

Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses—
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.

by JF. Nims

Two 75 Pound Dumb Bells

I had a whole blog written about caffeine withdrawal.  Then I wrote another one about women and weightlifting.  I'm saving those for another day.  My mind got blown.

Today was a lifting day, so I did my workout, and CRUSHED IT.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy benching 150 pounds.  I idly thought, wow, that's about how much weight I've lost.

Then, since I was wrapping up my workout, I decided to pick up two 75# dumb bells and just walk around the room with them.  You know, just to see what would happen.

I felt like I would die.

Soooooo HEAVY.

I mean, I didn't just pick them up and set them down.  I picked them up and walked (really, wobbled) around the room.  I'm sure the other folks were wondering a bit about what new workout I was attempting.

And I carried that much extra weight for YEARS.  YEARS!!  (Granted, it was more evenly distributed, but still...!)  I danced, hiked, walked, traveled and in general lived my life carrying another human being around on me.

Damn.  I'm more awesome than I thought!

I barely got the weights back on the rack, and stood there for a moment.

All the little things about losing weight came together in one moment.  Fitting better into plane seats, buying clothes almost anywhere I want to, getting crazy strong, hiking far and fast, joining in on 5K races -all of it condensed into two 75 pound dumb bells.

Wow.

Listening to Your Body

Part of this whole being healthier thing means listening to your body.  It can be hard to tell when to push through a wall, or know that, well, today, the best thing to do is rest.

Sometimes your body doesn't give you a choice.  Injuries, illness, scheduling and various other obstacles collude and then whatever choice you have is made for you.

I've been learning a lot about listening to my body this past year.  The asthma I struggle with won a few battles and now I know that I cannot power through an asthma attack.  My lungs WILL be respected!  When my back went out in a truly epic way over the holiday break, I learned that it, too, has limits that must be respected.  Now that I'm sporting an ulcer, I am learning that food choices are fairly easy to make when poor choices make themselves immediately known.

BTW, in case no one has ever mentioned it to you, Aleve is meant to be taken for a few days only.  Popping it regularly over a 3+ month period pretty much will guarantee you some stomach problems.  Fortunately, if you take care of them, ulcers heal.

I was pretty nauseated for much of the day yesterday, but managed to get back to Flag before I became truly ill.  By the time I crawled into bed, about 9PM, I was shaking and miserable.  I slept okay, but when the 5AM alarm sounded, I took a quick assessment and realized that working out would not be an option today.  It isn't that I couldn't power through.  I've powered through worse.  I just knew it wasn't the right thing.

I felt a flash of guilt.  I mean, I work out every single day. So today was my off day.  My body was screaming for more sleep, evidenced by the fact I fell asleep seconds after resetting the alarm to give me another hour and a half.

By the time I left for work, I was still not 100%, but infinitely better than I would have been if I had just powered through.

balance, balance, balance.

Bad Air/ Good Air, Just Show Up

Since we are being inundated with information and emotion about the Boston Marathon bombings, I'm skipping that topic for now.

As I walked out of my house today to dusty, smoky, 45 mph winds, I immediately felt frustration rise in my throat and my chest start to tighten.  I was on my way to the gym, and this air, combined with this altitude, promised me a morning of tears.

I almost went back inside, but plugged along to the gym, put my stuff in my locker and headed into the cardio-yoga-killmenow class, sucking on my inhaler, knowing it was going to be just like last week -5 minutes in and a full blown asthma attack.

SO, as I took a deep breath, I decided even if all I could do was sway back and forth rhythmically to the music, I was going to stick out the whole class.

The teacher was glad to see me and VERY glad to see I'd remembered my inhaler.  She said I'd already won by just showing up, and to do what I could.

So I felt all the tense muscles relax a bit, remembering that everyone else in the class is really nice and not particularly judgemental.

and I SLAMMED the class. Slammed it.  Okay, I wasn't doing level 3 movements (meaning putting air between you and the floor on the jumps) but I did way better than I assumed and did not once have an irrepressible urge to run out the door crying.  This is a big plus.

I showed up.  I did my best. My best, against all odds, turned out to be pretty good.

When Food Isn't Just Food

So, food.

I really did used to think that I would be a better person (read, skinnier!) if I just didn't have to eat. Insane, right? I wish I was the only person struggling with that particular insanity, but I'm not. Loads of us feel this way.

You know what? God created us to need food. This means, GOD wants us to eat! And God created food so that it isn't just for fuel, but has bonding properties, healing properties, and emotional and mental effects.

I sometimes think that God created food and the need for it to help us learn balance in a really concrete way. Eat too much, you become unhealthy. Eat too little, you become unhealthy. Eat all of one thing, you become unhealthy. Use food to solve not-food problems, you become unhealthy. Use something besides food to solve a food problem, you become unhealthy. Eat unreal food too much, you become unhealthy.

It is all about proper place and perspective. Being REAL. Paying attention.

So, upon discovering I have an ulcer, I received meds, instructions and an admonition to meditate and reduce stress. Awesome.  Foodwise, this means no caffeine, limit dairy, no alcohol and limit fried food.  Oh, and stop the daily intake of ibuprofen.  Well, I don't eat fried food often, so that is easy enough. I don't drink much, so that's the easiest thing on the list.  But I LOVE MY DAIRY PRODUCTS and NEED MY CAFFEINE.

Under normal circumstances, this probably would not have been any kind of a big deal.  But I had a super spectacularly stressful week last week, and by the time the weekend came, I really just wanted to curl up with a couple pints of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Peppermint Crunch and pretend I was in a coma.

I did do a bit of that.  My trainer politely reminded me that icecream will not help me achieve my goals.  I think I might have glared at him.  I don't remember.  I was thinking about icecream.

Because even though I KNEW eating icecream would make my stomach hurt, probably make me throw up, and certainly would not help me achieve the goals I myself chose and committed to... I still wanted it.

I did not want it because it is super healthy like a green shake.  I did not want it because my body was craving something calorically dense.  I wanted it because I was sad and tired and it tastes really good and makes me feel better in a comfort-food sort of sense.

I thought, hey, one spoonful isn't a big deal.  And it wouldn't have been, if I had stopped there.  Of course, I didn't.

For about a half hour, everything was fine.  Then my stomach reminded me that really, truly, icecream and an ulcer don't mix.  So I spent the rest of the day feeling rather green and irritated with myself.  I wasn't worried about an over-consumption of calories (throwing up every day, a couple times some days, more than took care of that worry!)  I just took a hard look at my food choices the past couple weeks and realized that for the most part, I really had been basing my choices more on my emotional state than what my body really needed, especially given the pretty low caloric intake.

I got off balance.

So, when a really demanding week -mentally, emotionally, physically demanding- required more of me, I was simply not able to give it.  My reserves were dry.  Instead of solving the mental and emotional challenges with what I REALLY needed (quiet space, praying, being with friends, deep breathing) I was leaning on food.  Instead of solving my physical issues with healthy food, I was leaning on sweets, hoping the damage wouldn't be too painful.  The resulting exhaustion meant a shorter temper, longer crying jags, and eventually that overwhelmed feeling when simply leaving the house seemed to be too much to face.

I'm not beating myself up over it.  It's not like I've engaged in selling drugs or human trafficking.  It is about being aware, being present to my own self.  It isn't even about weight.

It is about being real.  Being honest.

I normally track my food intake and exercise every single day.  I actually eat really healthy when I'm being my normal self.  I haven't tracked in a couple weeks, and when I am being painfully honest, I know it is because I did not want to see in writing the choices I was making... not the one-in-a-while treats that I write down almost gleefully, but the daily "this one won't hurt..." that become two or three or so.

So, it was with a bit of quiet resolve I pulled out that lovely owl-adorned notebook, and made my first notations in two weeks on it:  6AM, green shake.  8:30, string cheese, apple.  Wrote down the slammin workout from this morning.

Took a deep breath, smiled at myself and said, no worries. 

Real. Honest. Balanced.

Little Joyful Things

I feel that it is when you most feel like total "fertilizer" that you need to step back and think about your abundant blessings.

Well, I do anyway.

So, setting aside my foul mood, nausea, tiredness, pain and angst, I am praising GOD for the many, many blessings He pours on my head every single day!  A short list:

1. I can physically do everything I want to do on a daily basis.  I can walk, run, tie my shoelaces, sit at a computer, smile, do my own hair, talk to everyone and hear their responses.

2. I have access to first-world medical care for those times I struggle with #1.

3.  I can read.  THANK YOU GOD!

4.  I have choices of abundant food.  I have access to anything I desire to eat, wear or use. I lack for nothing.

5. I have beautiful, kind and loving friends and family who believe in me and support my life decisions.

6.  I have job I really enjoy that pays me well.

7.  My co-workers ROCK!

8.  I live in a part of the globe that people from all over the world travel to see and experience.

9.  I have a neurotic little dog who is one of my best friends.

10.  I am blessed by a loving and caring God who really does think of me as one of His favorites!  :-)  He is especially fond of me.

Recognizing my blessings doesn't take away my physical pain, or a whole lot of angst, but it DOES remind me that in my self-centered focus on problems, I forget to see all the things that make life joyful and worth the effort.

Because it is.

Strange Days

Strangest week.  Pulling myself out of bed every morning to get to the gym has required a strength of mind usually reserved for attacking the Great Wall of China or crossing the Alps.

It doesn't help that this nausea thing has expanded to include pretty much every time I eat.  Travelers on I-17 North yesterday were treated to a lovely sight of me losing lunch by the side of the road.  I barely made it to the restroom this morning at Wildflower before my $7 eggs-and-toast made a reappearance.  I've halved my morning green shake and sip it very slowly with lots of time between sips.

Apparently, my stomach of iron is corroding.  I suspect an ulcer, but I will hopefully get some relief from going to the doctor later this morning for her insight.

Due to poor planning and procrastinating from discontent on my part, by the time I arrived at the gym this morning, I had about 20 minutes to get in a workout.  20 minutes means core!  Yay abs!  There were a lot of scary guys in the weight room, and not feeling my usual chipper self and a bit self-conscious that I would throw up in front of them, I just went straight to the stretching mats and did my thing there.

My frustration with myself turned into delight that I actually showed up and did something worthwhile.

How?  I just decided that dwelling on it didn't help.  And I had breakfast with my dear Lori this morning, and she is ACES at reminding me that everything really is okay, and everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes, and she is totally okay with the crying thing.  (sobbing and saying, "really, everything is fine!" does seem a bit incongruous in hindsight.)

Except everything IS fine, and sometimes, it is okay to be human and tired and sad and not sure where to turn or what to do.  And someone holding your hand and saying, "It really will be okay" makes it feel that yes, it really will be okay.

Wintery Spring

I've had a lot of swirly thoughts lately.  I'm on my way to a funeral in a few minutes, and so this inevitably makes me think about death and other funerals and what it means to be part of a community or a family.

Most of a relationship, I truly believe, lies simply in showing up... you show up for the big events and little events and times when someone needs you and times when you just want to hang out with them.  You never have enough time in your life to develop proper relationships, so you have to MAKE time.  If you spend more time on Face Book than actually talking to other people, maybe there is a good way to get some extra time in your day.

I had an epically bad date the other night and of course I had to make fun of it and try to make sense of it all.  One thing I am aware of that really points out the sea change of the last two years... Two years ago, I would have spent the entire evening with this lout, trying to "fix" the situation, wondering what I was doing wrong, trying to MAKE him like me!  That night, a few minutes in, as the sensation of drowning was beginning to overtake me, I simply thought, "This guy is horrid company, how do I get out of here without being so rude I later feel bad about myself?"

In a way, that is kind of how I am learning to approach many relationships:  It is not up to me to fix other people, or their lives or situations... and I certainly don't need everyone to like me any more.  (I still prefer it that way, but no longer spend time in angst wondering how to change someone's attitude toward me.)

It has been a very strange week with a lot of pulling in different directions.  It has been a bit of wintery spring, and not just because of the cold, gray skies and bit of snow.

Screenplay

I am now the possessor of so many bad first dates that I can write a screenplay.  In fact, instead of writing it from the perspective of the hapless victim, I believe I shall write it from the point of view of the Bad Date himself, an amalgam of:

The guy last night who seemed dripping with negativity;
The guy a couple years ago who kept staring at my chest and after 45 minutes asked me back to his place;
The guy who kept repeating, "You are so beautiful, really, so beautiful, I don't even care that you are chubby!"
The guy who had a smile like a serial killer;
The guy who shared he smoked weed like he was a member of a reggae band and wondered if that would be okay with me;
The God-bashing atheist;
The guy who said I remind him of his mom;
The guy who said I remind him of his ex;
The guy who sent his "wing man" in to check me out before he came in to introduce himself;
The guy with horrible table manners -and a beard;
The guy who, when we hugged goodbye, literally picked me up;
The 30-something still living with his parents and saving up to buy a car;
The guy who ordered food like a bitchy little cheerleader;
A couple of guys who were simply rude to the server at the restaurant;
The guy who complained about how big the portions are at the restaurant and said, "You know, we can ask for boxes right now and put half of it away so we aren't tempted!"
The guy who showed me photos of his paintings, all of which depicted some sort of violent act;
The guy who shared freely his idiot opinion that all pro-life people are idiots who don't understand science; (And I asked him if he would like to meet all the pro-life scientists in my family..?)
The guy who never blinked;
The guy who shared he was into S&M and asked if I wanted to see his "toybox;" (I excused myself from the table, went out the back door, ran to my car and drove straight to a friend's house to spend the night.)
The guy who shared he was not, umm, "well-endowed" but that he makes up for it with his creativity;
The guy who pointed out that pancakes for breakfast aren't very healthy and maybe I ought to order something else -and that I ate a lot for a girl. (Although, to be fair, I told him to suck it, and we ended up dating for 4 years. He made a bad first impression, but he was actually a very nice guy who needed better social skills.  By the time I was done with him, he had them.)


This is why I keep small bills in my wallet when I go out on a blind date.  It enables me to quickly count out my share of the tab and tip and exit quickly.

To be fair, I have been on quite a few lovely first dates as well, but who cares about those?  No humor there!

In the past four years I have been in Flagstaff, I have been in a dating wasteland.

I had made the quiet decision before I ever even met Mr. Negativity that I was done dating in Flagstaff.  The only reason I went through with it was because it was in the works before I made that decision.  This experience helped me understand that is one of the best decisions I have ever made.

And I am now off the market.

Easter Week

This week went by like lightning.  My job can be completely absorbing sometimes.  I've got one of those complicated jobs where I deal with several different constituencies, have greatly varied responsibilities, and also have to produce a certain amount of "product" measured in my field as "money in the door."  I'm a specialized sort of fund raiser that deals with anything more complicated than writing a check, like art or land or trusts.  Then, I accidentally proved good at a couple other things and got promoted to do stuff like strategic planning and listening to people complain about the imperfections inherent in the system. 

In fact, during a meeting yesterday morning, an unusual circumstance presented itself and MY boss interrupted the speaker, saying, "That's crazy shit... that goes to Anne... oddities and absurdities are her job!"

Which suits me fine and caters a bit to my ADHD.  Always something new happening.

But I lose track of time and sometimes have to sit back on my heels in my yard and think, Really, what did I DO this week? 

When you are in the midst of it, you don't realize how much you are doing.  And like many people I know, all you see is the stuff left on your to-do list, not the stuff you've checked off.

This week was amazing.

I had great workouts every single day and tried a bunch of fun new stuff to boot!  I met very interesting people who want to do something amazing for my university and my state and we are moving forward with plans.  I was going off course in something that is very meaningful to me on a personal level, and had to be brave and reset the direction, and it is all turning out really good.  I got caught up on something I was shamefully behind on.  I had a lot of meetings.  I had to revise my travel plans for next week due to an unexpected funeral next Wednesday.  My Godchild's birthday was this week, and I still cannot believe that this beautiful 19 yr old is the same human whose tiny toes and fingers we carefully counted and whose eyelashes we marvelled at.  I woke up this morning with my abs aching from laughing so hard last night as some friends and I wandered about downtown Flagstaff, stopping every five feet to chat with someone we know.

I just keep thinking how amazing it is that God put all of these people and activities in my path and I got to experience so much of life so very, very quickly -some really beautiful things and really breathtaking people.

What a happy Easter week!!

Heading Home

Good Friday, I woke up and had a lovely morning walking around Flagstaff and feeling all badass.  As I was kneeling through the Stations of the Cross at noon, it suddenly hit me.

It is time to go home.  I'm ready.

I'm from Indiana originally, first South Bend, then a few years in Evansville, then West Lafayette for undergrad and Valparaiso for law school.  In my mid-30s I moved back for a couple years to try out the convent and promptly moved away when that didn't pan out.  I've lived a lot of different places since then.

I do not often visit.  I have friends back there, and we keep up with each other mostly on Facebook and email.  I have family, but given the delicate dance my dad and I do to stay civil with each other, it has been wiser to stay away for a while.  (Mostly me, honestly.  I get more aggravated with my dad than he does with me.)

It has been over two years since I went back to Indiana.

The funny thing about my birth state -I refer to it as "home" but it doesn't FEEL like home, but it still is the place with the BEST doughnuts and BEST candy and BEST German food and MOST BEAUTIFUL scenery, and a people I understand.  Hoosiers never make it long term in Minnesota, because a Hoosier is direct and blunt and occasionally offensive, where Minnesotans smile and nod and completely ignore you and sometimes undermine you in the name of non-confrontation.  (I think even my dear MN friends would agree with this.)  I like blunt, most days.  Confrontation is second nature to a people raised with the idea that "he needed killin'" is a viable defense.

Maybe that's why AZ fits me so well.  These people are downright combative.

I was chatting with a friend this morning about how when you aren't secure in your own self, it doesn't take much to throw you off.  People content in their own dysfunction have an investment in your dysfunction, and they know the buttons to push.  So, I've stayed away for two years, working on my own head and heart and stability.

The last time I went home, I was a head case for over a month.  I am quite confident that this time, the visit will be pleasant and maybe even fun, and I can keep my expectations low and my positive attitude high.

I am finding I am missing that part of Indiana that pulls at my heart and calls me back.

Crack Bunnies and Goals

Like Achilles, Superman, and heroes throughout time, I have a weakness.

This candy's trademarked name is "Reesters" but I personally feel it is better labelled: Crack Bunnies.   They are the perfect balance of chocolate and peanut butter and perfect to just pop in your mouth and impossible to stop eating once I start.  Even once I hit the point of feeling slightly ill, I just can't stop.

Addiction isn't pretty, people.

I came up with some good goals a couple weeks ago and actually am well on my way to achieving them, yay me.  Crack bunnies went on sale the day after Easter, and of COURSE, I ended up going home with a couple bags.  I sacrificed one to my trainer because I knew, KNEW that if I went home with both, then they both would get eaten, solely by me, growling at Roxy to stay away.

As it was, the entire bag got eaten last night.  In my slightly numb and very glassy-eyed state, I just had to shake my head.  I knew this would happen.  Part of me even wanted it to, when I am being brutally honest with myself.  Numb is kind of nice sometimes.

Still, this morning, I got up early, ate my green shake, headed to my killer yogaish class and rebooted.  I spent zero time in the guilt zone over the binge.

Guilt, I've found, is counter-productive.  When I let guilt take over my decision-making, my decision-making never improves.  Did I miss my mark yesterday?  Yes, I did.  Did it completely derail all my good work?  Of course not!

The point in all of this isn't to never fall or fail or to be perfect every single moment.  What is "perfection" in all this, anyway?  My sense of what is right for me now is different than it was a year ago, or two years ago, and definitely 10 years ago!

When you have moved away from the thought pattern of, "This sucks and it feels like punishment!" to "I am loving myself enough to take good care of myself -eating well, exercising, making rational life decisions!" the falls aren't permanent or a sign of how THINGS WILL NEVER CHANGE AND I WILL ALWAYS BE A COMPLETE FUCK UP, which at one point in my life seemed written in granite and tattooed on my scalp.  The falls simply remind me now that perfection has never been an attainable goal, and when you fall down seven times, you get up eight -and marvel at how much better you are at getting up than you were the first seven times.

Persistence, not power, lets a river wear down a rock.