Grousing

I started sorting though my dance gear this weekend  (Give... Sell... Toss) and I admit I was grousing.

Since 1999, when I took that first feeble step toward a proper shimmy, belly dancing has been my therapy, my art, my safe space.  Even when I lived in places without troupes or classes, I found a way to dance.  I made many of my own costumes, coveted intricate designs from Egypt, clapped those zills together 'til the neighbors complained. I've danced with friends, strangers who became friends, landed on my ass a few times, and always ended laughing.  I've put two-sided tape on parts of my body that I wasn't even sure I had!

I've missed it desperately the last couple years when schedules and then my crumbling spine made it difficult to dance with anything approaching consistency.  I missed my dance sisters but stayed away so I wouldn't openly cry.

Then my back had its final say, which was, "No. This is the end of this."

The curious thing about back problems -they are so individual.  One person's back is helped by yoga, another's is destroyed.  One person's back embraces belly dancing, another's completely rejects it.

One particular motion necessary for belly dance but not for "life" pings a particular nerve that makes my legs stop working.  Still, I held on to the hope that with enough physical therapy and hard work and slow practice, I would be back in that hip wrap eventually, tossing my hair during a barrel roll.

The realization dawned on me that I really, truly, will not be able to do this again. 

This was a beautiful, stable, empowering part of my past, but it is not a part of my future.

Kayla's Compassion #1000Speak

By now the whole world knows the story of Kayla Mueller, the young woman who died in the hands of terrorists.

In the weeks since her death, I have been hearing over and over again about the amazing young woman she was.  Even as a teenager and an undergraduate student, she was involved in helping others that many would turn away from.

In a letter written during her captivity, Kayla told her family: "I have been shown in darkness, light, and have learned that even in prison, one can be free. I am grateful. I have come to see that there is good in every situation, sometimes we just have to look for it." 

According to someone who knew Kayla and her family personally, Kayla's favorite quote was by author Bertrand Russell: "Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and the unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind."

Her tragic end cannot overshadow the brilliancy with which her life illuminated those around her.  From volunteering in the Coconino County Jail to giving her very life to help refugees in Syria, this woman was the face of pure compassion to anyone in need.

Her total giving of self is the stuff of which saints and heroes are made, one decision at a time.  Her compassion is actually something that we are ALL called to do -maybe not in Syria, but at least to those around us -the tired checkout clerk, the burned-out plumber, our sometimes-irritating family members.

Kayla said, “Peace is not something you wish for. It’s something you make. It’s something you do. It’s something you are. And it’s something you give away.”

May her light shine on forever, inspiring us all to remember that compassion is also something we make.

Tapped

I like to think of myself as a fairly responsible adult.  I pay loads of taxes, hold down a steady job, eat sensibly and work out regularly.

Then yesterday my water got shut off.

My own stupid fault -I forgot to pay the water bill.  I even remember thinking about this weekend -hmmm, I think I'm late on the utility bill, I should pay that... then promptly forgot even as I was organizing my house.

I learned from the nice lady at the water place that I could pay rather a lot extra -in cash- and have it turned on last night, or suffer through the evening, show up at city hall in the morning and just pay what I owe, plus a small reconnection fee.

I shrugged, meh, I shower at the gym and I have several gallons of water here. I can ignore the dishes for a day. I can handle an evening without running water.

Now, living in AZ, even up here in the mountains, you learn about water conservation.  I never leave a tap running while brushing my teeth, for example.

But there was something about having to measure out potable drinking water for things like washing hands, flushing toilets or rinsing a dish that brought home to me the amount of water I still quite thoughtlessly use.  I kept thinking -what if I had to carry this water every day -like millions of people around the world have to do?  Would I let a tap run while washing my hands or turn it off until I need to rinse?  Would I dump the old water in Roxy's dish down the drain or use it to water plants?

This morning, I humbly paid my bill at city hall and was assured the water would be turned back on today.  So my immediate problem is solved.

Still thinking about water, though.

Terrorists

I just now heard that our alumna, Kayla Mueller, has been confirmed dead.  She had been held hostage by terrorists for a year and half.  A most beautiful soul by accounts from all who knew her.  Her final hours had to be terrifying beyond imagining.

We live in a world where intelligent, caring women are kidnapped from their places of giving to others and die horrific deaths because of NO REAL REASON.  Because there is evil in the world and there are those who will behead every child and torch every blade of grass just to spread the hate around.  (And anyone who thinks she really died from Jordanian airstrikes is living in a fantasy world.)

Will this be the act that galvanizes us to start caring... thousands of Middle Eastern men, women and children have died at the hands of these evil people, but maybe that was too far away, we deny knowing them. We deny they are part of us.

Of course they are -they always have been.  But now it is in our face.

President Obama just said, "Kayla represents what is best about America."

That is why she was murdered. No denying that.

Compassion Towards Me

Being a part of 1000 Voice Speak for Compassion has kept my attention on little daily things where compassion is called into play.

Yesterday... well, let me paint the picture.  I was very tired.  My back sent sharp pain down my left leg when I turned too fast.  Almost falling asleep at my desk at 3:30pm.  But I had to go to Target and couple other places. I really just wanted to curl up somewhere quiet with a heating pad and nap.

I had to go to Target to return prescription medicine that wasn't filled correctly.  There was a line.  So my tired pained body had to just stand there and wait, along with everyone else.

They know me there, so the pharm tech called me up by name.  I explained the issue and that I called the day before to affirm the prescription I was SUPPOSED to have, had been filled, and then we could switch it out.

Then I was informed it had been reshelved that morning.

I did it.  I had an internal meltdown that was RIGHT ON THE EDGE of coming out my mouth.  I gasped, out, NO WAY, then clapped a hand over my mouth, on the verge of angry tired tears.

"But I called and ..." blahblahblah pleading with all that is Holy that there was a mistake.

She was so kind and apologetic.  I did NOT want to be That Customer who loses her mind over small stuff.  I knew I was on the edge of a precipice.

I looked her in the eye.  "I'm sorry.  I do not mean to have a meltdown.  I'm just tired and impatient."

And she was still very kind, "I understand.  You are one of our nicest customers, and trust me, you are nowhere near the level of mean some people can throw out at me!"

I was so grateful to her.  Just that small act of compassion, understanding, forgiveness gave me a bit of space from my raw emotions.  I glanced back and saw that the line was even longer than when I had arrived, but there she was, being patient and unhurried with me, as if I was the only one at the counter.

Then on top of that, they "comped" the medication I was picking up, just to be nice to me for me trouble.

Thank you God, for all the people who show such compassion in their work.

Mad at the Risotto

I was cranky and exhausted last Friday.

As you know, I gave up refined sugar and am limiting other carbs.  One night, I had a Moscow Mule, forgetting entirely that there is ginger ale in that!  At that same dinner I had risotto, thinking it was a reasonably healthy choice.

When I looked it up online later, I may as well have had a big ol' piece of chocolate cake.  White rice risotto is hugely inflammatory as well as high glycemic index.

So my moody days after were very understandable, between that and my sugary drink.

I'm not mad at myself.  I don't get mad at myself over food, unless I binged.  I make the best choices I can with what is in front of me, and move on.

I'm mad at the risotto.  There it was, masquerading as healthy food.  I REALLY wanted the mashed potatoes, but no, I was being healthy.  I really REALLY wanted something off the gorgeous dessert menu, but no, I was being healthy.  I could have had either of the things I wanted more than RISOTTO with a zero sum difference in my body.

Stupid risotto.  You will never fool me again.

No Rush To The Altar

I'm a fairly impulsive person by nature, and nowhere is this more evident than in my dating life.  I either get really excited about the possibilities and jump in head first, or the other person sees more potential than I do, but I jump in and hope for the best.

The funny part is that I'm also a commitment phobe.  After the heady rush of the falling in love stage, I'm usually eying the exit.  Took me a while to catch on to that.

Relationships have been a huge topic of conversation this week.  One friend who finally met someone in her life worth marrying is excited about the possibilities in the future.  We talked about how there really is no rush to the altar.  Any timeline is just in our heads.  

I had a very teary talk with another friend with a terminal illness who told me that when she dies, she wants her husband to remarry, and she hopes that his choice is me.  I told her that MY plan is for her to dance at my wedding to someone else, and about four years after she passes away, I will introduce him to my nicest friends. In the meantime, he wil always be invited to our home for Trival Pursuit and BBQ. I then begged her to never ever mention this conversation to her husband because I would just die.  

I'm thinking about how when you know someone is right in your life, there is a sort of quietness about it.  You're excited to see them, but there isn't a do-or-die feel about it.  It's calm.  And it isn't really public.  It doesn't get played out across Facebook. Your friends don't get dragged in.

It's a lovely sort of blossoming that you may not even notice is beautiful, until it is right there in front of you, waiting to be seen.

3 Weeks Sugar Free -Reporting In

Well, I've been sugar free for over three weeks, and reduced gluten intake to less than once/week.

Well, if I had relied on the advertising, I would be expecting every area of my life to have done a complete turnaround -my skin would be glowing, I'd be sleeping all night, my mood swings gone the way of the dodo, my home immaculate from nightly visits by house-elves, and my bank account overflowing.  I should have lost 60 pounds by now, too!

Because refined sugar and wheat are the devil, right? 

There were moments I was white knuckling it, I promise you.  A bad day at work traditionally means self-comforting through chocolate.  One day I was literally CRYING because I wanted cookies so bad.  I promised myself I could have ANYTHING for dinner, anything at all -pizza, Cajun BBQ, mac n cheese, ANYTHING that wasn't sugar.  After I got home and cried some more, I decided to just eat what I had in the house, which is all very practical and "clean" as the trainers say.

So, this very un-pretty addiction I have is pretty hard to break.  Sometimes I have to breathe through it.  Sometimes I have to just Feel My Feelings, being unable to numb out in sugar and junk food.  Feel. Acknowledge. Release.

As with every junkie, I want it most when I am hurting, lonely, sad or overwhelmed.  I spent all last year relying more on sugar to get through my life than God, and my commitment for this year has been to reverse that.

So there I am, feeling slightly stupid as I offer up my anger, hurt, sadness, disappointment, craving for sugar, and say, "Jesus, I got nothing.  I know you are here.  Thank you for everything and everybody I have in my life.  Help me rely on you."

So here is what I see developing in my life as I walk away from this addiction and toward the person God created me to be:

My mood swings are fewer and farther between.  I have better control over my raw emotions.  I have better control over my asthma, rarely needing my rescue inhaler.  I do not know if I have lost weight, because I gave up weighing, and instead am measuring progress by obedience to the plan.  But I feel better, calmer, more energetic.

Still waiting on the house-elves.

When the Jeans Zip

I got a pair of half-price jeans this weekend and I'm rockin 'em at work today.

My colleague said, "Isn't it hard to spend money on clothes as you are losing weight?"

Yes, yes it is... but it is even harder to believe that I can actually fit into some of my clothes.  They just don't look big enough.  I ordered jeans a couple months ago online in the size that "felt" right, despite the size guide on the site telling me that would be too big.  I didn't trust it.  So, now I have another pair of jeans I can't wear, because THAT is how much bigger they are than I "felt" they would be.

I have a robe I've had for YEARS. I only wear it when I'm sick, and then usually over a couple layers of clothes, so until a few days ago, I did not realize that this size 28 robe would WRAP TWICE around my currently size 18 body.  (I'm keeping it, though.  It's very cuddly.)

I gained and lost 40 lbs last year.  Gained from stress.  Lost when I remembered that no matter how big an asshat a person is being, they are not forcing those cookies into my mouth, so I can't blame them for my bad coping mechanisms.

Anyway, this pair of half-price jeans is the first pair of new jeans I've bought since I lost the 2014 Fat Stash... trusting the measurements, they fit and are long enough and I love them.

And I have to admit, I felt sincere satisfaction when they zipped up without wiggling or jumping around the dressing room.  Since I'm not weighing myself until July, this is all I've got to go on.

These Weirdos Are My Tribe

“When you find people who not only tolerate your quirks but celebrate them with glad cries of ‘me too!’ be sure to cherish them. Because those weirdos are your tribe.”

That quote has been attributed to so many people, I have no idea of the source.

Whoever this person is, I want to meet him or her.  This is true wisdom.

One of the things I love about the members of my tribe is that they are all so different. Artists, writers, photographers, musicians, poets, preachers, athletes and so so many more, all masquerading as stay at home moms, corporate managers, cogs in The Machine... But we know better.  "Preparing a face to meet the faces that you meet..." is the reality of today's world.

But with our tribe we can be who we really are, and keep testing our limits to our identity.  I want to try to be an athlete... and there they are, cheering me on.  I want to be a writer... "You already are!" they grin at me.  When I'm whispering, "I think I can?" they are shouting, "We know you can! We will plan the party to celebrate your success!"

And when the inevitable fall-on-my-face occurs... many hands are reaching for me, setting me upright, brushing away my tears and assuring me the lessons I learned will help in the next attempt.

To name all the members of my tribe and their adorable attributes would take a year of blogging, but to the people I love, who love me, pray with me and for me, dance with me, sing with me, take long walks with me, call me, text me, lift heavy weights with me, travel with me, and face this crazy world with your hands entwined with mine... Thank you.

I love you.  I am grateful for you.  Thank you.

Compassion Project

This cool project was started about compassion... In an harmonized action, 1000 bloggers will spread the good news of compassion across the globe on Feb 20.

What does compassion mean to you?

When I was in law school, I ran out of money and had to make some hard decisions.  I decided to let my car insurance go.  When I went to the agent, who I didn't know from anyone, to let him know I was canceling my insurance, he asked why, and I was honest.  He took a long look at me and said, "if my daughter ran into trouble and couldn't come to me, for whatever reason, I would hope that someone would help her" and he covered my insurance for six months.  

Although I eventually paid him back, that act of kindness gave me hope that I would get through the hard times, and inspired me more times in my life than he likely ever intended.

I want to be like that insurance agent.  If he judged me for poor financial acumen, he never let on.  He saw a need he could help with, a virtual stranger, and he did.

I want to have that big of a heart.

No Yogi

It should been a clue that things would be different when the wall of heat hit me as I walked into the room, new yoga mat tucked under my arm.  Apparently the class before Yoga Basics is Hot Yoga.

"Great," I thought. "This should be named 'Poses In Hell.'"

I dutifully set up my mat, got my blocks, optimistically threw a towel down over the mat (really, I hate spraying down the mat!) and waited quietly for class to begin.

The teacher, who is adorable, said, "Yeah, this is called Yoga Basics, but we have people who have been coming a while, so this will be pretty challenging."

"Then perhaps a new class name is in order??" I groused silently.  I grumbled to myself a bit then.  It's hot in here. This is gonna suck. I wanna go home and eat some of that pulled pork my crockpot is making for me.

Then I smiled at my grouchy self and said, again, totally in my head, "You're just nervous. It will be fine."

And it was.

No, it didn't fit the web site description.  Yes, I had to do a fair bit of adapting, and again sharing with the teacher that no, my joints don't line up, so yes, that is how my feet go, and sweating so much I began to worry about dehydration. I had to remove the towel from the mat about 10 minutes in because it was too slidey to get a firm grip, so I could see my own body fluid pooling in the grooves.

But once I gave myself permission to be new, to suck, to ask for help, to ACCEPT help, to make the necessary accommodations unashamed, I was able to just be in the moment, be grateful for the experience, smile at the people around me, and even marvel at the amount of dripping sweat my body can produce and yet survive.

I am no yogi, but I may become slightly addicted to this.

Love Never Fails

My niece, Rachel, who is an objectively-speaking badass young woman, has a saying on her Instagram that I stole for my own use. I have no idea where she got it.

FEAR: Forget Everything And Run or Face Everything and Rise. Your choice.

So. True.

I got a call I was sort of expecting to tell me that yet again I was the Number Two candidate for a position I coveted.  I was so sad and disappointed!  Got teary and everything!

So, following Rachel's stellar advice, I decided right then and there to just feel my feelings, be sad and disappointed, but to Trust in God's infinite love for me.  I am right where He wants me.  I can face that challenge, or simply run away and abandon everything I've worked for.

It is always a choice, isn't it?

Even in the midst of my vast disappointment, I was surrounded by love, from the comfort of friends and family to the peace I felt in accepting this situation, in the peace at deciding to stop job hunting and bloom where I'm planted. One of my SILs gave me six months of yoga lessons! I gotta use that up!

I am here for a reason. No clue what that is, but God has had Ample opportunity to move me out this past year, and here I remain.

A few people at my job know, the ones I am using for references.  The comfort it gave me when they said, I am sad for you, but happy for me. I don't want you to go! was immense.

This will be a great year.  No matter what happens, I am not alone, I am surrounded by love and have people in my life who believe in my purpose, even though no one of us know exactly what that is.

And I can continue to work on becoming the kind of person I want to be.

One Thing Remains

I did make a NY resolution: to wear makeup to work.  Day 1 was successful but did throw off my timing a bit.

Everything else has a plan.

On Epiphany Sunday, I had an epiphany.  I felt like 2014 was just marking time.  I accomplished less than I wanted, had relationships blow up, gained some weight, lost the weight, filled the holes in my life with sugar and swung my raw emotions around like a flamethrower.

But it wasn't just marking time.  I got a front row seat to what happens when I let my spiritual life grow cold on a back burner.  I got whelmed by life, then overwhelmed, again and again.  Relying on my own resources does that.

I made a few commitments and shared them with people who need to know so I can be held accountable, but the biggest, most important commitment I made was to spend time with God, every single day, and to hold up every decision, every emotion, every reaction, to His healing love.


My theme song for 2015:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6gKqddEw-Y

Your love never fails, never gives up
Never runs out on me

Higher than the mountains that I face
Stronger than the power of the grave
Constant in the trial and the change
One thing remains

On and on and on and on it goes
It overwhelms and satisfies my soul
And I never, ever, have to be afraid
One thing remains

Your love never fails, never gives up
Never runs out on me

In death, in life
I'm confident and covered by the power of Your great love
My debt is paid
There's nothing that can separate my heart from Your great love