The little house by the sea...

I have written down a bunch of stuff this year but this is really it. Today is the solstice at 6:03 pm and I am running out of time. This is the end of the line for me. When the earth teeters on its axis at 23.5 degrees pointing away from the sun and we, up here in the northern hemisphere, have the longest night of the year, the shift begins. Then the sun stands still in the sky for three straight days and we begin again.

This is always the end of my year.  And it has been a doozy.  According to Google doozy is actually defined as "something outstanding or unique of its kind." That is exactly what is has been.  This year I have made extraordinary changes.  Looking back right now I feel like a soldier showing up after the war is over - a day late and a dollar short. But in this case, being exhausted and broke might be just the wormhole I am looking for. It's not what I expected but it might actually be what I asked for (secretly).  

I have this list in my head of all the crazy things that have happened (good and bad) and I am still trying to find meaning in them.  Meaning???  Why!?   It's so annoying really.  I once asked the universe to strip me of all I knew to be true and leave me with only a simple task to do while I contemplate my existence.  I was ONLY JOKING. But here I sit out of shape, out of money and perceivably out of time while everything slips out of reach.

I find myself sitting on the couch, the day well in force, in my pajamas between my two dogs.  This, in itself, makes me blissfully happy.  Yet I'm going through the list in my head..."the kids both had terrible injuries, the dog lost her leg, I moved really really far away and took a job that turned out to be a cluster of madness and insurrection" (at least in my house where standing up to "the man" is not anymore scary than standing up to the Jehovah's Witnesses at the front door - which is pretty darn scary).  It was a necessary prerequisite to lasting one. more. fucking. day. at. that. horrendous. job.  Let's just say I'm on the one day at a time retirement plan and keeping my resume circulated.  

I had the privilege of staying with my old good friend during the transition for a month.  That was like being home for me.  It's the only way to describe it.  Now, as I wrap this up on the cusp of Mercury's second retrograde of the year, I must say my little house by the sea IS ME and I love living here.

Down Dog, Up Dog and Puppy Love

Today I reached my goal of 30 yoga classes in 30 days.  Yay me!  Actually, the hardest part was overcoming the guilt of spending precious minutes not working, studying, and doing dishes, laundry or some other event that will inevitably wait for me until the end of time.  I can always count on those old buddies to be there.  But I carved the time out of each day and did it!  I feel pretty good.  

So good, in fact, that I realized on my way to class this morning (a mere 2 minute commute from my house) that it was a pretty powerful experience.  Now don't get me wrong, I am not transformed into some super flexible, incredibly enlightened, lithe, picture of health.  But that was what was so beautiful about it.  I took my big butt into class and did it anyway.  Humbled, I moaned and groaned through the twists and moved my spare tire out of the way whenever possible.  

Without trying, I seemed to have found myself living the white trash girl's version of eat, pray, love.  I suppose I ate my way through grad school.  A complete act of unconsciousness.  It seems I could not focus on self care during that time.  I have lots of really good excuses for that but the bottom line points to a truth that has been expressed to me more than once:  I constantly try and "fit 10 pounds of sugar into a 5 pound sack."  And that's putting it nicely.  Maybe it's because I have so much to do in this lifetime and I feel like I've hardly begun.  Maybe I'm a late bloomer and I'm making up for lost time.  OR maybe I'm learning how to find a balance between caring for myself and caring for others.  

This leads me to the "pray" section of my "quest."  Doing 30 straight days of yoga class isn't exactly a balance in my world.  Every other day, perhaps.  At least until my boys are in college.  But it was a great jump start.  It forced me to look inside, find some peace and stretch my limits.  Having a whole month as my goal gave me the luxury of allowing myself to breathe more slowly, take my time transitioning between poses, and find differences with each practice (all these things should be done ALL the time anyway).  So without really noticing, all of a sudden, my heart is open, my mind is open and things started happening.  Good things ~ like having a conscious contact with a higher power and with myself.  I found a way to maintain balance and I notice when I fall off the wagon so it's easier to get back on track.  I found out what foods I really should avoid.  I hear myself hollering at my boys instead of just being consumed with my upset du jour.  Good stuff.

Then there's the love.  Well, let me tell you I have found some love.  After taking my boys to do some volunteer work at the Outer Banks SPCA something not so crazy happened.  After 4 years of being "dogless" we have added two new members to our family.  At first it was set up as a "foster" situation.  An abandoned box of puppies showed up at the shelter while we were there.  What?!  I know what you are thinking....

"Of course they did, Dummy.  Why do you think they get you to volunteer?"  

But it was a serendipitous situation and I knew these dogs were meant for us before they even got carried off the bed of the pick-up truck and into the shelter. Well, not all seven, but two little girls.  Let it suffice to say that everything came together:  Vet bills and a crate taken care of by SPCA, supplies, fear of having two more mouths to feed, leaving for an extended 5 day Thanksgiving vacay (remember my friend Steve and Steve's COG theory of inter-personal relationships?  The perfect dogsitter!)  And just look at them!  Pure bliss.  Dogs are the epitome of unconditional love.  These pups are already part of the family and part of my newly open heart!

The Law Of Diminishing Returns

The law of diminishing returns is one of the pearls I took away from my beloved economics professors, Andy Kozak and Don Stabile, back in “phase one” of college. 

I really don’t have too many memories of my undergraduate years because they are clouded behind the smoky, noisy, beer-soaked overtones of each Thursday night at “The Green Door” which is still the local watering hole for St. Mary’s College students twenty something years later.  But I digress…

The law of diminishing returns or “diminishing marginal returns” occurs when some factor is added to the production of a product or service with all the other factors remaining constant and by adding that factor it actually decreases productivity.  Like having too many cooks in the kitchen or too many workers on an assembly line.  Remember Laverne and Shirley on the assembly line at the brewery?  If you don’t you are too young to care about this stuff and if you do then you get the picture below.

I’ve been tossing around the idea of letting go of stuff and I really do mean stuff because I think my “stuff” is cramming up my Chi and to be honest the “Feng Shui” in my house is pretty pathetic.  I am on day 19 of my 30 days of yoga and it’s going great.  I can’t believe how making the space in my day for an “unrushed” yoga practice has given me lots of opportunities to reflect on other goodness. 

The poison darts are still flying but I am standing gracefully while they whiz past.  I credit my deep psoas stretches and stubborn nature to stick to my commitments for having kept me on track.  The Universe has a subtle way of speeding past at an alarming rate.  Sometimes the only thing we can see are the shiny, pretty things as they go by.  Pretty people, shiny cars, pretty stuff.  Then we miss what is.

Truth:  When I first started all this business 4 years ago I told God that I secretly wouldn’t care if I had to give up all my worldly possessions and go live in an ashram and feed poor people and scrub floors to gain some insight.  Well, I lied.  I am terrified of giving stuff up.  I leave unfinished business all over the place.  I can’t commit.  I think if I say no I might miss out on something.  I am the biggest pack rat.  I keep rocks.  ROCKS!  I am hopeless when it comes to attaching nostalgia to material possessions.  I want my kids to stop growing.  Where are they on a Friday night?  Not here!  But they know I am here and that is a very big deal.  I am chilling and sussing out all this business of risky behavior and growth.

Don used to use “Guns and Butter” when micro or macro or whatever economics he was teaching called for it.  That was supply and demand (see, I did learn something).  I say the law of diminishing returns is showing me that by giving stuff up I’m gaining productivity.  I can be of service.  I can move forward.  I have to do this little by little.  Baby steps.  But that’s OK.  I’m on the right path.  Two of my favorite quotes about that are here:

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

“A little simplification would be the first step toward rational living, I think.”

Eleanor Roosevelt

Om Sweetcakes...

(Angry) Chair Pose

Whenever I feel like I want to write something inspiring the poison darts come in.  I call them poison darts because my life seems to operate both at warp speed and in slow motion simultaneously.  I know that might not make sense but I bet it does.  The poison darts are things like: cover letters, budgets, billing, broken vacuums, dusty vents, leaky toilets…you get the idea.  My aunt whom I love and respect as a person and mom once told me, “The days are long but the years fly by!” 

It would be hard to pinpoint which event in my current state of existence is most “blogworthy.”  Which crazy thing can I relate to my cohorts that will allow them to leave feeling good?  If I can’t be a good example I can be a horrendous warning!  Who said that? 

This reminds me of a poem I scratched on the back of an envelope after a particularly intense yoga class taught by Marcia Cline at the Ashtanga Studio in Nags Head several years ago.  Or was it several hundred years ago?  Let me see if it’s still in the archives…

All I can say is after 8 straight days of yoga and 3 days of Anne’s cleanse (I told you I was scared to go to her class on Thursday) I am hoping I can be in “chair pose” without thinking about Layne Staley and his “Angry Chair” lyrics,

“Sitting on an angry chair 

Angry walls that steal the air 

Stomach hurts and I don't care 

What do I see across the way, hey 

See myself molded in clay, oh 

Stares at me, yeah I'm afraid, hey 

Changing the shape of his face, ah yeah”

****************

Here is my poem.  And that is quite enough for today.

A Thousand Little Darts

Friday, May 8, 2009 at 12:30pm

A thousand little darts

thrown at me every day

Each one laden with the poison lie

that I am not worthy.

Why should they decide?

And why do I care that they try?

Wounded and bleeding

from the thousand pricks under my skin

I say “heal me” looking up 

only to see storm clouds brewing. 

Then I sit quietly

and look within,

there are no marks

there is no judgment.

There is only love,

peace, grace, & authenticity.

Now I see.

There is God living in my heart!

Reminding me with every beat

that I am whole. 

Inside I carry the shield

against all that bombards me.

In spite of those poisonous darts screaming

“You are not worthy!”

The sound of their wicked song fades

and now I only hear a bird

rejoicing in the day and grateful

for the coming rain.

~Whitney Evans

Mysore is not just a city in India....

The studio offers an Ashtanga class on Wednesdays.  Ashtanga is a style that is derived from the teachings of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois in the southern Indian city of Mysore.  Appropriately named if you ask me.  I find Ashtanga style very challenging and somewhat unnatural. Maybe I'm just bitter because I have short legs and am not double jointed in the shoulders.  I could say My ____ sore (use your imagination).  Suffice it to say I opted for "gentle flow" instead.

I have finished day three of my 30 straight days of yoga.  That means I am 10% finished.  Not that I'm counting down ~maybe I'm just feeling a little displaced since my days and nights aren't overflowing with Excel spreadsheets and calculations.  But, seriously, OM is not the word that comes to mind today when I am trying to move about freely.   It's more like "ugh" or "ouch."  I am literally afraid to go to Anne's 10:30 class today.  But like I said, my commitment is "Go, unroll mat, participate in yoga, roll up mat, leave".  An exercise in letting go of perfectionism.  A defect I am definitely over.

Regardless of my fussiness, I am thoroughly enjoying the time I get to spend on the mat.  I leave the day at the door.  My worries are waiting for me, most assuredly.  I get to spend approximately an hour and a half being coaxed into stretching, warming and de-stressing my muscles.  I'm not sure how "zen"  I would be feeling in the guy ^here's pose.  Which is why I am taking it easy at first.  

My thoughts are super scattered but I'm on the verge writing something I approve of.  Stay tuned.

Steve's Cog Theory of Inter-Personal Relationships

Lots of people I love and respect have awesome blogs.  They are successful “bloggers.”  I think it is a good way to make connections with people.  A good way to say things that people relate to.  Since I have decided to write about my journey (I accidentally typed journal) on a public platform I have let a tiny sliver of fear creep in.  What if people judge me?  Or worse what if people don’t ‘get’ what I am saying?  I figured something out.  It doesn't matter what I say or what I write.  People get what they get, however they get it.  I am learning how to let go of outcomes.  That doesn't mean I don’t plan stuff or even worry about stuff, I just plan with the idea that I have no idea how things will turn out.  It is a precipice I am standing on which is both exciting and terrifying.  And different.

My friend Steve has this thing, “Steve’s cog theory of inter-personal relationships.”  Steve says everyone operates like a ‘cog’ connected to each other and when one person does something the cog picks it up and carries it over to the next ‘cog’ causing this transfer of energy.  In case you were wondering, the picture above shows how cogs are hooked together.  My son’s fourth grade teacher told me last week that the world has the same amount of energy now as it did when it “began.”  It is just being transferred around like the bicycle that is operated by a student which lights the light bulbs attached to the bike wheels in her classroom.  Pretty deep for a Friday afternoon.

I have had a lot of thoughts since I have made the decision to carve out (realistically) 2 hours a day for the next 30 days to do something intentionally for myself.  Something means being accountable to myself and committing to go, unroll my mat, participate in yoga, and roll up mat, leave.  But let me say a few things about how I picked yoga.  You see, I am a karate student.  I will always be a karate student even without physically training ~ a fierce Ki (or Chi) and a big mouth go with me everywhere.  That’s just the way it is.  I practiced this “moving meditation” by kicking and screaming and pushing my body beyond its comfortable limits for fourteen years.  I made lifelong bonds with people (you know who you are).  I got up at 5:30 in the morning and did knuckle push-ups with some of the best martial artists around.  I am honored to be part of that group.  OSU. 

So, understandably when I took my first yoga class with my friends Carol and Nina in Baltimore I was left feeling….ripped off.  It makes me laugh now because I was one of those people who “get what they get” so I took very little from that class.  Years later, however, I entered into my local yoga studio, literally yards from my karate dojo.  I was hooked.  I felt NEW, fresh, rejuvenated, and like I had gotten a great work out.  My Shihan would even make fun of me and call me “yogi” if I dropped into the dojo after a yoga class.  But now he gets it.  He is as much a yogi as anybody.

This is a small town so all of our ‘cogs’ rub together frequently.  Sometimes I think the salt air causes them to jam up.  Yoga helps me wring out the stuff that jams my cogs.  It oils the stiff places and then at the end of the practice it gives me space to reflect (or sleep if I must).  It is Savasana or in karate Rei.  I’m stoked for the journey.  It will be fun to see how it turns out.

Put A Fork In Me....

I'm done!  I just completed an intensive 20 month graduate program in Forensic Accounting.  No, it's not dissecting numbers in a lab or paying the bills for the medical examiner; it's more like mitigating fraud risk, dealing with compliance issues under IFRS and US GAAP and lots of other acronyms.  Why in the world would I want to do that you ask?  Because I'm always doing things the hard way.  Give me a simple problem and I will dissect it, rearrange it, recreate it, reinvent it, beat it to death until it is begging for mercy, then I will get so tired of dealing with it I will find a simple solution.  Or-- call it laying groundwork for my incredibly charmed and enjoyable future. Sure I could have just used the accounting classes I've accumulated over the years to sit and study for the CPA exam and be working in a cubicle for a public accounting office making a reasonable salary and living peacefully.  But that would have been too easy.  No, I had to go to that extra effort.  Ask me what time it is, I might research how to build a watch.  A defect I am working on as I write.  I'm either working on perfecting it or working on ridding myself of it, I'm not sure which.

You see, I'm in a place of reinvention.  I left my bad marriage, fought like hell for my kids' best interests, went into insurmountable credit card debt doing that then had the audacity to borrow an unthinkable amount of money to go back to school and further my opportunities as a career person after 12 years of being a mom first, bookkeeper second.  I still put my kids first but I need to earn more money as the sole breadwinner of our family of three.  As of today, I actually achieved the goal of finishing grad school.  A Masters of Science in Forensic Accounting!  Sounds pretty impressive, huh?  Well then, I should be walking, no skipping, down the yellow brick road to financial freedom.  I should be basking in the light of this new identity, this incredibly empowered single mom with the world as my oyster begging me to come join in the quest for knowledge and prosperity right?!!  Not so much.

I'm sitting in a little marine and nautical consignment shop at the far end of town manning the register while my younger son watches a movie on my Kindle on the floor behind the counter.  I'm hoping to make enough cash to give each of my two boys something for their upcoming birthdays.  Sure I have a great little free-lance accounting business to help get me through this transitory time but it's not cutting it.  And frankly, I don't have enough ass to chase down the business.  So, for the next 30 days, barring any and all obstacles, I am going on a quest.  Sort of like Donkey and Shrek when they went to rescue the multi-faceted Princess Fiona.  Only I am going to the yoga studio a half mile from my house.  EVERY DAY for 30 days.  Starting Monday.  And instead of writing about all my epiphany's and life changing poses and Prana after the fact, I am going to take you with me.  Maybe not every day but this is the beginning of the rest of my life and I want you to come along...if you dare.  It might be boring, it might be enlightening, it might be funny but it will definitely be life changing.  It's time.