Sticking to the Point

Show n' Tell

Today at noon, I'll walk into Miss A's school, as show n' tell.

The obvious topic would be acupuncture.

Or possibly, photography.

Today at noon, I'll walk into Miss A's school as a roller derby referee.

I've got my skate bag and my zebra shirt and a printed diagram of how the game is played.

I'll talk about the skaters and the refs and what we all do.

I'll use words like strong and athletic.

And hopefully, what the kiddies will take away from A's show n' tell today, is the belief that they can do anything, be anything that they desire.

That gender doesn't define what you do with your life.

That just because you're grown-up, you can still follow your dreams.

Today at noon, I'll walk into Miss A's school as show n' tell.

Today, I'm proud.

My Sacred Life Sunday :: in an instant

It was around this time last year. I remember that because we were meeting M and A at the town pub; a celebratory dinner in place of A's birthday party that M would miss.

A commotion at the table next to us, something was happening with the woman seated less than a foot away. I heard slurring. The man was quickly by the woman's side; catching her, setting her back into her seat. She seemed to be having a stroke, I was reaching for my phone as the paramedics arrived.

Trying to divert our children, we minimized what was happening.  We said the woman didn't feel well, and we assured the girls that the paramedics would help her.

Driving home A questioned whether the woman would be alright.

'mama she was like this', A said, demonstrating the woman's eye rolling back into her head, her body rigid.

Looking into the rear view mirror, I'm able to assuage my girl that the woman was going to be fine, trying to find solace in my own words. Trying to erase the haunting image of the woman with her face pressed into the man; a slight moan escaping her lips as big fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

This morning I learned that the woman died. She went into a coma and never came back.

In those moments before the paramedics arrived, I think she knew. There was recognition on her sad face; knowing and powerless to do anything.

My heart is heavy this afternoon with sadness for that woman. I remember the man saying to the paramedics that the woman spent the afternoon gardening. I remember thinking it was a lovely day to be in the garden, and I remember hoping against hope, that it was just a day of too much sun.

My Sacred Sunday :: eye spy

On Friday I was in the city getting my hair cut. I pushed myself to find images around me, looking for inspiration when I was feeling anything but inspired.

Sacred Sunday :: realizing

This morning in the shower, I realized that if someone spoke to me, the way that I speak to myself (inside my head), I'd never speak to that person again. Why is it that I allow myself to treat ME so badly?

And then I realized that I do allow people to treat me poorly, I just choose to ignore actions, (which speak louder than words), to become disguised by excuses so that I don't have to admit to myself that I'm hurt or feel rejected.

The thing is, I just want to be accepted. It's unfortunate that the people that don't accept my friendship, (whatever form that friendship takes), are the ones that I try my hardest to get. And it's the trying so hard, the desperation of my actions, that probably turns those very people away.

During my sabbatical I began to listen to my inner voice, not the negative tones that play into every insecurity I've ever had, but the voice that resonates with my intuition, my power.

I've learned to recognize (finally) that I have allowed relationships into my life that are toxic. Yes, everyone has good qualities, but that doesn't mean that those good qualities mesh with me. Instead of accepting fault and taking responsibility for the relationship not working, I choose to accept that it just doesn't work, without blame.  And I choose to let those people go.

I'm learning to recognize that the friendships I'm trying so hard to cultivate, the friendships that feel one-sided, are not the friendships to nurture.

By fostering friendships that are not supportive, I give power to my negative voice. I prove to myself that the adjectives hurled my way are accurate.

I'm in control of who I let into my life and I've allowed un-supported friendships to dominate my thinking. I wait for emails and phone calls and I let that be the barometer for how I feel about myself on any given day.

I'm done. I choose to listen to my empowered, intuitive voice and squish the negative self-talk into the corner, deflating its power by believing in myself and my choices.

I choose to walk away from those people that were never there in the first place.

I choose ME. If I'm a good and loyal friend to myself first, than I can expect the same.

A weight has lifted. What seemed lonely at first, is now an exciting proposition.

Sacred Life Sunday :: So What'cha want?

"it's not just when one door closes, another opens.

when one door closes, kristen, choirs burst into chorus, orchestras orchestrate, marching bands march, dogs catch frisbees, cats' chow, chow. chow, pigs' fly and 10,000 doors open.

kinda makes you want a door to close, huh?" 

-The Universe

Sometimes the door has to smack me in the ass before I hear the message.

As some of you know, I've been sorting through a dilemna with my professional self.

I haven't wanted to talk about it here, (which is why I started the other blog), mainly because I don't know who reads in my 'real' life and if there is someone visiting here from work, than I don't want them hearing anything here, until it's public there.

This all started back in February, when I received an email from the owner of the center where I rent, informing me that the extra massage room would no longer be available to me on Saturday's, that I'd have to 'deal' with the thumping walls and floor-pounding noise created from the NIA class next door. This decision was arrived at one afternoon when I walked into my office to find the owner and center's manager sitting in the chairs, determining the noise level. As if they could be objective. As if sitting in the chairs in any way simulates laying on the table with needles, eye pillow and soothing music. As if.

When it came time for our annual lease to be renewed, we were told the terms were changing; instead of our annual renewal, we were offered a month-to-month lease with a 90 day option for the owners and/or tenants to terminate. We were told not to worry. But it's difficult to not worry when you have no commitment, knowing at any time we could be asked to leave in 90 days.

Admittedly, I was bitter. I decided to watch The Secret and manifest all that I wanted for my practice with intention. I was specific. I let loose into the universe exactly what I wanted, where I wanted to be, what days I would work and less money for rent.

Ten months later, (yes, it took that long!), everything I asked for has transpired. And it's thrown me into a quandry because my nomadic heart isn't great with change, especially when there's no controversy. Yes, the situation isn't ideal, but I love the center for many reasons and I'd made my peace with the terms, choosing to believe that it would all work out. And it has. Exactly as I've asked.

I'm scared though. My strength is not in marketing. I've believed that being in the wellness center brings me business without any effort and in many ways, that has been true. But one patient every couple months is not the reason my business is thriving, it's ME. And wherever I am, my patients will follow. I keep telling myself this and some days, I can embrace this. Others, I wallow.

That's why when a beautiful mermaid offered her magic rocks for sale, I jumped. I believe in the power of lucky charms and talismans, especially when they have mermaid magic.

I believe.

Sacred Life Sunday :: Power

As is my way, lately, I've been impatient. Anxious with the weight of decision-making, I've been more in my head lately, trying to sort out my professional self.

On Wednesday my acupuncturist C asked, 'have you been impatient?' as she read my pulse.*

I've been an impatient mama. Most week days, (weekends are entirely different), I am worn down by asking. I ask,

please pick out your clothes, please get undressed, would you like ( ) for dinner?

And then I'll ask some more. Everyday it's the same routine and by the week's end, I've had it. In the morning, A isn't ready for breakfast. She wants me to pick out her clothes and then changes her mind. All the time I'm trying to move miss A along, so I can go make lunch, throw on clothes, shove a banana into my mouth, as I race out the door to warm up the car.

There are a lot of rules in first grade and I've added more to the mix, with no playdates after school except on Friday's. With a strict teacher this year, there's very little down-time during A's school day and it's very easy to lose that tiny play-time privledge if the rules aren't followed.**

During the parent-teacher conference, I giggled in my head as the teacher described A rolling away from the group as they listened at story time, that's so my girl. I'm sure by the end of the day, when I'm asking something of her, she's thinking 'enough woman. i'm watching hannah montana, i'm done.'

I have the power. It's really that simple. I can let this continue or I can change my attitude. Negativity hovers around our evenings; we're caught in our routine dance. I know with more focus and kindness, more attention, I can change the dynamic of how our evenings unfold. Less tears, more love. That's all A really wants, especially when she's tired. Attention. I'm too busy on the computer, folding clothes, straightening up...micro-managing, and I have the power to change that.

I don't expect this to be some Enchanted (which I loved by the way), moment, happily ever after. There will be more instances of impatience, there will be whinging and probably big droplet tears.

At least there's momentum, something that makes me feel present, no matter how tenuously we begin.

*This is the brilliance of Chinese medicine. Magic in the fingertips. Loathe to take the granulated herbal formula that truly tastes like bitter sludge, I'm preparing my decoction as I write this. I need this medicine and I'm shocked as I gulp it down, a taste of honey for afterwards laying close at hand, I realize this formula doesn't taste so bad. And again, I love this medicine. If the formula isn't terrible tasting, it means it's the right one.

**This school year has been a lesson in letting go. I have issues with A's teacher. But my girl likes her and doesn't complain, she's learning so much, and it's not about me. I'm learning that I can stand next to my child but I can't orchestrate or influence in the way that I've been able to for her first 5 years.

Sacred Sunday :: date night

 

   

Sacred Life Sunday :: the clothes I wear

long sleeve t-shirt from Target, hooded dress from treehouse28, stripey knee socks from sock dreams and Camper boots. 

I've always loved clothes. When I was fifteen, I began working in a sandwich shop part-time, so I could buy clothes. Reeking of onions and with avocado permanently staining my nails green, I'd work every weekend to buy the latest fashions from stores like Wet Seal. Those years were all about the preppy look and even though it didn't suite me, I wore what was popular, hoping to fit in.

During my 20's, I began to find my own style. I was in art school in San Francisco and most of my outfits were a medley of borrowed and thrifted. Part Goth girl, part super-rock, I dyed my hair black, wore white powdered makeup from Christian Dior and painted my lips red. Cowboy boots and cut-off jean shorts were standard, especially when my roommate and I were heading out to hear live music on Monday nights.

Entering the corporate design world, I had to tone down the funk and I tried to find a style that would work for work, but also express who I was. I didn't think Ann Taylor suits were a cool look, but with my parents footing the bill for new work clothes, I acquiesced.

Nowadays, I wear cute and comfortable. Once I graduated from acupuncture school, I began to wear jeans to work. I love jeans and I swore that I'd wear them as much as possible, once I was free from my white lab coat. Jeans with a tunic or dress over, is a favorite look that I've worn whether it was fashionable or not. It's my way to wear a mini dress without looking like an old bitch that lost her sparkle.  I love layers, especially short on top with something longer underneath. I think I own every shruggie out there, especially the ones I can find in Anthropologie.

Draped in memories, those garments resting in our spare closets and basement, neglected for years, are impossible for me to let go. Conservative clothing that might come in handy, even if I hope and pray to never set foot in a corporate environment again.  Ten years have passed and clearly, I will never wear these clothes (much less fit into them), again. I need to let go, I'm inert and can't let go.

Sacred Life Sunday: my sunshine

As much as I feel wistful that miss A is growing up, I adore this time in our lives. I love the person she's becoming. She's funny and impish and while these traits are not welcome in the classroom (ahem), I love that her spirit can't be crushed even if she has to be reminded daily, about proper classroom behavior.

My heart swells with joy now that we're able to sit together doing our own thing. I knit and A beads, something she loves almost as much as writing books. A's life ambition (at 6.5 years) is to be an artist. She loves to color and draw - she loves to write books and then illustrate the story. She likes to call herself an illustrator and I giggle inside; I'm quite certain I hadn't a clue what an illustrator was/is when I was her age.

Every night as we have lovey's before A falls asleep, I remind A that I'm the luckiest mommy of all, that somehow I scored the best little girl and she nods her sweet head in agreement. My girl knows she's loved and I think that that will be the strongest asset we can give to her. With love and praise the sky is the limit and I delight that miss A will soar.

My Sacred Life Sunday :: eleven

Today is my lucky day. 11 is my favorite number and I have this thing about 11-11 and 11:11. Tonight we have our final game of the season against a rival league. As a zebra girl, I must remain impartial but lordy, I want us to win!

So how does my love of 11, roller derby and my sacred life play out?

My first ever roller derby game was 2 years ago in Camden, New Jersey. Two of the Philly Roller Girl's teams were playing and after that game, I was hooked. I also wanted desperately to be a part of a league. My best friend H was having a blast as a referee and I wanted in.

Skating is something I've always done. Growing up in Manhattan Beach, the bike path is an integral part of the lifestyle and my mode of choice was roller skates. I would boldly skate in my bikini (confident i was), up and down the bike path during the summer and the rest of the year (properly clothed) as well.

When I moved to NYC, roller skates weren't cool; in line skates were everywhere and I got myself a pair. Living very close to Central Park, I took advantage of the loop's daily closing to traffic. I'd skate the loop 2-3x a week and the feeling I had soaring through the urban oasis that is Central Park was exhilarating. When we moved to suburbia I mourned the loss of wheels as exercise; cycling yes, but rolling around, not so much.

Once derby was accessible to me here in the burbs, I signed on. And in a lot of ways, derby saved me. Saved me from the  monotony of the gym (which I loathe) and saved me from falling into suburban complacency. I can be someone else on the rink - my name isn't Kristen and I'm not a mama or an acupuncturist.  Too often, my other titles and descriptions become my definition. On the rink, I define who I am.

edited to add: we KILLED last night! Final score: 118 - 68.