Fifteen Minutes A Day--Dog Training #1

I accomplished my first at-home dog training session yesterday. Honestly, I hadn't the gumption to do it until yesterday, and even then it was hard to get myself to do it.

After a long hard day of massage clients, grocery shopping, finding room in the freezer and pantry for the ginormous boxes of things from Costco, and making dinner, I just didn't think I had the energy for dog training. But there was Ali, all ready to do his part, so I did.

Ali and Casey Jones from earlier this year.

Ali took one dog outside in the back, and I tried with the other in the living room--but soon ended up in the carport and driveway out front. It was clumsy and weird and not very much fun. At first, Humphrey  was so triggered and excited--thinking he was going on a walk (or car ride)--that I couldn't interest him in any treats. (You're supposed to use a "measured portion of your dog's meal" when training, so they don't get too much food.)

Kibble just wasn't cutting it.

So I switched to cheese.

Now I had my dog's attention.

But it was still awkward.

On the plus side, Humphrey seemed to enjoy himself after he figured out that we weren't actually going anyplace. So, for Humphrey, training is a WIN.

"Time with mom, activity, and cheese?!"

Humphrey at a north-of-Florence beach in August.

I'll try it again tonight. Trying it at different times during the day will be important, I think. I'm sure I'll stumble upon the right rhythm for us.

It's hard to train with other dogs around, what with their excellent hearing and all. Just locking one dog in the bedroom while I go to the living room, or backyard, with the other doesn't work. Barking and freak-outs ensue.

But what else are you going to do?

Ali had the idea to do Casey Jones' training while on his morning walk. But that holds complications, too. The third dog couldn't be along, so that means: not walking him, walking Casey Jones twice, or having me walk Banjo--leaving Humphrey home alone and distraught that he's not going on a walk.

The only reason Humphrey is semi reasonable about not going on walks anymore, is that I distract him with toys in the backyard. Fetch is a great tool for us. He gets super tuckered out and all pant-y after playing.


In addition to the training, we have added supplements, better food, more play time, doggy Xanax, and meals out of food toys to slow down their eating time and adding mental stimulation to their day.

Casey Jones and Humphrey are still separated.

The biggest two challenges this presents is: most notably, our family has less together time now. One of us (teen or adult) is with the dogs in the bedroom, and one is with the third dog in the living room. We have less time together, which majorly bites. Less cuddling, less quality time, less conversation, less chill time, and less...romantic time. Also less chore time. Things are piling up.

The other challenge is: the dogs are acting up from the change. Humphrey is now getting into the garbage. After many failed attempts, we now seem to have the advantage over him. We put the garbage in a bathroom, behind closed doors (which he opens), in the shower stall, behind closed doors (which he currently can not open.)

And Casey Jones (and sometimes even Banjo) has started barking from the bedroom.

Ali and Banjo at a recent camping trip. 

None of the dogs want to be in there.

And, unfortunately, the lot falls to Casey Jones and Banjo, because Humphrey gets so stressed in there that he starts digging grooves in the wall by the door knob. He used to just let himself out until we changed out the door handle to a door knob.

So far he can't open that.

I, quite honestly, am sad and stressed at this current set up. I don't know how to improve the situation, unless it is by working on it fifteen minutes a day.

Fifteen Minutes A Day, whose acronym reminds me of "F-ing MAD," is my new mantra.

I can handle anything for fifteen minutes.

Especially if it's only once a day.

When Organizing Isn't Enough

Whenever I get overwhelmed with things to do and systems to maintain and plans not working out and forgetting things and losing things and just not feeling like I'm enough, I turn to books.

Of course I do.

And this time I'm re-reading Julie Morgenstern's When Organizing Isn't Enough: SHED your stuff, change your life.

I'm reading it slow, and in sections, this time--actually doing the steps as I go. As opposed to reading through it in one go and saying, "I've read it; it doesn't work." Of course it doesn't work if you don't follow up with the actions required to change behaviors. Duh. But sometimes in my quest for Fixing It, I speed  skim through the hard part. The working part.

The book has prompted me to think of a current theme for my life, and to think of when or where my clutter entered my life. These together will help me get to the why of the clutter, and help me to only keep the things in my life that fall under (or contribute to) my current theme.

THEME

I think that for the past three years, my life's theme has been building up my romantic relationship with my loverloverman--solidifying it, growing it, loving it. I also have been continuing to mother my teenagers--encouraging them and advocating for their needs.

But just recently--in the last six to eight months--I've shifted my focus to my author business. I'm charged and ready to grow it and I've got game plans and mentors at the ready. 

One of my historical problems--"And I say one, because there are many"(Mr. Collins from Pride and Prejudice)--is in not utilizing my time and environment judiciously. So that, looking back, I say, "Damn! Why didn't I do xxx then? I had the time and opportunity then. Now it's way more difficult."

I haven't missed the chance to do xxx, but I've missed the easy chance to do it. I make things harder for myself than they need to be. Chronically.

I'd like to transition into a place in my life where I am joyously using my time on the things that matter to me--so that I don't feel like I've wasted my time, or worse, frittered away my time on unimportant things.

Instead of bemoaning that I wished I had all the time to work on my author business, I want to rejoice knowing that I am living my dream life right now. My schedule allows me family time, partner time, personal time, business time, hobby time, and a couple of days a week for secular work. My "day" job is only two days a week.

Therefore, it feels appropriate that my theme(s) are thus:

Career theme--Building my author business with joy, serenity, and balance.

Personal theme--Rediscovering joy in my authentic self.

Coincidentally--and serendipitous too!--my career and personal themes dovetail so neatly together that they feel the same to me. Finding joy in my work and personal life leads to serenity and balance in my work and personal life.

CLUTTER ENTRY

I think my paper messiness (which is by far the bulk of my untidiness) was a combination of (1) not having time to deal with the accumulating stuff, (2) the quest to be the practical do-it-yourselfer ("That could be useful someday"/hoarding hand-me-downs and not-quite-right stuff because it was better than being without), and (3) and seeing myself as a busy, important-type person.

Busy, messy desks also signified creativity to me somehow.

How could I be creative and clean?

When? 

After dissecting my life and trying to find out when the clutter started, as per Julie Morgenstern's instructions, I think I've pinpointed it to 2002, when I moved in with my now ex-husband. And the clutter has continued to this day.

My mother may disagree, but I don't remember being super messy as a kid. My room certainly looked cleaner than some of my friends'. And in my first marriage, despite moving multiple times, my office wasn't ever out of hand that I remember.

In particular, I remember one rental house in Kalispell, Montana with a sloped floor and cottonwood trees in the back. My great-grandmother's vanity table sat in the dining room/kitchen and we used it for a desk. The phone sat on top and the drawers held the phone book, pens/pencils, various supplies, and paper for taking phone messages or writing letters. It was rarely messy and I loved it. I was proud of the family heirloom entrusted to my care.

Army life after that was always pristine. It had to be.

The messiness of my second marriage wasn't paper, just "baby" and dirty dishes.

The house I lived in as a young widow was a little chaotic sometimes, with little ones and being suddenly single--but whole chunks of the house were clean and serene. That was my theme then--finding serenity and inner peace.

It was only after I moved in with my now-ex, and my first child started kindergarten, that the kitchen bar and table started filling up with papers--bills, receipts, documents, kids' artwork and schoolwork, et cetera.

After the WHEN, it was time for the WHY

I thought, at first, that in my quest to be a nurturing mom, I wanted to keep everything. That could certainly cause clutter, but it didn't really ring true. Then I thought maybe I was just pre-occupied and never could get to the organizing of it. But I'd hired organizers to come in and make everything great, to have it fall apart again within three weeks. So that wasn't it.

Did I not have the skill-set for organizing? No, because it was organized before 2002.

Maybe I just had too much stuff and it spilled out everywhere. Maybe a sense of lack prevented me from getting rid of the papers. But that didn't seem right either. I don't think I'd miss much of it if I got rid of the whole kit and caboodle.

What was my attachment to my clutter?

Before the mess was calmness, a little bit of loneliness, and a desire for a large family.

And then it started coming together a little.

Maybe the reason I had clutter piling up around the office and dining room was because I'd simply prioritized something else all those years.

My theme for thirteen years had been nurturing my family and growing romantic relationships. I just didn't have time or energy to keep my paper clutter at bay; I was focused on something else.

But now that my kids are semi-autonomous, and I'm in a refreshingly awesome romantic relationship, I can shift my theme back to reclaiming joy and serenity in my personal life and to growing my author business in joy, balance, and serenity.

What's your theme right now? 
When and why did your clutter start?

Next step from Julie's book is to seek out my treasures, and keep those. I'm looking forward to approaching my office with a sense of joy--finding those items that create that joy in me, and also those things that contribute to my current theme. Then, I heave the trash.

Do you see? It's the other way around in every other organizing book I've read--and there have been many. Usually one goes through and makes piles for thrift stores, recycling, and trash; then puts away what's left. But I think that going through and looking for those things that light you up is far more enticing than Organizing The Office.

Who wants to make time for that?

So seek your treasures then! 
Leave a comment about what you find. We'll do this together.

Doggy Dilemmas

Time for another seven minute blog post!

Since last I wrote, life took an unfortunate turn.

Two of my dogs fought again.

It was super traumatic. For me and the dogs. I only now feel partially recovered. I mildly injured my hand in trying to break up the fight--just stiff and a little swelling/over quickly, but I'm talking about the emotional trauma. I honestly thought they were killing each other. I knew with certainty that one of them would end up dead. I tried everything to get them apart. I even called 911, who patched me to the Police Department, who said that the Animal Control people had left for the day already. By the time they had called back to check in on me, I had miraculously managed to get them apart.

I'm not re-living the event in my mind nearly as often as before, and slowly feeling a little better every day.

They've been separated for over a week and this makes our home life more stressful. No more snuggling on the bed together. No more lounging in the living room with my loverloverman and all three dogs. Now we take turns sitting with them in different parts of the house, making it so that even the humans get separated from each other for stretches of time. (insert sad face)

At least the rigor of medications is over. Two different pain meds and two different antibiotics, two and three times a day, for two different dogs was crazy insane to go through. I've been to several vet appointments, with still one more to go. Humphrey needs to go in next week to get his stitches removed.

Also next week we start a new kind of dog training. I have high hopes for this time around. We've done others in the past with limited success. Loverloverman is right in pointing out that some of that "limited success" was our fault for not personally training them everyday (in addition to the two training sessions the professionals would come and do each week.) And this training will focus on changing dog emotions--specifically the problem ones: fear, anxiety, aggression.

We will be putting both dogs through training (a first), and both dogs will get personally trained by us every day (also a first). We will be changing around some of the things at home that cause extra stress for the dogs, hoping that will create a way for them to deal with their dislike of each other in less "rough and tumble" ways.

For instance, we will be installing a mailbox at the street. Two of our dogs go completely dire-wolf on the mailman through the window when he or she approaches the house mail slot. Why get the doggy adrenaline going and just cause them to be all fired up around each other? That's a recipe for disaster, right? With a mailbox at the street, no mailman at the house, no doggy freak-out, no running into each other, no fighting. Win/Win.

I'll blog about our training successes (or failures) in the upcoming weeks.

Look here for tips and tricks that might help you in your doggy dilemmas. Let's learn together.

A Day in the Life of a Writer

This post is not because I think my life is so super interesting, but rather because lately I've been wondering what other writers' days look like. And in my wonderings, I started looking at my own days.

My hope is that this post will spark others who blog to capture what An Ordinary Life of a _______ looks like. [Insert: plumber, ballerina, lawyer, landscape artist, et cetera.] There are always people who are interested in your lifestyle choices and how it works for you on a daily basis.

For instance, when I home-schooled my children, I poured over home-schooling/creativity blogs to gather ideas of what to do with my own kids at home.

Maybe it's because we are all voyeuristic and nosy, but the fly-on-the-wall-cam is one most people I know would sneak peeks at from time to time.

So, without further adieu, here's what last Friday looked like for me:

• alarm rang at 6:10 a.m.; hit snooze twice
• let dogs out; woke son for school
• showered and dressed
• fed dogs
• made lunches for three people
• checked the garden to see if it needed water
• made myself tea and toast; checked emails

Okay, that was the boring part. Here's where it gets more writer-ly:

• drove my son to school, then went to a coffee shop to meet a friend for chatting
• read a couple blog posts and articles; re-posted them on my author social media sites
• opened up Scrivener files and wrote on novel manuscript while I waited for my friend--1000 new words!
• visited with my friend for an hour
• went home and snacked; read a magazine article and Facebooked a teeny bit (Honest!)
• worked on a manuscript review for a client for two hours

I tried working in the office, but the dogs stood and stared at me until I joined them on the couch.

That was my "work" part of the day. Here's the crazy mom part: (Please note that my work day is considerably shorter than the crazy mom part, which begs the question, "If the majority of my day is spent doing one thing, how can I call myself another thing? I don't think my business cards would be as accepted if they said Valerie Willman, crazy mom.)

• picked up my son and his friend from school

my son, the plague doctor

• stopped at the farmer's market on the way home and picked up my raw juice order
• when home, called the vet because one of the dogs ate my vitamins and supplements that I'd set out to take that morning, and forgot
• vacuumed all the floors in the house--except my children's. You just don't go in there.
• took a ten minute break with wine
• greeted oldest child fresh home from school and watched them perform a dance routine they are learning at school
• lead son and his friend in a snack-finding mission
• unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counters
• fed the dogs
• started dinner
• texted with a friend trying to get a group of us to go to the movies that night
• watched oldest child again (different dance routine section)
• aided oldest child in snack mission
• checked on dinner
• started baking bread in the bread machine
• contemplated mopping the muddy dog prints off the solid surface floors but yearned for the hot tub long enough that the urge to clean was mostly passed
• swept the carport instead, and took out all the trashes
• wondered if I should clean off the dining room table, but--it being 6:00 p.m.--decided I was too tired for anything boring like that and yearned for Netflix and Hulu alternatives.
• Remembered the hot tub...and then that I was taking my oldest to a play a student friend was performing in, and that I still intended to henna my hair that night. Nix on the hot tub.
• Drank more wine in hopes of an evening plan forming.
• Acknowledged the swiss chard still needed to be prepped for dinner and silently whined to myself. I took another sip of whine--I mean wine.

Here's where I deteriorate into madness--but in a jolly sort of way:

• Craved chocolate; had a small can of peaches instead.
• Craved chocolate and ate two handfuls of chocolate sprinkles out of the baking cupboard.
• Noted that this was all because I wanted to get in the hot tub, but couldn't yet--hot tubbing requiring nudity, and nudity and driving my kid to the Wildish Theater didn't mix.
• Checked the chicken and rice again.
• Tried to find a game for the younger teens to play. They ignored me and listened to weird military cadences on their smart phones. They decided to give the Wii a try.
• I pulled the chocolate sprinkles out of the cupboard, because I hadn't actually eaten them yet, just written about it because it seemed like something I'd so. Recognized that since I hadn't actually eaten them, I could still make the healthy choice to NOT eat them, but told myself that since I'd already written I had, I needed to be true to the original sentiment of the daily entry, and ate them. (That's impeccability of word for you. Isn't that one of the Four Agreements?)
• One dog looked at me as if asking to go outside; I remembered about the chard again. I didn't want to make it. None of the kids would eat it, I was sure. Did I want to make it just for me?
• I let the dogs out.
• I went on a hunt for batteries so the boys could both play with the Wii.

This is what peace and quiet for crazy moms looks like.

• Closed the back door. Remembered my propensity for locking dogs outside and checked the house to make sure all three were inside.
• I marveled at the teens all talking and hanging out together without freaking out and smiled at my 14-year-old's deep voice, then worried that he said "bitch" to his video games too much.
• Checked the dinner again. It was done.
• Decided it was too late to make the chard. Felt lowly and guilty for not eating my healthy greens and hoped that my healthier partner wouldn't find out I ditched my veggies out of laziness again.
• Informed the kids that dinner was ready and convinced myself that my parenting duties were fulfilled for the day and I could be done. WooHoo!
• Closed the back door, because somehow it was open again.
• Checked the house for all three dogs again. One was missing. I let him in. He was looking in the window of the living room for me. <3
• Ate dinner while watching the last half of a West Wing episode I'd already started.
• Dropped off my oldest at the play.
• Knew that this would be a perfect time to henna my hair, but wanted to watch another episode first.
• Craved chocolate again, so I shifted from wine to hot chocolate with marshmallows. 
• Watched two episodes of West Wing waiting for my kid to text me they were done with the play.
• Washed dinner dishes and wiped counters again.
• Changed t.p. roll in the bathroom and took recycling out.
• Henna'ed hair.
• Picked up oldest from the theater.
• Sat in hot tub.
• Showered to wash the henna out.
• Went to pick up partner at airport at midnight.
• We visited a little, then brushed our teeth and went to sleep.

Imagine this, only at 1 a.m.

I was pleased with the day. It really was one of my favorites. I think this was because it was so well balanced. It was long, and I didn't sit down much--except for the West Wing part--but most of the aspects of my life were lovingly attended to. 

I was creative and worked on my book. I socialized. I worked on client work. I hung out with my awesome kids. I cleaned and cooked, looked after my dogs and garden, and still had time for personal grooming and relaxing. It was great! Here's hoping to re-creating that type of balance in future days. [sound of wine glass clinking with a hot chocolate mug]

What do your days look like?

36 Tips And Tricks For Writers, plus Why I Like Writing Conferences

First things first.

The best thing you can do for yourself, as a writer, is to WRITE.

Yes, yes. You've heard this a million times before, and I'm pretty sure the Universe will continue to send you this message. Eventually you'll start wondering why you aren't doing it, and you'll go ahead and flail through your next book project. 

It's worth it.

The second best thing you can do for yourself is invest in going to a writer's conference. I go to two per year, volunteering at both so that my cost is very low. Conferences serve writers in a multitude of ways. Different writers want different things out of going to them, and most are extremely satisfied with the results they get.

Here are the reasons I go to conferences:

• Networking with other authors and "book people" gives me a sense of belonging. I'm with my tribe. This borderline euphoric feeling I get carries me a good four or five months before I'm planning to attend my next conference.
• Networking with other authors occasionally rewards me with paying clients for my freelance editing services or manuscript reviews.
• I get to serve my community through my volunteering.
• I get to meet famous authors! Which, I have to say, is both exciting and fulfilling. And it really gives the famous author a kick, too! We're all people who crave adoration and external validation, after all. (Well, at least I am.) And, at the end of the day, reminds me that I'm an author, too. 

Gail Tsukiyama at the Wordcrafters Conference keynote address.

• I like supporting fellow artists, and when I buy their books and get them signed, and spend a few minutes talking with them, it just really toots my horn. Plus, it reminds me that there is a person behind these books we casually download to our reading devices or purchase with a click off Amazon. Or even buy from our favorite independent bookstores. A person wrote this piece of art and put sweat and tears and time into it. It humanizes the experience for me and pulls me into the reading in a different way when I remember that.
• I learn new stuff. Always. Even if it's just looking at a problem in a new way. Which is pretty cool in and of itself.

Case in point:

On Friday of the Wordcrafters Conference in Eugene, Oregon this past weekend, during the lunch program, fellow writers were asked to write down their favorite Tips and Tricks for the writing life. They were posted, quaintly old-school style, on notecards pinned to a cork board. I thought you'd enjoy seeing them. Maybe one or two will have a lasting impact on you and your writing life.

1. Find your way, but WRITE!! [Editor's note: See?! I told you the Universe would bring it up again.]
2. Recharge your batteries--attend Nanowrimo, Wordcrafters, Willamette Writers meetings. Talk to other writers. Listen, too!
3. BIG FUNKY HEADPHONES. Even if you don't listen to anything, people are less apt to interrupt you.
4. When at final edit, read sentences backwards. It will make errors spellcheck misses--as well as missing words--pop out. Otherwise, your brain fills in the right word and you miss it.
5. Make a binder with divisions for each chapter, then write your ideas for each chapter on Post-It notes and file with the chapter.
6. Write On! [insert "hang loose" hand symbol]
7. Don't worry about it. Just get it down on paper.
8. Read a lot. Take on the inspiration and write soon after reading a great one. Take on the song and sing, too. [sic]
9. Write first thing in the morning when you're still kind of sleepy. Ideas will be less censored. Your editor will take less hold.
10. Select a piece of music which really resonates with you, your current piece of writing, and play as you write, as a kind of theme. Inspiring music!
11. Think of the worst possible thing you could do to your particular character and DO IT.
12. When receiving notes or feedback, keep in mind the source (person) of the feed back. It may or may not be total crap. Or it might be just the idea you've been searching for; your key.
13. Eight minute walk every two or 1 1/2 hours during writing.
14. There are only TWO kinds of writing. Writing that works and writing that needs work!
15. Drink and buy books!
16. Give each scene a title, and use your software's table of contents to help you keep track of your scenes. Make the title as descriptive as possible.
17. Get off your phone and Facebook. :-)
18. See yourself doing it.
19. Write your heart.
20. Turn off the T.V.
21. I like writing in the company of other writers. It forces me to focus and there is someone present to bounce ideas off of.
22. Don't edit until later.
23. Write a minimum of 2,000 words a day, but never on Sunday.
24. At the end of each scene, imagine a puzzle piece. At the beginning of the next scene, imagine a piece that fits it.
25. I listen to thunder storms on Spotify while I write. No lyrics or rhythm to distract me and I can block out dog and kid noises.
26. Schedule my writing. I have a standing appointment with myself at 10 a.m. every Tuesday and Thursday. I write at other times, too, but I always keep my appointments.
27. Journal every day.
28. Pause during moments of passion to capture the feeling of the experience in words.
29. Dial up the tension! In every scene, infuse it with tension. If in doubt, add ninjas or zombies...pirates are okay, too.
30. Enjoy distraction to prevent concentrating too intently.
31. Talk to your characters in print. Ask them questions. Count the words in the word count.
32. Don't turn off the T.V.! You'd be surprised how the "perfect" word will pop up.
33. Get in a writing group!
34. Do not over-plot or over-edit on the first draft. Even if you think that your first draft is horrible, just get your thoughts down. You will have another opportunity to edit.
35. For a time, become the character. Act as he or she would act, be in the places where the character would be, dress like the character.
36. "Write drunk. Edit sober." ~Hemingway

•  And lastly, another reason I love attending conferences is sometimes I get to see my own book on the conference bookseller's shelves. Bonus! 

Grief Unites Us

I've been teaching a class on Healthy Grieving for the past month and today's class was the epitome of why I do it. And why I'll continue to teach this class at different places around my city, for different sets of community members.

Today was Essay Day. The assignment, two weeks ago, was to write their story down. We'd spent the previous four weeks telling our stories, and sharing healthy grieving tips, and talking about how other cultures mourn losses encased in rituals, but this time I wanted it written down.

For a writer it doesn't even need to be said that writing things down helps us process our emotions and figure things out. But this same catharsis and self-reflection is available to anyone who chooses to write down their thoughts and feelings about their grief, their mourning, and their loss.

Everyone in class opted to read their essay aloud and the variety was so interesting. Some wrote poems; some told their stories enveloped in non-fiction fairy tales. Some told theirs in chronological order; some read stories in the future tense.

One woman today even surprised herself with an anger she didn't know was there. She'd written her story in the form of a letter to her family. She didn't have any emotion while writing it, but when she read it, she cried. She cried for the little girl that had been treated unfairly and was made to grow up way too fast.

I've asked my students for their permission to share their stories with you. Each week--starting next week--I'll include a new grief story from among them.

It is my belief that when we read of others going through similar experiences as ourselves, that we feel a kinship. We feel part of a tribe. We feel less isolated.

And in a world of go-go-go, smart phones, and texting at dinner tables, we need all the tribe we can get.

Please check back for a new grief story each week, as well as my personal blog posts about gardening, permaculture, travel, or my author journey.

And leave comments! I love to read them.

Inspiration Strikes Again, With Gratitude

I've slated this morning--the whole day really--for working on client work. Editing. Typing. Editing some more. But I just feel so inspired lately. So many ideas percolating. One quick blog post won't hurt the overall day's intention. I'll get to the editing. I'll have to. It's the last day to do it. Deadlines, you know.

Yesterday I picked up a few magazines from the book store. I rarely gift myself with magazines. They seem so expensive and frivolous for what they are. Pretty pictures and full of ads. I could have bought two novels for the price of the three magazines, and they would've lasted me a lot longer. But I forget about feeding the Muse. I do need to seduce her once in awhile or she'll stop coming to play.

The only print magazine I subscribe to is Writer's Digest, for work. But Artful Blogging magazine, or Wanderlust, or Lonely Planet all could be "for work," too. Research. And, again, keeping me inspired to work on my novel and other writing projects.

I feel on the cusp of great things in my author business. I've got the correct mindset now. It's taken years, but with the help of my online mentor Joanna Penn from The Creative Penn, (She doesn't know she's my mentor) and my loverloverman at home, I finally know that I am living my dream life and working at my dream job right now.

You see, I kept trying to forecast what I wanted my dream job/life to be like three or five years from now. To work as if, but still knowing in my heart I wasn't there yet. I thought I was just "planning" and "setting goals"--which I still believe are important--but it was preventing me from feeling the satisfaction of where I already was. Much like the house we just moved into over last summer. I used to look at all of the projects that still needed to be done and felt like it was a never-ending heap of exhaustive shoulds on my shoulders.

"It'll never get done!" I'd privately wail.

But then.

I realized that our home, just like ourselves, was a living "document," if you will. It would ever-evolve, just like us. We grow and change everyday, and so would our home. Every few months, something changes on the house. We put up a towel-rack or a curtain rod. We hang more art. We paint another wall. We add garden beds to the front yard.

Like that.

So, too, my author business is a living and growing entity. It will change every few months to accommodate the industry and my growth as an author.

I'm already living my dream job in my dream life.

I still plan ahead. I still dream. But I'm so happy and grateful right here, right now.

What is it about your life or your job--right now--that you can be grateful for?

Please leave a comment below, or check out my website at valeriewillman.com.

Nostalgic Notes

As seen on a Whidbey Island walk.

I miss this blog. 

I've been writing over here and had decided to retire this Blogger blog. :-( But I love it here. It's so pretty and I know where everything is and the interface is way easier to use than Wordpress.

Maybe I'll ditch the other one and move back.

That might take some extra tech support, and some time I don't have to figure it out, but the idea is there! It may just come to fruition.

We'll see.

In the meantime, if you want to read about addictions to Netflix and sugar, or other shenanigans, find me at http://valeriewillman.com. 

Why I'm Not a Realtor

Not a house we looked at. This was in Seattle.

Looking at houses for sale on the internet is addictive. So is driving by them, and going to open houses, and pestering your mortgage broker dude and realtor.


I don't want to do anything else. It's weird. Like I'd imagine a junkie would act--only looking for fixes, not caring about, say: writing, learning more about Scrivener, paying bills, eating healthy, or going to yoga class. But maybe junkies don't do any of those things anyway.

Saturday Ali and I went to two open houses, and yesterday three. But then we drove around for hours looking at more that weren't open and peering in windows, striking addresses from lists because a house was in that neighborhood, or it didn't have a big enough back yard, or it looked too small for our needs.

After we got home, I went through another six pages of listings in the online version of the Eugene Register Guard. I've started a new list of drive by addresses, and one list for the realtor of houses I definitely want to see the inside of. Seriously, it's as time consuming as first setting up your profile and browsing the singles on OK Cupid. Or Facebook.

Of course, this is all very pre-mature, as are lots of things I tend to do. We haven't even met with the mortgage broker to see if we can, together, get pre-approved for a home loan. That's tomorrow morning.

Moving in together will mean big changes for all of us, but mostly not-so-big changes. While Ali likes and genuinely cares for and worries about my teenage children, he's never lived with kids before. I'm worried that occasionally he'll need a quiet place to time-out in (not so much different from traditional parents, actually), away from the noise, chaos, or drama teenagers sometimes bring--depending on the kid. I'm sure Ali worries a little about this, too.

That--plus our three large dogs, and my desire to garden and raise chickens--creates some unique (but not strange) housing needs. We're quite obviously looking for a large fenced lot. And we'll need a certain amount of separation of space in the actual living quarters, not to mention the general square footage required for four people, three dogs, lots of art, and myriads of books.

In our preliminary searching, we've found one in particular that we keep using as a reference. Do we like this house as much as the other one? No? Then, strike it from the list.

As with every home, even "dream ones" you construct yourself, there are things about it that are not quite perfect. You'd change them if you could. But, generally, the positives far out-weigh the bad, and that is the case of this "reference" house we've found.

The back yard isn't as flat as I'd like it, the location of the home isn't in my favorite neighborhood, and one of the bathrooms would rarely be used--given its location in the house. Which just seems wasteful. Other than that, though, it's pretty near perfect to suiting our needs. The property taxes are lower than in some places, the dogs wouldn't bottle-neck in the hallways, there's a great place for Ali to escape to, AND it boosts an artists' studio. With at least three artists in the family, this would be great fun to have.

And, in lean times, if I couldn't manage my rent downtown, I could use the studio as a place to practice massage out of. It has an outside entrance, and an accessible bathroom--one that wouldn't have clients traipsing through my dog-haired living room, or messy kitchen.

All in all, pretty nearly perfect.

But here I am waxing poetic on a house I don't know for sure if I can get a loan for, a list of eight other homes I want tours of, and twelve more I'm going to drive by. Just to see. They fit under the category of: Eh. It might be cool. But it might be too small. I can't tell by the pictures. And I don't even know where Myoak is.

I swear I could make a full time job out of looking for a house to buy. I certainly spend enough time on it--it's even bleeding over into my writing! Though pretty soon I will be sick of it, and will just take whatever house I'm looking at the time. Which is why I'll never be a realtor.

I Could

What to do with an unexpected extra afternoon of time?

Any number of things.

I could be productive in so many ways.

I could procrastinate by making another list under the guise of "time management."

I could call Writer's Digest and ask them to tear up the check I accidentally sent them for almost three times more than the monthly subscription was for. (I sent them my car and rental insurance money instead. Online banking can be treacherous--what with the payees being alphabetized and the teeny payment boxes so close to each other.)

I could do some required reading that I've put off for months and months and months.

I could figure out a way to buy Turbo Tax to do my taxes (but I don't have the $79.99 to buy it), or I could send my info to my accountant (but I don't have the $120 to pay him.)

I could keep eating chocolate.

I could email my ex-husband about the visitation changes I need to make for the summer.

I could mow my lawn.

I could clean my son's bedroom.

I could make a behavior chart for my son so he knows what needs to be done before he can play video games.

I could read my book.

I could journal some of my angst away.

I could make myself lunch.

I could write a real blog post.

I could update my LibraryThing and GoodReads wishlists with the new book titles I want.

I could put the last edits into the e-booklet I wrote about grieving.

I could do some playing on Pinterest  social marketing.

I could write my talk on art and processing negative emotions that I'm giving next month.

I could call a winery and chocolatier about sponsoring an event I'm hosting.

I could email my graphic designer and ask her WHY I still don't have the event poster I ordered at the end of March.


But I'm frightened that I won't actually do any of them, and then tomorrow I'll be complaining that I just don't have enough time in the week to get my things done!

How's that for irony?

Blah.

S.A.D. Tales and Renewal's Redemption

I'm struggling struggling struggling. Sometimes S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) gets the better of me and I just have to cry and stare into my Mini Plus HappyLite. I don't know if this actually helps, but it's something I can proactively do, making me feel a little less helpless. (Side thought: maybe listening to Gillian Welch isn't very helpful right now.)

Yesterday and the day before were lovely lovely lovely sunny days. I sat on the back step in full sun and soaked soaked soaked it up. And journaled. I haven't been journaling enough lately, and really feel the effects.

Journaling, for me, is code for "Checking In." If I don't check in with myself, I don't know why I'm making any decisions, why I'm facing a certain direction, or why I feel strangled/restless/unsatisfied. Checking in with myself makes a big difference in my centering and grounding.

Petting warm doggies on squishy green couches lifts my spirits, too.

Spring is around the corner and the evidence is everywhere. I'm really looking forward to feeling healthy and energetic again. This past Winter was more difficult for me than ever before--and I'm not sure why. I speculated that SAD was accumulative not only during the season, but each and every year. But probably that's not true at all. Probably it's that it was colder than usual with two ice and snow storms. Eugene usually gets one snow day a year; this time it was two weeks of snow days.

The Spring Equinox (happening next week) brings me a day of planning. Planning and goal setting for the year. Personal goals, business goals, family goals. Ginger Carlson, author of Child of Wonder, got me into doing this. One year my kids did it with me, and this year I'd love to have Ali do it with me. 

With the budding of newness in the very soil around me, I can't help but think of my own renewal. In the past three weeks I've made plans for my massage business, tried on new ways of thinking about myself as a writer, and created a new financial plan--including a new budget.

In these ways I'm moving out of my winterized shell and into the light. Quite literally. It's coaxing me out of my funk.

What I still need to worry about are my internal expectations. They say we are our own worst critics, and never is that more accurate for me than during the winter, or just coming out winter. Or just going into winter. (Ha ha.) I slow way down, I'm overwhelmed by tasks that don't normally confound me, and I fall off my exercise routine. Lots of things just don't get done--and one of those things is usually self-care.

Despite today being a low-energy day, and one where I spent a good hour in front of the HappyLite, and my continued efforts at not succumbing to a nap for the past three hours, I am feeling grateful for the future and the things I'm about to embark on that will change how I think about myself and how I represent myself to others. I'm grateful for my continued passion and love for my partner and for my continued bond with my two teenaged children. And while I'm currently stressed out about taxes, money, and having to move (or not--I'll know in a couple months), I will get passed all that. I know it.

May Spring bring you renewed energy, excitement, and health.

World Hijab Day 2014

Recently I decided to participate in World Hijab Day. On February 1st, people around the world (non-Muslim, and Muslim alike) wear hijab as a statement against religious discrimination. At least that's how I see it.

After making it known to a few people that I was going to do this, one close friend AND my loverloverman both expressed concern that wearing hijab could be taken as supporting a religion that, in fact, hurts women and forces the veil on them (in some cases.) My friend said the choice to wear hijab, or not, was largely based on geography. This is most likely true, actually. Which is shitty.

But I digress.

These responses (even before putting on a scarf) got me wondering actually why I'm really doing this. After some thoughtful moments in the car on the way home from dropping my daughter off at high school, and several more in my kitchen in my journal, I came up with this:

I would like to support women's rights to wear hijab, if they choose, without religious discrimination and fear for their safety, in the United States, because that is where I live.

Maybe I'm doing it because I can't support the women's right to not wear the veil in places like Saudi Arabia or Sudan, because I'm not there, and I don't know how to support that--except to not wear hijab. But it would look like I wasn't making any statement at all, in that case, because I don't normally wear hijab. Most notably because I'm not Muslim or an Orthodox Jewish woman--nor do I belong to any other religion or culture that covers their hair.

I had a negative experience with organized religion growing up. So much so, that for years and years (a decade) I abhorred organized religion of any kind, and looked upon anyone who would belong to one with disdain, seeing them as mindless zombie sheep with no intelligence or backbone. I lived the quote, "Religion is the crutch of society." I even wrote it on my bedroom ceiling with a black Sharpee so that I saw it every day upon waking and going to sleep each night. That's how disillusioned I was.

But now--despite still not wanting to sign up for the next rule-based club for God, I admire how some religions can do good for some people and communities. Can bring some people comfort.

And since I'm for peace of all kinds, I want my human brothers and sisters to be able to openly experience life however they choose--whether they are transgendered, grow their own food in the back yard, wear full body tattoos, or practice a faith that means something to them.

I certainly don't live the life of an activist. Frankly, it would be too hard for me (or on me.) And I'm not a political person. I don't know what role Congress or the Senate play; I don't know how laws are made, or why states can vote for a president but still not be counted towards an election process.

But.

I can buy organic or local food, avoiding Monsanto at all costs.

I can donate money to organizations that build personal shelters for the homeless population in Eugene (the city I live in.)

And I can wear hijab for a day, or two, in order to say something about religious discrimination in the United States.

Disappointment Feels Heavy in my Chest

Warning: There is nothing profound in this post. In fact, it's probably better if you don't bother reading it.

I get stuck on what to write a lot these days. It's easier to watch someone else's stories on the screen, or to read someone else's words in a book. It's easier to market my book, instead of writing a new one.

It snowed today. And instead of being cozy and knitting or reading or blogging, or glorying in the unexpected day off to play (or even to be accomplished), I felt bad. I cried while watching Little Women. I felt orphaned. Abandoned by family. Some not in a malicious way (perhaps none of them in a malicious way), but I felt lonely all the same.

My mom and my sister (and her family) live in Minnesota and I only hear from them sparingly, every few months or so; my dad (and his family) live not more than an hour away, but I only see him once a year on xmas eve, presumably because he can't be bothered any other time. He and his wife have a new roommate that I only found out about today when he confirmed he would *not* be joining us for our traditional xmas eve gathering because it would just be logistically too inconvenient. And then there's my other sister. The one in Wyoming. The one that stopped talking to me six years ago. For religious reasons, she said.

I asked my friend today if it was wrong to wish your family were different than they were. She said, No. When I said that it felt like I was giving up on them, she said, you can't give up on someone who won't engage.

It's not that they won't engage (except for Wyoming Sister), it's that they don't engage in the way that I want them to. Isn't that loving them conditionally then? "I'll only love you if..."? I keep coming up with excuses for them, or repeating to myself what they tell me. And my mom did just call me last month out of the blue and talked to me on the phone for two hours, when I know she hates talking on the phone, and then we followed up via FB chat last week for a couple of minutes. Another friend said that I don't need to make excuses for them, I need to just let the sad and disappointed pieces of me talk.

Maybe there is something to just accepting that they aren't who I want them to be, and not trying to get more out of them. I should just love them the way they are and get my emotional and familial needs met by others. Who'd want to be around or talk to anyone who is disappointed in you anyway? That way just leads to more hurt. Plus, I'm not the greatest at keeping in contact either. And what's with my whining when I miss them? Why don't I contact them when I think of them, instead of bemoan our separation and wonder why they don't contact *me*?

My children are home, but as teenagers they most often prefer the solitude of their bedrooms and YouTube, and my loverloverman is still in India (due home is six days!) Combining that with my geographically and emotionally absent family members, I feel understandably melancholy. Suddenly the dishes and making dinner look way more difficult to approach than normal.

Why Did I Dream That Dream?

Perhaps the Carrie trigger wasn't the Facebook page, or the pajama pants, but The Girl's Guide to Homelessness.

Call me a glutton for punishment, but I think I want to try contacting my sister again. The one from Wyoming. The one that said she didn't want to talk to me anymore because Jehovah didn't want her to. That was four or five years ago. My other sister and my mom say, "Don't bother. You'll just hurt yourself."

Call me a glutton for punishment.

Maybe it's because last night I wore the pajama pants that she gave me. Or maybe it was because I found myself on her public Facebook page, and saw the Friend Request Sent button from last year that she still hasn't answered. Or maybe it was the conversation I had with my best friend yesterday about unresolved family issues. But I dreamt of her last night -- my sister.

I was at a swimming hole with a big group of people. She was the only person I knew, so I gathered my resolve to speak to her, and she ignored me. To my face. Like she didn't even hear me. She blanked me. Even while I cried and pleaded with her, she avoided my gaze. A woman next to her saw me crying and checked in.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"She won't talk to me. This is my sister, and she won't speak to me."

The woman looked at Carrie and only then did she feel pressured enough to converse.

The rest of the dream consisted of her telling me why she no longer wants communication, and me trying to re-phrase her words to make sense of her logic. I kept getting distracted, following her around, and I never did understand before I woke up. The only other part I remember with any clarity was a partial sentence.

"I barely have enough ... as it is ... own family ... things I need to do ..." -- insinuating that she just didn't have time to have a sister.

And then this reminds me -- now awake -- that when invited to family gatherings when the children were little, my dad would claim that same excuse for not attending. And now that he's retired, the children are less interested in hanging out with Grandpa when there is Minecraft to be played, or manga to be drawn. He's too late. And I grieve that.

I wonder if he does.

I don't suppose the children do. How can they miss something they never got used to? But then, how can I miss it? Is it really just a case of preconceived notions? Am I thinking only of how I want things to be? Why am I hung up on this? Why can't I be satisfied with the way things are?

My other sister and mother live in Minnesota and so are not available for Scrabble, or cleaning house together, or Sunday dinners. I miss them dreadfully, but at least they respond when I email or text them.

Maybe I'm being unreasonable. Obviously my family life is not going to be Little Women -- which, by the way, is the movie I compulsively watch when I miss my family (especially my sisters.)

Maybe my expectations are too high.
Maybe my idea of what family is, is warped.
Maybe I'm being unfair.
Maybe my family tries as much as I do to stay connected.
Maybe, in the spirit of diversity, my values around family are different than theirs -- so that wouldn't be wrong on their part, just different.

This puts the blame (self-correction: responsibility) back on me, where I'm comfortable with it, like a pair of shoes that don't hurt my feet, but still have holes in them. It's something I need to get over. They're doing nothing wrong. My pain is my own doing, and therefore something only I can take care of.

Right?

I must not be doing a very good job of it though, because this family abandonment/self-worth issue keeps coming up for me. I re-visit it once or twice a year.

And because I've been up since the wee hours of the morning writing, and thinking -- and even dreaming -- about this, somehow (in my mind) self-worth segues neatly into The Girl's Guide to Homelessness.

I found the book in the community library at Osa Mountain Village on the Costa Rican vacation I just got back from last week.

It's a memoir about a late-twenties, almost-well-adjusted woman that loved her full-time job, but got laid off, had nowhere to go, and became homeless. Coincidentally, she was raised Jehovah's Witness.

It was a highly triggering book for me because, for the first time, I could see what my old religion looked like from the outside.

It's one thing for me (an ex-JW) to witness Carrie's choices (who is still a JW) and make excuses for her, while not liking her actions. And it's another thing for people like my father, who tolerated his wife's religious choices because he loved her. But it's a whole new ballgame when the uninitiated observe JW idiosyncrasies, especially when they are written about in matter-of-fact journalistic fashion. Then you can see the raw cult-ish qualities frothing at the surface, and you worry about the riptides hiding underneath.

But this doesn't explain why I want to contact Carrie. To try again. One more time. To leave the door open. To reinforce the bridge. To let her know, that if she ever feels she wants to contact me, but can't, because:

"It's been so long, she'll hate me."
"It's been so long, I wouldn't know what to say."
"It's been so long, we probably have nothing in common anymore."

-- or whatever she might be thinking -- to contact me anyway. Except it does explain it. And if you ever read the book, you'll know why.

I'm willing to talk, to re-connect, to remember, and forget. I want to contact her again because I keep thinking that if I could only say it right, convince her -- she'd love me again. Enough to be my sister again. To accept me. To give me back my nieces and nephew. To give back my children's cousins.

A small voice even says, If I was only good enough, she'd want me.

So I keep trying.
Ad nauseum.
Because if I give up on her, then I'm giving up on us, and maybe someone, somewhere, at some time, would give up on me.

And that I couldn't bear.

***

After all these years, why did I dream that dream?

Best Friends Can Cure Writer's Block

I'm suffering from perfectionism. It's showing up as writer's block. Sort-of.

While I go about my day, I think of topics to write about, but don't jot them down, and then -- of course -- forget them. But in addition, I just want my blog posts (and essays, and book chapters) to be GREAT, so I don't end up writing them at all. Because ... they won't be great.

It makes perfect sense.

And I know what to do about it.

Just write shit.

I need to remind myself (on a frequent basis apparently) that I am allowed (encouraged even) to write badly. Just to get it on the paper. And then I can edit.

I went on this really great vacation with my honey ...

... so you'd think I'd have plenty of fodder to write about. And I do, but I want it to be great travel writing, not my diary. Sigh. But, again, then I just don't write anything. And that's just stupid.

So. This blog will just be my diary. 

There.

I just gave myself permission to write whatever comes to mind. Whatever is important to me that day. And today it's this:

**

I visited with my best friend today. First time in a few weeks. It was superb. She brought her ukelele and played music while I made lunch, and then I gave her a massage. We talked about relationships, music, gardening, community living, Costa Rica, what we'll do when our kids are older, weight gain, and old times.

She's inspiring, and I hope I am still best friends with her when we are both 82.

**

An Ode to Lists (but not in ode format ... if there is one)

When I get overwhelmed, I return to lists. They're just so orderly.

My house is a lovely size for my needs. Maybe a tad too big. But very manageable. Truly, it's the easiest of all the places I've ever lived to clean. Perhaps that might be because of my partial ability to let go (mostly) of my attachment to what my children's rooms look like. Or maybe the kids make less mess as they get older. (Which I don't really believe.) Probably it's that the kids' messes look more and more like mine every year, and I can't really decipher whose mess is whose, and I just imagine it's mine.

Everything is just the right size to easily keep clean. And "out of hand" in this house means two days in a row of not doing the dishes. And even after two days, cleaning the kitchen takes fifteen minutes. So no big deal anyway.

Except.

Except when there are contributing factors that prevent my innate kitchen-cleaning skills to kick in. Or the one that allows me to pick things up and put them away as I walk through the house, heading towards doing something totally different. That skill doesn't kick in either.

Things that slow me down and contribute to small messes piling up into gargantuan mountains (at least in my eyes)?

Not getting enough sleep.
Being cold.
Hunger.
Where I am on my moon cycle.
If I've argued with my children.
If I've argued with my ex-husband.
If I have a deadline looming.
If my kids have a deadline looming.

Or sometimes ... just because it's winter.

It's especially bad when it's ALL of those things at the same time. Like it was the other day.

So I turn to lists.
Somehow creating a list helps me to feel like I'm accomplishing something, doing something constructive. It's a baby step to actually getting the thing done.

I list
therefore
I can accomplish.

Holiday Letter 2012

Talk about cross-posting ...

This is the holiday letter that my kids and I wrote to mail out whenever we bought stamps. (We have decided to call them January Letters.)

***

Greetings!

We are attempting our first ever Holiday Family Letter, especially geared towards those of you we love that are far away. We’d love to catch you up on our shenanigans.

First off WE LOVE YOU and MISS YOU. That’s the main reason we are writing you.

Aubrey has braces now, and started Tae Kwon Do again. She just earned her yellow belt. She’s in 8^th grade and we’re trying to find the perfect high school for her artistic talents, and one where she will thrive.

She’s still taking Japanese lessons, loves anime, manga (her new favorite series is “DRRR!!”), drawing, reading, wearing black, and skeletons. She loves music, but nothing girlie. Case in point: in this year’s school talent show, she’ll be singing either “Leave out all the rest” by Linkin Park, or a Japanese song. She still loves Harry Potter. She’s dreamy, elegant, dark and talented. I love her so much.

Robert says he’s doing “pretty good,” and is fitting in at school, which he says is “very nice.” He loves video games (“Of course, ‘course, ‘course!”). His current fave is Minecraft. If he has to read, his favorite is The 39 Clues series. He’s finished the first whole series and has moved on to the next series (within the series.) 39 Clues: Cahills vs. The Vespers. A Garfield connoisseur, he’s recently moved on to Calvin and Hobbes.

He has a permanent retainer; his braces came off years ago. He’s a 6^th grader at a charter school that has a combined elementary and middle school that keeps the same teacher two years in a row. He’ll get a new teacher for 7^th and 8^th grade. He still doesn’t like to brush his hair and gets only one hair cut a year – a buzz cut during Spring Break. He still likes Legos, and still wants to paint his room grey (it’s bright yellow right now).

He’s funny, curious, quirky, and compassionate. I love him so much.

They both play Dungeons and Dragons with their dad and friends weekly.

~~

We’ve been in our rental house for a year now. It’s a cozy and lovely fit for us. We’re planning to get back to some suburban homesteading this summer: gardening and chickens.

Valerie just got a new job using her massage therapy license finally – at Chi Spa (a place specializing in Chinese massage, reflexology, and detox techniques – like FAR infrared saunas and ionic foot baths.) She’s been building up her editing clientele with Yellow Pen Editing ( http://valeriewillman.com ), and continues to facilitate and co-chair the Mid-Valley chapter of Willamette Writers’ monthly meetings. She also has a work/study position with the Bikram yoga studio in town, and has a weekly yoga and ecstatic dance practice. (She recently treated herself to a blind contour drawing/writing class “just because.”)

Her biggest and most heartfelt news is there’s a new relationship in her life – a Turkish man named Ali who writes for a living, collects art, loves dogs, and has a great laugh.

She’s put money down on an acre of land in Costa Rica, and plans to move there full time after the kids are out of high school. Aubrey says she’s looking forward to visiting on college breaks and Robert said he might live there “if it’s cool.”

Merry Christmas and Happy Solstice. We, today, just hiked to the top of Mt. Pisgah in Eugene, Oregon to watch the sunrise on the shortest day of the year – the beginnings of a new tradition? We’ll see. 

May you find loads of peace and joy this coming year. We’d love to hear from you.

A Time of Transition Requires a New Name

This blog started back in 2008 as a mommy blog. Or, more accurately, a place to compile the insanity of my life -- specifically with my son's undiagnosed PDD-NOS, and the unschooling/homeschooling adventures I had with him, and his sister.

The blog was aptly named Insane Parents Unite!

But now my kids are in middle-school. And you can't even buy parenting magazines geared towards kids that old. Not to mention that both my children refuse to be photographed, and what fun is a blog post about teenage angst, hunting for high schools, or the continual battle of limiting video gaming time when you can't even add a picture?!

Grumblegrumble.

So I changed the blog title to Indian-flavored Everything because I love all things Indian, was dating an Indian man, and I was running out of kid topics. (Which isn't really true, but whatever.) I still want to write about my favorite Bollywood movie, and the trip I'm dreaming up for Kerala with my new guy, but I also want to write about homesteading and reading and parenting older kids and cross-cultural dating. And hopefully in an artful-heartful way so that I may bring some joy to the soul along the way.

So now what do I call the blog?

***

And now for something not-so completely different ... I will be starting a BRAND NEW BLOG within the next month (in addition to this one). Something along the lines of Eco Expat. I've bought some land in Costa Rica at an Eco Village (off the grid, self-sustainable, intentional community) and I want to chronicle my experience of readying myself for life in a foreign country, earning income in a foreign country, learning a new language, practicing my homesteading skills -- plus all the logistical things I didn't anticipate happening but I'm sure will.

Stop by here for a link to the new blog.

Pura Vida!

Dream Dissonance

Instead of wishing and wanting N to be here RIGHT NOW so he could cook me biriyani and snuggle with me, I will dutifully (with love and accountability) call upon those feelings I had this morning in the office I share with Brittany -- energy worker extraordinaire.

I discovered today.

I acknowledged in my body today.

I felt a Truth rise up in me today.

I knew a felt sense today.

After my lovely energy session was almost complete and I was relaxing and breathing deeply and without panic for the first time in weeks, B took me through a couple of meditative visuals. Halfway through the second one, I spilled over with tears, and continued to be highly emotional during the next ten minutes while I explained what had happened internally for me.

We often discuss what the body does, or says, during sessions.

Here's a WILDLY ABRIDGED version of the visualization exercise:

• Imagine the soles of your feet in contact with soft earth. 

(I immediately thought Costa Rican soil and saw huge green leaves coming up from the ground at the base of a giant tree. It was in this soil that I imagined my feet.)

• Feel the earth energy entering you from the soles of your feet, through your gates, into your calves and shins, past your knees ....  

(I could actually feel a tingly rushy feeling going everywhere she led me. I felt content and joyful, and all of a sudden I knew. Costa Rica would be good for me. A place of healing and good energy.)



She continued leading the earth energy up my body and when it reached my center -- my womb -- I could see the little light zipping around and joyfully doing figure eights around my belly. (I would find joy and healing and nourishment in Costa Rica.)

And.

I started crying.

I struggled with the earth energy going higher through the upper chakras. It did. It was dimmed and not so joyful, but it made it.

I struggled with feelings of un-worthiness.

Was I crying because I felt like Costa Rica was the right place for me, but that it might not be for my kids and I can't get there yet, until my kids are grown up? Was I crying because I didn't feel worthy of obtaining/attaining this dream, when I should be focusing on my kids' dreams?

Or was I crying because I felt unworthy of earth energy? Maybe because I was blocked in one of those chakras? Or because I wasn't worthy of feeling joy? (GASP)

I don't know the answer to any of those questions.

Then or now.

B's hypothesis is that I've been disconnected from Earth energy for a long time and I was reunited with it today. That I felt joy and longing for it today. And the tears were a mixture of relief, love and longing.

That rings true, too.

When I asked her what to do with it, she just said 'sit with it.' Let it be there. (Of course she did.)

I'm concerned that since I wasn't able to process those feelings right after the session (due to a business meeting) that the impact -- the import and impact -- are missing now.

This is a faithful accounting of what happened at the session, but the ... longing and relief ... are missing.

I wish I could re-capture that ... in case there were extra messages there for me.

I feel like I have the clarity now that Costa Rica is definitely that place I need to be. And that it will be good for me there. Being with nature in that way will be healing for me, like the island was for that character in Lost that didn't have cancer as long as she was there. Eventually I will live there. I know it now.

But what about that other part?

The part about Costa Rica being my longing, and not my kids' dream. And the dissonance of having a dream that is different from theirs. And when is it okay to act on a dream that is in contrast to your family's? And how do I go about doing that in a safe and respectful way?