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.)

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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.

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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?

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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!

Missing Ali Already

I'm thinking thinking so much. But breathing and feeling, too. Soaking up the snuggly dogs next to me on the couch (covered by a sheet to cut down on the doggie hair), relaxing in my nightgown and robe still (it's noon), and enjoying an orange and dancing fire in the woodstove. Also, Urdu music from Atif Aslam. I love the sound of spoken Urdu/Hindi.

My boyfriend's only been gone for five days. He's visiting his mom in India. She lives there half the year, and since he hasn't seen her in three years (nor India at all), he's there right now. And I'm so glad he is. I've wanted to visit India for years and years. I have Ganesh statues in almost every room, I burn puja often (but travel with a tasbeeh), and until recently, worked in an Indian restaurant for minimum wage just so I could be around the sights, smells, sounds, and culture of India. So, I'm glad he's there. And I'm also a little sad.

It's been five days since I've seen him. Today is our two month anniversary. During that two months, we've never gone three days without seeing each other, or at the very least, texting incessantly with each other. We already share almost everything. We work together well, we play together well. We get things done, we love, we cook, sleep, talk, dance, party, and rest, and walk our dogs ... all together. It's divine and pure and exciting and lovely and ... everything I want.

So why am I sad? Just because he's not here? My last relationship was a long-distance one. I know how to be apart. For months and months. Ali and I will see each other in T minus sixteen days. He's returning on Christmas. Isn't that the best Christmas present you could think of? Not that I'm really a Christmassy sort of person; I'm more into Solstice celebrations. But still. The significance doesn't escape me.

Maybe my melancholy is precisely because of that past l.d.r. I'm feeling a wee bit triggered without my man here. That's all. Just missing him. I know that he'd love to be here right now with his doggies and his love and this fire. Napping. Or reading.

Actually. Probably if he were here right now, we'd be having brunch somewhere that served Bloody Mary's. (Marys? Maries?) And then walking the dogs in some woodsy or beachy area for a couple of hours.

HEAVEN.

I went to Ali's house to pick up a couple of things I needed, and I just smiled and inhaled his essence throughout the house, and saw evidence of me all over. It was fuzzy and warm and made me think of all the reasons I love him and I'm proud of him all over again.

I'm getting to know his dogs -- my step-doggies -- that are staying with me while he's gone, more and more each day. Casey Jones leans against me and looks at me with soulful eyes. "When's he coming back?" And Banjo. Banjito. He seems the most unaffected by this short-lived transition. My own dog, Humphrey, is becoming excessively neurotic on our walks and harder and harder to handle -- making the walks WAY shorter than I (or the dogs) want them to be.

Casey Jones and Humphrey are growing ... not fond exactly ... but, I catch them licking each other, or wagging at each other. And they are willing to share the couch and the bed with me.

Our little blended family is growing in love for each other, and my kids love the extra dogginess of our days, too.

Have a happy holiday season! And I hope all your loved ones are close by.

Namaste.

I'm Off My Monetary Mo-Jo. Shit.

At what age do you start seriously talking to kids about money? I'm not talking about $15 monthly allowances, and "Well, you'll just have to save up for that Lord of the Rings Lego set," or even the generic, "We can't afford to play miniature golf and order pizza, I'm sorry. What about some homemade soup?" I'm thinking more along the lines of I have $106 in my checking account until the end of the month, and that's not paying my child care bill, or my daughter's school tuition this month. Not to mention gasoline and, you know, food.

I don't want my sensitive fourteen year old to worry and feel guilty for going to the school that she does. Her father and I picked that school because it was the best place for her. It was where we wanted her to go. (The fact that her father refuses to pay any portion of that tuition bill is frankly appalling and really shitty timing for me right now. Also something I'll never tell her.) (Equally annoying is that I don't qualify for any more than $60-$70/month tuition assistance because I make "too much money.")

I am not frivolous with money. I don't have much credit card debt ($2K). I do often splurge on organic produce, chocolate and olives, though -- totally unnecessary purchases -- and when my daughter comes home from school with tears streaming down her face due to homework overwhelm, I am known to cave and volunteer pad thai from Chao Pra Ya and Doctor Who on Netflix. (I haven't decided if that qualifies as an unnecessary purchase at this point. Therapy is therapy. However it works.)

When I was a kid, I knew that our family didn't have as much money as the next one. We always had everything we needed though: Hamburger Helper, Tuna Fish Casserole, hand-me-down clothes, and family dinners at the table. I watched my mom pay bills every month, peripherally, and knew that every month she very carefully chose which ones to pay, and which ones to only send a partial payment to -- knowing that with a partial payment they couldn't turn off services or repossess.

I don't remember my mom and dad ever discussing finances with us kids. And I don't recall ever worrying about food or a roof over our heads. And strangely, I don't remember ever feeling that my friends had it better than me. I just knew that was the way our family was. I didn't begrudge my friends their wardrobes, or big bedrooms. After all, I did get Keds, and huarachees, and Levis. I just got them six months later. When they weren't quite so cool. Nevertheless, I felt well-adjusted, socialized with my friends, and had money in my pocket for after-school chocolate bars. Life was good.

And when I got married at seventeen to my first love, I didn't mess around with a honeymoon or new living room furniture. I knew how it was. We shopped at garage sales, ate our share of Top Ramen, and borrowed family friends' futons, and worked full time.

So how about now? How much is too much information? Do my children understand monetary reality? Do they know we only have a hundred bucks to live on for the next two and a half weeks? (I'm sure they don't, nor do I know if that is the kind of information that 11 year olds and 14 year olds need to know.) Do they see the difference between their father's house and mine? (I'm sure they do.) And while it bothers me a little to see so much money spent on electronics for the kids -- especially when it seems through actions that new laptops and a PS3 are more important than education -- I am grateful that the children are seeing different lifestyles.

What I ultimately want is for them to be prepared for life after school -- when they have their own jobs and apartments. What I ultimately want is for them to understand that our choices around money have consequences. What I ultimately want is for them to know what to do when they only have a hundred bucks in the bank and a lot more month to go.

'Cuz I sure don't.

Homesteading Nostalgia

I was feeling nostalgic for my suburban homesteading days, so I thought I'd put up a few pictures I'd taken a couple years back.

I just put some of my meager savings into a deposit on some land in Costa Rica. (!!!!) Current plan is still to move there after the kids are out of school. Will start practicing self-sustainable practices now in anticipation. :)

Experiential Dance

Today I danced uncertainty, frustration, willingness, openness, letting go, surrendering, joy, concentration, trust, grounding, symbiosis, nurturing (receiving it), and connection with both the Divine and also my peers ALL IN ONE DANCE.

That's pretty amazing. Most days I only dance one thing.

At the beginning of dance "church" today, I felt the not-quite-frantic feeling I get when I think about life purpose. I danced "What's my calling?" "Is this my calling?" "What's my calling?" "I'm trying to find my calling." Calling, calling, calling. Like an echo, unanswered.

Then I sunk into the music and let go. Let go of the control I so mistakenly think I have. I surrendered to the Divine. "Use me as you will. Use me as your instrument in this glorious orchestra, to make beautiful music -- to dance and live my joy." I knew this was the only way to find that calling. Dance, let go, and surrender. Rinse and repeat.

See, now I'll know what it feels like to be joyful and living my purpose and answering my call, because I danced it already, today.

Giving myself up to the Divine Universe is scary, and I said to It today while dancing, "If you want me to open myself up -- to show up for work and play and calling, and more importantly, to stop being in charge -- You'll have to hold me up, be my strength, and guide me."

And it became clear through my dance, or through the portals of dance -- those shamanic dream gates -- that this was a dance all in itself -- this giving up control and letting go, the awkwardness and fear around that, the surrendering again (or despite that), the Universe's promise of support, but then my need to let go and trust that the support will be there when I leap. Like the flyers in Acroyoga who need to trust their bases. The bases can only do their job when the flyers are confident in their base's ability to do their job and hold the flyers in safety.

Today I was gently reminded that there will be dark places in the room/life where I dance, and in those places I'll need to make sure I'm paying extra close attention to staying connected to Source. Are my feet and hands touching the ground? Am I dancing the two halves (the upper and lower) of my body together? 

My two halves of my body don't need to be doing the same thing. They can be dancing the dance of one supporting the other, they can be dancing to complement the other, they can be dancing continuation of the other. So, 'No' to having to dance the same dance, but 'Yes' to being in synch with one another. Or, in this case, one half of the other.

The last two or three songs of today's dance set were (for me) about HOW to connect to Source, and to being nurtured. After I danced receiving nourishment, someone brushed against me by "accident" and I had a brief and lovely moment of connection, and then went back to receiving from the Universe.

Today, everything I needed, I received.

I'm still convinced, over and over, that things happen for a reason. I went in to Dance today with expectations and a specific desire to talk to a particular person, but that individual was not there. Had he been, perhaps my dance would've been far different. Maybe I would've been distracted by him and not have danced so much meaning in this one dance set.

In gratitude, I bow to the Universe. Namascar.

Why I Write And What Happens When I Do

I write to quiet the demons. The pesky ants that bite me and tickle my skin with their feet.
I write to capture dreams. To recall faces and emotions and what ifs.
I write to know myself.
I write to explore.
Myself.
And the world around me.But mostly myself.

When I write I feel luxurious. Like I have all the time in the world. Like I'm important and what I'm saying is so important I have to drop everything that needs to be done in that moment to write those specific words down. Or they'll be lost. Which, ironically, is true.

When I write I feel like I have something to say. Like I AM important. But sometimes I feel that what comes out of my mouth or onto the page is not helpful, not worth saying or reading. Ultimately I want to make a difference in someone's life, and I want my words to make a difference in their lives, but .... it doesn't have to. My actions can do that, too. Like yesterday. I had friends over, and I actually didn't interact much with them at all. But I provided the space for them to be able to connect and relax and feel safe. And THAT made a difference to them.

When I write I see birds, taking flight "to the world that is invisible and is sure of bliss." (from the movie Lady Jane) Promises, echoes, memories, callings. I see imaginary animals and dreams and thoughts barely constructed. I see the past and the future, but rarely the present. I need to remind myself to see the present. Because that's where all the parallels are. That's where the meat of it is. THAT'S where I should be writing from. From the present. Write what I see in front of me. That's what can help people.

And myself.

When I write I discover who I am. Whom I'm meant to be. I discover forgotten dreams. I discover stories in the leaves and hear whispers in the foliage. When I write I discover charm and grace and wit that I don't have in my speaking world.

And THAT is why I love to write.

To access that graceful and creative place that isn't quite so apparent in me otherwise. To reclaim all of me. To remember stories of other lives. Other meanings to things. A new perspective.




Why do YOU write?
And what happens when you do?