Fly

My husband has a severe case of cabin fever partially brought to a breaking point by watching the current Olympic games. As a former ski racer, he actually knows people there. As a man of adventure and a hang glider pilot, he won second in a national competition less than two years ago. An avid outdoor enthusiast, he has rock climbed, become a dive master, is a world traveler, and he can do anything.

Lately, this man has been increasingly aware that we ski little; dive twice a year, travel sometimes and we are older.

This ‘older’ definition means that we have a house, a dog, a cat, two car payments, new taxes coming in every month from our wasteful government and holy crow! We are adults.

This is an unnerving moment and everyone handles this realization differently. The first time I did I moved to Utah. The second time I dyed my hair brown and pierced my belly button. The third time I enrolled in college… again… Recently I decided to make sure I have a beer once a week and to give up smoking. It’s an individual moment.

My man has decided that a sport or activity is needed. I whole heartedly agree. I married a person who is adventurous and thirsty for discovery.

Rock climbing was proposed originally and to be frank -my fingers hurt when I think about the idea of participating in that venture; OOOooo… stretch little hands, get the tingle out.

Yesterday he proposed Paragliding. After a blizzard of pamphlets, websites and animated conversation, I am curious. My first reaction though, was a mixture of bewilderment (who does he think he married?? Aren’t I the one he is afraid to let carve the pumpkin) and wonder. Me fly? Huh.

I cannot say no because I have no idea. I might like it and I am more than willing to find out. Reader, do me a favor, the next time you meet someone, anyone, a friend, co-worker, future lover- realize that meeting that person will forever change how you see your abilities and possibilities.

Apples

Crush, crunch, crisp flesh breaks and the juices shoot everywhere.

I always feel violent when eating an apple. The sweetness (ooo pink lady apples... mmm....). I make a mess of it. Fingers sticky and in need of floss I survey the picked apart remaining core. I feel that I am six again. Eating is awesome when you are six and skinny and sun burnt. I wore mosquito bites on my knees and scratches from climbing trees marked me up to my elbows.

I grin.

Steady

Water… I picture water in my thoughts, relax and stretch. I am reaching; my ears straining, I will hear water. Slow breaths, quiet breaths, I am careful to not interrupt myself. I feel the flood in my ears, the humming of a head rush and I am by the Yellow River. The current is strong and deep. I hear myself laughing and turning, I see my old friend Chels, barking at the splashing and crashing, a deafening sound as the water breaks on the rocks we are perched on.

I return to myself and feel the muscles in my fingers, feel the tingle and I listen. The river is quiet in this area; I am reclined against the branches of a massive fallen tree, its trunk floats in the river and it is anchored to the shore with its roots. I come here to think. I like to watch the shadows of the thick over head leaves on the water’s surface. I like to run my fingers in the sunlight. The moist air hums with dragonflies, bees and flies. I am afraid of the water. The river is deep and strong. I draw my reckless courage from it. Sometimes the river fills me up and I have to run as fast as I can into the forest to get the energy out. It is life and power.

The last four weeks have been achingly full of tumbled emotions and chaotic choices. In response to the nearly unbearable stress building up; I have decided to try mediation again.

It’s been ages since I regularly practiced so I don’t remember the exact ways that one focuses into a calm withdrawn state. In addition, I don’t have a lot of quiet time to get to that state. My solution is that I have developed a couple of ‘mini’ meditation practices for myself.

I may have only minutes. Perhaps it is in the morning as I cuddle Charlie on my shoulder for a good morning hug, or the first five minutes when I get home and I sit in the car in the driveway. I close my eyes, place my palms on my thighs facing up, relax the neck, keeping my chin level and I fall into myself.

I am focusing on a remembered sound. Focusing on ‘hearing’ that sound. I have picked running water and my results are astonishing. If I remember, the best way to find mediation is to pick one thing, such as a sound, that I can focus my thoughts and my emotions on, and to use that one thing to pull myself in. Such as one would pull a boat in with one rope thrown to the dock; my rope is the sound that I am using to get to the dock, the dock which is inner calm.

I forgot the feeling when I back out or let go too fast. This happens with the interruption of a phone call or a timer. It is a shaky feeling and my feet and hands feel as if they fell asleep in the brief moments.

But I am steady. The tight emotions of frustration or my feelings of being overwhelmed and my resulting general aggravation have relinquished their hold on my words, sleep and soul. Steady. I breathe in the word, relish the word. Ah, it does feel good to be steady.

Three things

Yesterday, at the end of class, we were each asked to write an email to the professor listing three things you feel you must do before you die.

Disclosure: I am aware that this exercise was merely to make sure that we all understood how the online mailing system works and an email received by each of us is proof.

I am overly earnest by nature so I took a minute to really think about it and to give an honest answer. But Reader, I barely needed a full minute, because the three things that came to mind were absolutes and there was no hesitation:

1. I want to write a book.
2. I want to sell one piece of art professionally.
3. I want my words to be concise enough to touch a person in a way that changes their life.

Sometimes...

There is only one thing to do;
Paint your fingernails purple. The brightest deepest color you can find.

Path

Good weather

What were you watching?
What did you see?
Were you looking?
As rain danced with sea?
What did you think?
What were your thoughts?
Were you remembering?
Revealing in moments we caught?
Why are our words rough,
When we talk together?
Where is my best friend?
In this good weather?