Work In Progress

I feel like we flipped from winter to summer and skipped spring all together. Everything is suddenly green, I have mowed the lawn twice and all I want to do is get my hands into the earth and start planting things.  Each day, I "tour" my small backyard garden to evaluate the new appearances and there seems so much to do to get ready.   I can't help but to make comparisons to my life.  I have gone from "on long term disability" to someone waiting for the rehabilitation specialist to call (which I thought, would be quite quickly after receiving his e-mail that he would call....) to get started back to work.  Again, I feel like there is a lot of work to do!   Three times a week I Body Flow and Zumba my way away from the evil scale numbers; not yet where I would like to be; the summer before last's capri pants remain unbuttonable.  Combined with cutting out wheat and sugar for over a month, I was able to edge away from the number on the scale I had...

Week 1 to 7 of Inner Mean Girl Reform School (IMGRS) focused a lot on identifying the inner critics whose running dialogue keep me small, quiet, angry, disconnected, anxious, depressed and exhausted.  My Inner Mean Girls include: a perfectionist: who constantly whispers --you're not good enough--at anything--ever--start over or don't even try it! a superwoman : who takes on too many things and berates me for all the things I didn't do and forgets all the things I did accomplish a comparison queen: who tells me I fall short of everyone's expectations or conversely, that I am better than everyone and they are idiots a doing addict: who runs from task to task--growing a list that can never be accomplished--and that keeps me distracted and frantic and exhausted and unavailable an achievement junkie (close cousin to the doing addict): who sets innumerable goals for me to reach and when I do, blasts past that one to the next...

While I have a scheduled appointment to see my therapist, the email from the insurance company wanting a status update always throws me for a loop and I take a day or two to catch my breath.  There is still much I have to deal with surrounding return to work. Just the other day, when I was using my Goddess cards, the Goddess Kali dropped at my feet.  FEAR.  Kali had literally flipped out of the deck and landed face up at my feet while I held the other cards in my hands.  Once I read what she was all about in the book that accompanies the card, I tried the visualization----climbing a hilly path to a plane of vision where I meet Kali, see what I need to see, give her a gift and return.  I didn't get a lot from the visualization at the time, but that night I dreamed horrible dreams about being judged and feeling ashamed, about people wanting me to fail, about being unable to find things and stay organized.  I felt awful when I woke up, probably because ...

Enrobed by an inch think layer of ice, my back deck gazebo glows in the early morning darkness.  This has been one of the challenges with continuing my early morning practice of getting up before everyone else to have some sacred time to write or meditate---the morning  darkness.  Summertime meant taking my laptop to the deck, where the trill of birdsong and the gentle breeze across my arms caressed my senses awake---reminding me of the power of the universe---and the glory of being part of it.  Winter meant returning to the dining room where the warmth of the furnace and sound of the refrigerator running were poor replacements.  Still, the birdfeeder offered up a view of nature, albeit through glass the helped keep the connection.   Without knowing it, I had created a sacred place to work and craft and connect with myself and nature.  At this table I create and write and meditate (half lotus on the d...

I have quoted Star Wars before in some of my posts and I seem to be reaching back to one line that you hear a variation of in  each and every movie. "I've got a bad feeling about this." It's not so much the doom and gloom of the quote, (since every time someone says that, of course there is some imminent crisis to thwart),  but the intuitive nature of each of the characters that say it.  They know something is wrong---whether they have dropped into a trash compactor or are in the stomach of a space slug, each of them gets this "gut" feeling that something is not right. It's about intuition.   Faced with doubt about the likelihood of their undertaking, each character faces or braces for the bad feeling to turn into a bad thing. Nobody runs away. If you feel.....if you really deep down in your core...all internal voices saying, "THIS IS A BAD IDEA"....and we have the choice (ie to fly out of the slug's belly before ...

In 1999 I was teaching grade 8-10 in British Columbia.  I had taught for 8 years and was confident in my role, flexible in my planning and able to integrate new themes or material, growing and adapting the curriculum to the needs of the students as best I could. I had developed and executed on new courses for my district which allowed me to pursue my personal interest in Improvisation and Film Studies and I was feeling energized. In English class we learned to read stories for meaning.  We got to experience the power of words and learn how to wield them in space to create pictures and emotion and mood.  We talked about how our thoughts were important, practiced sharing them and considered how critically looking at our world was crucial to navigating it successfully. I read novels aloud, creating a shared experience with all students that allowed the reluctant readers to participate in a way they never could if...

I have been struggling to sit quietly and recognize what resonates within my heart...what makes it sing and dance and feel joy and light....I have recognized I practically glow in an environment of learning.   I've told this story before--but this is a quick summary for my IMG classmates. Returning to University at 34, a single mom, starting a Masters in Library and Information Science, (half way across the country from where I was living, but close to my family), I could not believe that my sole job for each three hour lecture was to sit, with coffee in hand, consuming, interpreting, assessing and questioning the words that filled the air with potential and purpose. Sometimes I would catch myself smiling for no reason, certainly not when deadlines piled up and papers were due, but in the stillness of the lecture hall, I felt it hard to contain the giddiness that bubbled in my heart. That was 13 years and one breakdown ago.  This feeling was rekindled when I tool my ...