To get a dopamine “hit,” make something that pushes you to the furthest edge of your ability, where you’re not only focused but learning and perfecting skills…At first, depending on how addicted to mania you happen to be, the excitement-grubbing part of your brain won’t want to stop obsessing about over-the-top experiences. It will cling to its fantasies about the next huge thrill…keep creating.

As you persist, your brain will eventually yield to the state psychologists call mindfulness. Your emotions will calm, even if you’re physically and mentally active. You won’t notice happiness when it first appears, because in true presence, the mind’s frantic searching stops. In its place arises a fascination with what’s occurring here and now. Though this feeling is subtle, it’s the opposite of dull. It’s infinitely varied and exquisite.

The aftermath of a creative surge, especially one that involves a new skill, is a sense of accomplishment and increased self-efficacy-which psychologists recognize as an important counter to depression…you’re left with the happy fatigue of someone who is building strength.

Pay attention to this process, and you’ll see that the motivation to be here and now will gradually grow stronger than the cultural pressure to seek excitement. You’ll find yourself increasingly able to tune in to the delights of the present even when you’re not actively creating. When this happens, you’ll be on your way to genuine happiness: abundant, sustainable delight in the beautiful moments of ordinary life.”

Go be creative!!!

From O magazine, February 2012, Martha Beck

When we hear of someone changing their habits or lifestyle so dramatically we say or think, “wow, that seems extreme”. Yet, when someone has open heart surgery we don’t see it with quite the same extremeness. We seem to have been lulled to the fact that open heart surgery is almost normal, we all know someone (friend, family member) who has undergone this ordeal and it seems to happen with relative frequency. How many people do you know on a plant based diet?

Another fact that got my attention is that open heart surgery (bypass or otherwise) is merely a treatment of symptoms caused by heart disease. It is essentially a (rather large, painful and high risk) band-aid.  Surgery does not cure the heart disease. The patient is still sick.  Surgery has then prolonged the life of this sick person.  Why do we view radical eating habits as more extreme? Wouldn’t it make more sense to adopt a lifestyle that is healthy and sustainable (on many levels)?

The film definitely got my attention, definitely got me thinking. I’m not eating a plant based diet just yet. However, I can say that if I’m going to be extreme, I would much rather have it be in the way of health vs. disease.

That all changed two days ago when the conditions took a turn for the worse. The children were met at school by social workers and taken separately to new foster homes. The girls are at one home and the boy at another. This is the first time in three years that they’ve been separated. Neither are homes they’ve been to before. It is not likely that they will return to their aunt’s home (that of course could change as much as anything thing else). We are not sure if they are being allowed to attend the same school they started in just a month ago. (Side note: I had no idea this was even an issue within the foster system. Not only are children moved from home to home more frequently than any would like, but when they are moved they must go to new schools if they have moved to a different district (neighborhood). Are you kidding me?! Let’s make it absolutely impossible for these kids to get a foundation under them and have a positive predictable school experience.)

Currently their father is not wanting to continue receiving services, which is a sterile way of saying that he doesn’t want to drug test, go to classes or stay out of jail, in an effort to regain custody of his children. There is a court date in early November scheduled to severe his parental rights. Their mother is still in prison and due for release after the first of the year. She has been told that it would be at least a year before the children would be placed with her as social services wants to be sure she can handle the stressors of day to day life in addition to caring for her children. The children do not know this. The children are waiting.

Taking all of the above into consideration the social worker indicated to us last night that they are running out of options and asked would we still be willing to care for the children. YES! of course. And so, we are back in the loop. There will be paperwork to fill out, home visits to plan, court dates to follow. When we pressed the social worker for a time-line in our favor she hesitantly replied, “by the end of the year”. So, we don’t have four kids today. We aren’t buying beds, clothes or sending away for immunization records to register for school. But it is a possibility again. This time it feels like we are more of an option, then again it could just be our hearts pulling for these kids. Our kids.

What about the (much debated) “language” of love? And what to do when feelings of love and actions of humans don’t match? Loving someone can be easy, yes? Getting along through life with them can be tough. Is love ever wrong? Unhealthy? sure. but wrong? I don’t know.

We all yearn to be loved. We all delight in seeing someone’s eyes light up at our entrance. We all like knowing that someone has sought our attention, cares what we think, and has our back. I think we each have a desire to be known, and accepted. As a dear friend once stated, “I’m thankful for friends who know my shit and love me anyway”. I think it’s even deeper than that. It’s letting someone know your deepest thoughts and desires, wishes and dreams, weaknesses and failures. The love comes when the other person cherishes that information. The love comes when that person shares all of that with you. The love comes when you respect each other through it all. I think what kills love is when people stop respecting the information. When the people we’ve opening up to stomp all over our hearts or act like it didn’t mean anything after all.

A few decades ago as a teenager I had already come to a place where I decided I was done. Done. My heart had been broken, falling in love never ended happily ever after and I was done. Pretty jaded for a teen, but maybe that’s what the angst is all about. During this time I came across a book, I still have it. The title is, “The Next Time I Fall In Love”. It has graphs and insight on how we need to share on all levels equally in order to move forward healthfully in relationships. Basically the emotional sharing needs to happen before physical interactions, and the communication needs to continue at the same level of the “lovin’ touchin’ squeezin’ ” or else feelings get out of balance, people feel used, or possibly there is no foundation to build your relationship. This was fabulous information, and thus I kept the book to pass along the great wisdom to others.

Enter Jeremy Davis. A young man in search of relationship advice. Why he sought me out I will never know. But that’s how our story started. He found me during my time of relationship reflection, my time “off”. He was trying to make things work with another girl and wanted advice. And so I gave him all the advice I had at that time. As it turns out it was a whole train-ride’s worth. We followed it up with many long phone calls and a few heartfelt notes. For the record he didn’t follow my advice. He got his heart broken and I helped him put it back together. The rest is 23 years of history. We have history, we have depth, we have great love and respect.

After we had our daughter, Jeremy came up with a parenting goal for us, for her. Our goal is to love her in such a way that she learns how to give and receive love in healthy ways. If we can do that we will have given her a great gift.

Jeremy also said, “It’s not who you love, but that you love”. You heard it here first!

It can hurt to love and not have the feeling returned. It can hurt to love and not be respected. It can hurt to have loved and lose it all. Once you have picked up the pieces, dusted yourself off and continued down your path, don’t forget to love. Don’t give it away, or sell it cheaply. It is a treasure, treat it as such.

“I have many friends in New York who are not religious people. Most, I would say, either they fell away from the spiritual teachings of their youth or they never grew up with any God to begin with. Naturally, some of them are a bit freaked out by my newfound efforts to reach holiness. Jokes are made, of course. As my friend Bobby quipped once while he was trying to fix my computer: “No offense to your aura, but you still don’t know (swear) about downloading software.” I roll with the jokes. I think it’s all funny too. Of course it is.

What I’m seeing in some of my friends, though as they are aging, is a longing to have something to believe in. But this longing chafes against any number of obstacles, including their intellect and common sense. Despite all their intellect, though, these people still live in a world that careens about in a series of wild and devastating and completely nonsensical lurches. Great and horrible experiences of either suffering or joy occur in the lives of all these people, just as with the rest of us, and these mega-experiences tend to make us long for a spiritual context in which to express either lament or gratitude, or to seek understanding. The problem is- what to worship, whom to pray to?

I have a dear friend whose first child was born right after his beloved mother died. After this confluence of miracle and loss, my friend felt a desire to have some kind of sacred place to go, or some ritual to perform, in order to sort through all the emotion. My friend was a Catholic by upbringing, but couldn’t stomach returning to the church as an adult. (“I can’t buy it anymore,” he said, “knowing what I know.”) Of course, he’d be embarrassed to become a Hindu or a Buddhist or something wacky like that. So what could he do? As he told me, “You don’t want to go cherry-picking a religion.”

Which is a sentiment I completely respect except for the fact that I totally disagree. I think you have every right to cherry-pick when it comes to moving your spirit and finding peace in God. I think you are free to search for any metaphor whatsoever which will take you across the worldly divide whenever you need to be transported or comforted. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s the history of mankind’s search for holiness. If humanity never evolved in its exploration of the divine, a lot of us would still be worshiping golden Egyptian statues of cats. And this evolution of religious thinking does involve a fair bit of cherry-picking. You take whatever works from wherever you can find it, and you keep moving toward the light.”

That was taken from the latter portion of section 70. Bold emphasis mine.

The older I get the more “one-size fits all” religion is harder and harder for me to comprehend. Does that mean I have all the answers? No. Does that mean I’ve got it figured out? No. To me it means I’m open to the possibility. Consider the possibility.

It is a difficult thing to love your body.  I know of only a few who truly do.  This year I have worn a two-piece bathing suit (that bares my belly) for the first time since… EVER!  I’m 37, how did this happen?!  I look back at pictures and sigh because I thought I was fat THEN.

I’m blessed that my body works, my feet can dance, my arms can carry groceries, my hands can write. Yet, I often fail to appreciate those things.  When I was pregnant, and acutely aware of the power of my body, one of my mantras was, “my body was made to do this”.  Now I use the same mantra in spin class.  I was hit by a car when I was six years old. I spent three months recuperating, but I did. I healed to be a happy healthy kid whose body functions as intended.

We are so hard on ourselves, why? Wouldn’t we be happier if we accepted our bodies for their limitations, but worked within them to make them the strongest and healthiest possible? I think so.

You are young, vibrant, healthy. Love your body, you are beautiful!!!

The little girl and I recently returned from a trip out west. Due to a savvy case worker and a six hour road trip we were able to reconnect with the children over lunch and a playdate at the park. Let me say this, there are alot of things wrong with CPS and the foster care system, but any social worker willing to drive six hours (each way) with three small children in one day so that we could all see each other gets some kudos in my book. We drove from WA, they drove from CA and we met in OR. As soon as the kiddos saw each other they were instantly “best cousins” all over again. At lunch they were making potty jokes, giggling and telling stories. The youngest babe sat on my lap and ate fries. It was delightful. After we filled our bellies we headed to the park.

We lucked out and it was a fabulous sunny day. We had packed snacks, sand toys, sidewalk chalk, and bubbles. They ran, swung on the swings, spun around, shot basketballs, blew bubbles, slid down the slide(s), traced each other in chalk, hopped hopscotch, and smiled for the camera. We were able to savor this family bliss for about 2.5 hours. It was not long enough. I had to make a conscious effort not to cry when it was time to say good-bye. I knew if I started they would follow and that would just be bad all the way around. We gave them gifts to play with on the car ride back to CA, we blew kisses and the social worker made promises of trying to get a visit to NC this summer. And instead of my heart breaking while saying good-bye, it grew. It grew as only a parent’s (guardian, care-giver) heart can. It grew the size of four small children (including our own dear sweet little girl) ranging in age from seven to one. It was great to see them all smiling, happy and healthy.

It was good to reconnect. Aug. 10th is the next court date.

Today is a perfect example of why I should take a scale break. I weighed first thing this morning, as per above and the scale produced a lovely number, I was thrilled. Oh happy day the new plan is working. Then I showered, dried off, blew my hair dry and just before I got dressed I wanted to see that beautiful (confirming) number again. The second time around the number was increased by 1.5. *sigh* seriously?  Where did my fabulous number go? I had seen the second number several times. There is nothing magical about the second number. Hm… maybe that means there’s nothing magical about the first number either. And why should how I feel be dictated by a number?

Then I saw this quote and it made me think that my days on the scale may be numbered (no pun intended)

“Balance is what you find when you step off the scale”

Three pages of the packet they sent us was devoted to questions for us to individually answer about how we came to be the people we are today. It covered everything from “describe your mother and father, what was your relationship like growing up, what is your relationship like today. describe the homes you grew up in. describe your relationship with your siblings, now and in the past. describe what you like most about your spouse, and least. how do you make decisions in your family. how are emotions displayed in your family” and it went on and on like that for three typewritten pages.

We didn’t fill it out right away because JD had been unemployed and we figured it wouldn’t do any good to fill out the paperwork until he had secured a job. So, we waited until mid-January when his position at UNC came through (whoo hoo!!!). Because of that delay we had read the pages of questions several times and had time to ruminate over them. When the time came to put pen to paper, or rather fingertips to keyboard, we were ready. It still took me over four hours to finish nine pages of answers. JD finished a tad faster and had more pages (eleven if my memory serves).

With paperwork in hand I met with the placement specialist and turned in our “homework”. She promptly scheduled a home visit. *GULP* I was ill-prepared for her to be ready to schedule the visit. Between the paperwork and the scheduling of the home visit it all of a sudden felt like this was really happening. We could possibly be placed with three children. I was shaking. I shook all the way home. I was probably still shaking when JD got home that night. 

A few court dates have gone by in CA. No decisions have been made. No recommendation can be made until our home visit is complete. The next court date in CA is scheduled after our home visit, coincidence? Maybe, maybe not. We do not have four kids right now. We will not have four kids in the month of February. How do you raise your sister’s kids? Eventually you have to pass the home visit. Wish us luck!

If you aren’t going to the link I’ll go ahead and tell you, it’s a milkshake available from Baskin & Robbins that has 2600 calories with 1220 of them from fat. I feel a coronary coming on just reading that. It’s a huge (36 ounce) shake, but I’m sure I could drink it. How many people are drinking these with no clue?

For those who need a little perspective, according to Cooking Light magazine a woman 25-50 years of age should take in no more than 2000 calories in a day. When I had my last heart rate test at the gym my number was around 1600 to lose weight. In a one hour spin class I usually burn between 500 and 600 calories. That means that if I drank (DRANK I wouldn’t even get to chew it!) this shake I would have to work my ass off in 5 spin classes JUST TO STAY AHEAD of the calories. And that doesn’t even account for the 59 grams of SATURATED fat. I wouldn’t be able to have a cholesterol test for like 3 months!

I guess my point is this, know what you are using for fuel. Fuel, that’s how I’ve come to look at food most recently. Is what I’m putting in my body going to help me do what I need to do? Is it going to get me through the day? through the stress? through the work-outs? If I eat crap I’m going to feel like crap. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of feeling like crap.

Eat consciously, be aware. Even when you splurge, be aware.

P.S. another possible word for the year: Focus