Accessible Ayurveda: Autumnal Equinox

And just like that, it's nearly fall.  It certainly feels like autumn in Seattle.  Our season change arrived over the weekend, a few days ahead of schedule.  I bought one more half flat of berries at the farmers market on Sunday, since my calendar says it's summer until Friday.  But mother nature had other plans, and with an onslaught of rain and cool temps, eating blueberries feels a little silly.  Time to find a good muffin recipe.

Actually, bread is an ideal food for fall.  It falls into the sweet taste, which carries over from summer.  But unlike the season we're leaving, during which we pair sweet with bitter and astringent, the foods that keep us nurtured in autumn are sweet, sour, and salty.  And the way we approach sweet changes.  Instead of cooling the body with lots of berries, watermelon, and cucumber, we want to warm the body with breads, rice, dates, meat, and cooked apples.

We can bring in salty with foods like seaweed or cured meets.  Sour tastes belong with citrus, yogurt, cheese, and fermented foods.  Pickling is actually pretty quick and easy, and a great way to preserve much of the abundant produce coming out of the earth right now.  Cucumbers are probably the most familiar to us as pickles, but you can be really creative.  Beets, radishes, carrots, cauliflower, beans...go ahead and chop them up, stuff them in a jar, and add a vinegar mixture!  I tried a cold blend on Sunday, which was even easier than the usual stovetop water and vinegar concoction I usually use. 

Pickled Cucumbers (modified from blessthismessplease.com)

3 cup water

1 cup rice wine vinegar

3 tsp salt

1/3 cup organic sugar

6 cups sliced cucumbers

Stuff cucumbers into a 1/2 gallon mason jar.  Stir water, sugar, vinegar and salt to blend.  Add to cucumbers to cover fully.  Cap your jar and store in the fridge.

The foods we eat are one of the most important ways to shift our approach to wellness throughout the year as seasons change.  I've written before about my favorite kitchari recipe, an ideal food to prepare while transitioning seasons. But there are other ayurvedic concepts beyond food that inform how best to nurture our bodies.  Generally speaking, we want to understand the qualities of the season we're in and find balance in our own bodies.  As we move from the heat of summer to the blustery, cool winds of autumn, we do well when we ground and stabilize our energy, slow down, keep warm, and follow a routine.  If you practice yoga, you can consider shifting your focus to slow flow, long savasanas, and balancing breathing work.

Want to learn more?  I regularly weave seasonal themes into my yoga classes and offer one-on-one wellness sessions.  If you're in the Seattle area tomorrow, join me at the Riveter Capitol Hill for Wellness Wednesday.  In my workshop Accessible Ayurveda - Summer to Fall, I'll be exploring this week's seasonal transition in more depth.  And finally, don't forget to celebrate the autumnal equinox this Friday!  

Balancing Productivity and Rest for Summertime Wellness

Our bodies are intuitive, but for most of us, we've become skilled at tuning out.  We try and push through a mid-day energy slump, ignoring the body's cues that it needs a recharge.  We're not designed to function at the same speed all day, all month, or all year long.  The concept of a cyclical rhythm is especially true for women.  As I recently learned from a fascinating workshop with Nicole Negron at the Riveter, female hormones are designed to ebb and flow in a cycle that affects our ability to function the same day in and day out.  

All humans are healthier and more resilient when we pay attention to our natural daily and seasonal shifts.  Especially in summer, rest is key to maintaining wellness during the hot months and into autumn.  In Ayurvedic terms, summer is pitta season, blending elements of fire and water. Each day has a pitta time too - around noon.  We find ourselves out of balance when the activities we choose increase the qualities already present in the season and time of day.  So, if mid-day we go take a run in the hot sun, or continue to work ambitiously during lunchtime or throughout the entire summer without a vacation, we increase our internal heat.  This sets us up for irritability, anger, and judgement (towards self or others).  If instead we find ways to decrease fire in the middle of the day, and in the summer season in general, we encourage health and wellbeing.

Other cultures are smart about this, perhaps forced into a varied pattern of living due to a closer relationship with the weather (a lack of air conditioning will quickly and effectively put you in touch with the realities of summer and a need to move more slowly).  Think siesta. This isn't some quaint southern European notion, a nod to laziness.  A surrender to mid-day rest is actually a tool for increased energy and mental focus.  The New York Times posted an article today about the incredible benefits of workplace naps.  No joke!

For most of us, a mid-day rest is quite a counter cultural notion and it's hard to break the habit of non-stop doing.  We can't just flip a switch and suddenly take 2 hours for rest.  But we can start small, and even 10-20 minutes of a real break from our screens will benefit our afternoon efforts.  

Here are a few other tips for a restorative 10-20 min wellness practice mid-day.  If you have access to a quiet space like the beautiful meditation room at the co-working space I belong to, the Riveter, lucky you!  If not, try and find a shady, quiet spot outside this summer.  Happy resting!

• eat lunch outside in shade
• legs up the wall (or a park bench)
• shitali breath
• breath of joy
• forward fold series (below)

Yoga Asana Stick Figures by Justine Aldersey-Williams 

Accessible Ayurveda: Spring to Summer

Happy summer solstice!  It may be the longest day of the year, but here in Seattle it feels like early spring.  Which sadly makes sense, considering our winter lasted well into May this year.  To celebrate summer, I wore a scarf and boots today (eye roll).  

Energetically however, I know it's time to shift seasons.  I always feel a ramp up in projects, busyness, and just general mayhem and chaos as spring moves towards summer. I usually feel like collapsing a week before the solstice, but if I hang in there until the wave crests, it's a nice ride into July and August.

In Ayurvedic terms, summer is "pitta" season.  Pitta is a blend of fire and water elements - think long, hot days melded with juicy melons and refreshing swims.  If we keep these elements in balance, then we are able to thrive in this season and beyond.  Find ways to nurture yourself this summer so you are ready to greet fall with a healthy, energetic mind and body.

Balance is key.  Ayurveda approaches disease from a standpoint of imbalance.  To maintain health and wellbeing, we try and live in harmony with various cycles of nature, like the seasons.  The idea is that "like increases like," so imbalance in summer looks like adding fire to a fiery season (going for a run in the full sun at the hottest point of the day). Balance is an afternoon siesta or a slow flow yoga class during lunch hour instead of power vinyasa.  

Your instincts to play, take a vacation, and be near water are spot on for this season.  Think of seasons like a gardener - so much planning and effort went into seeds and soil and nurturing bursts of growth throughout spring.  Now all that work pays off with flowers and fruit exploding in abundance.  There's maintenance to be done, sure.  Water, weed, tend.  But you also get to kick back a bit and enjoy ripe red fruit and crunchy veggies.   

Tomorrow I'll be facilitating a collaborative discussion about seasonal ayurveda and health at the Riveter.  Join me at 10am and experience this beautiful new female focused co-working and wellness space in Seattle! Here's a sneak peak at some tips for maintaining your health and building resilience during the summer months:

• yoga poses like forward folds, chandra namaskar (moon salutes) with low lunges, 
• long savanasa
• cooling breath practices like shitali and left-nostril breathing
• meditate on images of water and nature
• wake up at sunrise and exercise outside before the heat of the day
• eat foods that are cooling, sweet, bitter, or astringent in nature

Want to learn more?  Schedule a private yoga session or wellness consultation, or join me for regular yoga classes at the Riveter (Mondays 7am/5pm, Thursdays 7am/12pm).

A Practice for Householders

I rush around a lot these days.  Motherhood elevates multi-tasking and what my entrepreneur brother calls "hustle" to an art form.  The pace is relentless and slowing down isn't really an option.  And I'm the queen of downshift and self care, or I was until September 2, 2015, the evening my son arrived.  

Life kicked up another notch recently, as I took on some additional projects and teaching.  Somehow I'd managed to re-introduce a brief time of morning yoga into my daily rhythm, thanks to early PNW spring sunrises as we move towards the solstice.  With these quiet mornings, I feel pretty grounded and less hurried, and was lulled into the sense that I had returned to my full practice of meditation and attention to nature's rhythms.  In reality, I'm still rushing here, there, and everywhere and not in tune with the moon's cycle, one of my favorite rituals.  

I spontaneously decided to use a lunar theme in the yoga class I taught Thursday evening at the Riveter.  I'd been wanting to bring in the concept to my classes there, syncing the feminine qualities of the moon with this beautiful female focused co-working and wellness space.  I quickly glanced at my calendar and saw "Supermoon" for Friday and assumed full moon.  I taught a practice focused on grounding during this phase.  While seasonally appropriate with the solstice approaching, I misled my students because I taught something I wasn't fully engaged in on my own.  I'd been spinning so fast, I'd shown up to class in-authentically, however well intentioned.  I continued on in my alternative facts bubble and based my personal meditation on Friday on the full moon Moon Angels card.

I realized my mistake when I finally did slow down.  Restorative yoga on a Sunday evening is about as quiet as one can get without going to bed.  I've been enjoying a class at Seattle Yoga Arts, where I have no connection as a teacher.  Perhaps this allowed me to show up completely as student.  For the first time in several years, a studio experience unexpectedly brought me fully and deeply into my body.  It was an equally intense and peaceful experience, focused on the throat chakra and a simple mantra "find my voice."  This 5th chakra, Vishuddha, is all about authenticity.  Once the practice as completed, I took my time leaving and walking the block home.  I lingered on the sidewalk and strolled another half block, looked up, and was shocked to see the crescent moon.  This little sliver was decidedly not the glowing orb I'd expected.  I felt the wind knocked out of me and had to sit down on the closest stoop to re-orient myself.  

Rebekah Erev Studio Moons2017 (available for download here)

The difference between new and full moon energetically is significant, hence my strong sense of disorientation.  The new moon is about beginnings, a chance to start over on a monthly basis.  It exudes qualities of calm, quiet, and groundedness.  It can border on lethargic.  Sometimes it's appropriate to give into these aspects, other times we need to counter this energy.  The full moon is exuberant, lively, expansive, tending on chaotic.  At one time, not so long ago, my life involved rituals surrounding these regular markers.  The lunar cycle remains deeply resonant in my life, even if I'm not closely tracking each new and full moon.  It's drifted from my regular offerings as a teacher, yet feels so appropriate in this current hyper-masculine, regressive, and heated political climate.  I'm craving the cool, creative, life-giving moon.  

Speaking of lunar ritual, my friend Emily (aka the Ritual Coach) has a beautiful new posting on her blog, offering an honest and heartfelt new weekly energy ritual.  Giving ourselves permission...to explore what's stirring deep within us.  Yes, more of that please.

So how do we give ourselves permission to practice in the midst of busy lives?  How especially do caregivers of young children practice? If retreats and 20-30 minute (really, even 10 minute) meditations aren't available, do we just give up?  Absolutely not.  The Yoga Sutras (the original text outlining the philosophy of yoga) acknowledge that not everyone chooses a monastic life, and there are seasons to a lifetime.  When we're in the midst of careers and raising family and taking care of aging parents, we still practice.  It just looks different.  

My favorite Sutra has always been 1.33 - the "Householders Sutra."  It's for those who live in the world, not apart from it.  This Sutra acknowledges the way we come to any situation with an agenda, with our desires and hopes for the universe to be a certain way.  Here we are, very much in the world, in the messy weeds, yet have a choice to shift perspective and live within the context of four simple concepts that help us to set aside our wants and be present with what's happening for someone else.

I had the privilege to study with the amazing Jo Leffingwell for a couple of years and explore the Sutras in depth.  I'm pulling from my notes taken in her studio to offer an interpretation of the sanskrit for Sutra 1.33 that resonates most with me.  Rather than merely reacting to or mirroring others, we can stop spinning stories in our own minds and really see another person and situation.  From that place of stillness, we respond:

•  where we find happiness, we express goodwill and friendship
• where we find pain, we express compassion
• where we find virtue, we express joy
• where we find non-virtue, we express neutrality

It's not an easy practice, but it is accessible in the midst of busy lives.  It doesn't require signing up for a class, getting out a mat, finding a studio, or clearing a space on the calendar.  Through these straightforward concepts we can give ourselves permission to include a personal practice in our lives, to show up more authentically for ourselves and others.

Mother's Day Lemons and Lemonade

My toddler didn't get the memo about being all sweetness and light on Mother's Day - quite the opposite.  He was sick, clingy, threw tantrums, refused to eat except when in my lap eating from my plate of food.  In my experience, this is generally how celebratory days go.  As in, they hardly ever end up feeling picture-perfect and often involve fights or disappointments or exhaustion or all of the above.  

I did get to spend some solo time in the kitchen while my son napped, which gave me the opportunity to take the two lemons we grew over the past 16 months (in Seattle during our two rainiest, coldest winters in recent memory!) and make lemonade (along with lemon zest biscotti).  I prepped most of the ingredients and, after nap time, we had family kitchen time.  

I want Dean to understand the entire food system, so even though we live in a 1940s town-house style condo with a small back patio, we grow food.  We have pots of herbs, kale, lettuces, and strawberries.  Yesterday we went out back together to snip some mint.  Back inside we juiced our two Meyer lemons, steeped raw honey and mint in hot water, and voila - local lemonade!  Next up - mixing ingredients for biscotti.  We experimented with buckwheat flour and eggs from our farmers market (except we forgot to add them into the dough, there they still sit on the counter), raw honey from our co-op, and our own lemon zest.  The results were delicious and I felt no qualms about sharing afternoon sweets with my little boy.

Motherhood is plenty full of lemons, but with a little patience and creativity, it's not too hard to make lemonade.  For a few moments yesterday, in between tears and snot, destruction and frustration, we sat together in a brief moment of afternoon sun and shared an illusive, instagram-worthy moment of pure contentment, beauty, and joy.  

Buckwheat Lemon Zest Biscotti                                                                                               (adapted from the nytimes.com well blog recipes)

• 125 grams buckwheat flour
• 120 grams almond flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/8 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 oz unsalted butter
• 1/3 cup honey
• 2 small/medium eggs (optional)
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup almonds, chopped
• 3 tsp lemon zest

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment.

In a medium bowl, mix together the buckwheat flour, almond flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

In the bowl of an electric mixer cream the butter and honey for 2 minutes on medium speed. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and the beater with a rubber spatula and add the eggs and vanilla extract. Beat together for 1 to 2 minutes, until well blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and the beater. Add the flour mixture and beat at low speed until well blended. Stir in almonds.

Divide the dough and shape 2 wide, flat logs, about 10 inches long by 3 inches wide by 3/4 inch high. Make sure they are at least 2 inches apart on the baking sheet. Place in the oven on the middle rack and bake 40 to 50 minutes, until dry, beginning to crack in the middle, and firm. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 20 minutes or longer.

Place the logs on a cutting board and carefully cut into 1/2-inch thick slices. Place on two parchment-covered baking sheets and bake one sheet at a time in the middle of the oven until the slices are dry, 25-30 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

Honey-Mint Lemonade                                                                                                             (adapted from superhealthykids.com)

• quart mason jar
• 2 Meyer Lemons
• 2 stems fresh mint leaves
• 1 tbsp raw honey
• 3 cups hot water

Bring 3 cups of water to a boil. Rinse the mint and juice lemons to make 1/2 cup of lemon juice. Add boiling water to mason jar and stir in raw honey. Add mint leaf stems.  Steep for 5-10 minutes covered. Add lemon juice to jar. Serve at room temperature or pour over ice cubes to chill. 

Thoughts on Suffering

Spring is taking its time arriving this year.  I'm impatient.  After a long, wet, and very cold winter here in the PNW (coldest in 30 years), I had high hopes that spring would bounce onto the scene and sweep away all the built up dreariness and stagnation in my body, while magically airing out the moss and mildew accumulating on our back patio.  The landscape is getting more colorful every day, but the rain sure hasn't let up and I'm still taking refuge inside my ankle length down coat for most outings.  

Just like the weather, my toddler seems in no rush to ease up on the intensity of his existence in this life.  19 months in and I'm more exhausted than ever and left to wonder when I will ever emerge from this extremely demanding season of motherhood.  My son has slept well 4 months since arriving - the other 15 have been an endless nightmare of multiple night wakings.  Every sleep regression hits hard and drags on.  Neither of us is ready to fully wean, but I'm amazed to find that instead of tapering off, he's asking more and more often for whatever milk I still have.  So we're still attached at the breast several times a day.  I'm barely functioning, while all the while my head is spinning with projects I long to pursue but have no energy to initiate.  So the spinning spirals downward, dragging me into endless feedback loops of unhappiness and self-doubt.  I'm so good at burrowing into these layers of suffering.  

I'm in pretty deep, barely clinging to any semblance of a practice that usually helps alleviate the pain and allows me to gain a little traction.  I'm so exhausted that I can't, for all my wishing, get out of bed any earlier in the morning to have some time to myself for pranayama and meditation.  I collapse again after tucking my little guy in for his afternoon nap.  I spend the precious hour between his bedtime and mine trying to connect with my partner, wash my face, brush my teeth, and wind down.  And so it goes, day after day.  My inner and outer worlds spin in the mud. 

I stumbled upon an On Being podcast recently that briefly pulled me from my mental prison.  Krista Tippett's interview with Alain de Botton is mostly about love, sex, and relationships, but deviates just a bit at the end to discuss a less western approach to life.  He suggests an "acceptance of ourselves as flawed creatures." 

We have an enormous loneliness around our difficulties.  We need solace for the sense that we have gone wrong in an area where perfection was possible.  Anyone who comes along and says "It's normal that you are suffering.  Life is suffering," is doing a quite unusual thing in our culture which is so much about optimism. It sounds grim; it is in fact enormously consoling and alleviating and helpful in a culture which is oppressive in its demands for perfection.  (We need) a certain kind of pessimistic realism, which is totally compatible with hope, totally compatible with laughter, good humor, a sense of fun.

A week later, Yoga teacher and author Rolf Gates came to Seattle and offered a weekend workshop for teachers hosted by 8 Limbs Yoga Studios.  I was able to pass off nap duty and attend one session.  Low and behold, in the middle of a lecture on theming classes, Rolf addressed suffering.  He wasn't suggesting anything new, but it was helpful to be reminded of some basic tenants of a philosophy I've studied and adopted into my worldview.  To sum up Rolf's offering  -

• we get stuck like a wheel in mud and then we suffer.
• habits of the mind cause suffering.
• everyone is carrying a portion of the world's pain.  your portion gives you unique insight.
• affliction comes from an exaggerated sense of aloneness.

And so I remind myself that suffering isn't unique to my experience.  I remind myself of the most simple breath practice - three conscious breaths.  Suffering is the reality of all of our lives, even if a few of us are able to pretend, from time to time, that it's not.  

It's not any special time of the year or month or week right now - today is a random Wednesday in early April - no real reason to start fresh.  If you follow my blog you know that I'm big on cycles.  I use the moon and the change of seasons as a guide for renewing my intentions for mindful living. Yet here it is Wednesday in early April and I need (another) restart.  I've neglected my Lunar New Year intentions.  I escaped to Whidbey Island for a weekend alone to usher in Spring, and two days later I was once again sleep deprived and had abandoned any attempt to shake the winter/toddler blues.  The stories in my head that call to me to be told still aren't down on paper.  Projects pile even higher.  I'm buried but it's time to start digging out.  I don't want to miss that glorious Puget Sound sun when it finally decides to show up and stay a while.  There's nothing special about today, but there doesn't need to be.  On some level, every breath is an opportunity to release the past and try again.

Lunar New Year Intentions

For several years now, I've been experimenting with an extended New Year awareness.  I don't set a January 1st resolution (full disclosure - I haven't been up at midnight for several years now, but that has more to do with motherhood).   I've tied many of my daily rhythms to lunar cycle awareness, which includes celebrating the lunar new year.  Between Jan 1 and the next new moon I sit with ideas for intentions and let them percolate.  By the lunar new year, I’m ready to commit to a few ideas for shaking up my daily life.

It's taken me longer to settle on intentions this year.  But yesterday things clicked and I chose three lunar new year resolutions based on the theme of conscious living.

Pay Attention   I used to regularly set aside time to be tech free - nightly before bed and a weekly ritual silence for a few hours of family time with devices shut off.  As I slip further into motherhood, I've neglected this practice, spinning my wheels faster and faster to try and keep up and keep moving.  I try my best to say off computer and phone when my son is around, but am more hooked than ever in the time I have without him - eating breakfast alone, walking to and from appointments or meetings, sitting on the couch with my husband after our boy has gone to bed.  I'm equally disappointed with myself and addicted.  New year intention number one - conscious eating and walking.  I (re) commit, starting today, to just walk when I am walking and just eat when I am eating.  I will (try and) resist the urge to pick up my phone at the table alone and walking to and fro.  I commit to connecting with myself and the city around me. 

Moon Angels I love staying in tune with the lunar cycle through daily inspiration from Ryan Rebekah Erev's Moon Angels.  These cards provide thought provoking art and guiding descriptions for each day of the cycle from waxing to waning moon.  I've drifted from including these in my morning practice and have missed the ritual.  Today they are back and not a moment too soon.  Many of the systems in our country - political, corporate to name a couple - are dominated by a deeply ingrained patriarchy.  In itself, this solar powered energy we often associate with masculine qualities is not wrong.  But over centuries this way of living and governing has taken root to the exclusion of other ways of functioning and our systems are out of balance, serving only a few rather than all.  Lunar energy is linked to the feminine, to qualities of creativity, calm, and intuition.  Power is expressed in a very different way than we've come to know in our culture.  When we who live in a society dominated by the masculine/sun energy start to pay attention to the feminine/moon energy, we invite a shift towards balancing these two opposites.

Activism  Eight years ago I was inspired, like many, to go into public service following the election of Barack Obama.  I pursued a job with a councilmember at Seattle City Hall.  Two years later I left to pursue a Masters Degree in Sustainable Food Systems and, disillusioned with shortcomings, bureaucracy, and lack of creativity in government, never returned.  I stopped following local politics and grew complacent about (and took for granted) a national progressive agenda.  Eight years later I feel despair and anger at the election results and the decisions currently being made in Washington DC by mostly white, male political leaders.  I am inspired to activism, to an awake and conscious life that comes out of being and living according to a feminine, creative, compassionate rhythm.  

Conscious living - that's my motto for 2017.  Perhaps you'd like to join me?

Eating Together for Better Health

An article titled Simple Rules for Healthy Eating caught my eye earlier this fall.  I find it particularly relevant as we move through the holiday season and then set resolutions, often diet related, for a new year. I appreciated all of the tips, but number 7 resonated with me the most:

Eat with other people, especially people you care about, as often as possible. This has benefits even outside those of nutrition. It will make you more likely to cook. It will most likely make you eat more slowly. It will also make you happy.

I'd add to this - eat sitting down.  Why?  Sitting down can help facilitate a slower meal and bring some awareness to the food in a way that standing around an appetizer buffet discourages.  When we eat together, food becomes about much more than fuel.  Tied to the ritual of gathering around a table, it offers an opportunity to disconnect from digital life and connect with each other in the flesh.  The very act of sitting encourages grounding, an important element to incorporate in daily routines during autumn (see my previous post on staying healthy throughout the fall season).    

You'll likely read plenty in the next few weeks about navigating holiday parties without gaining 10 lbs, which steps to follow to guarantee a healthier you in the new year (gluten-free? plant-based? protein-focused?), whether to cleanse or not, and on and on.  What if you keep it simple and sit down to eat, mostly in the company of others, without a screen? Without changing the contents of your plate, would you feel happier and healthier?  I'd argue yes, but don't take my word for it.  Try it for yourself.

Begin (again).

“For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction. — Cynthia Occelli”

An apt description of my postpartum yoga journey.  15 months since the birth of my son, my practice has been completely upended, my body reshaped, and my mental state fluctuates wildly. I can feel a shadow of myself one day, and then the next I find I've more energy, creativity, and strength than ever before.  Throughout I've found it helpful to approach my postnatal practice with a beginners mind and I'm bringing this idea to my students as well.  Rather than overwhelm a room full of new mamas with a zillion options, in an effort to keep longtime practitioners engaged while simultaneously offering a safe space for beginners, what if postnatal yoga was really a space for everyone to explore an intro level practice? 

As a yoga teacher with pre and postnatal credentials, I have the added experience of exploring yoga in my own body through pregnancy and after birth.  My teaching is now informed from both training and personal understanding.  What I've found is the unique challenge of approaching yoga with the curiosity I had the first time I rolled out my mat, while allowing space for muscle memory and accumulated knowledge from years of practice.  Life becomes instantly more complicated with the birth of a baby, and there's relief in straightforward physical postures. Discovering yoga after pregnancy is a wonderful time to learn or relearn the basics of asana, pranayama and meditation.  I try to offer my students a space to approach their practice in this same way.  For those returning to yoga after giving birth, there is an incredible opportunity to begin again.  The postpartum body invites mothers to approach familiar poses with wonder, patience, and compassion. 

Whether you are new to both yoga and motherhood, returning to the practice in a new body, or moving through post birth experiences for a second or third (or more) time, you might find comfort in how effective the simplest of poses can be.  Revel in the simplicity - how the most basic of poses can provide challenge.  Feel the pose as if for the first time, and refine it.  Return to poses you had to forgo during pregnancy (twists!).  Rebuild your abdominal muscles from scratch, and perhaps discover them stronger than ever.  I used to avoid abdominals at all costs, I mentally disliked the work.  Then it became necessary for daily life - to ease low back pain, to feel good in my jeans again, to be able to pick up my son day after day as he grows.  It's taken much longer than I every dreamed, but starting from scratch and working diligently has produced a deep core strength I've never had before.

All that said, postnatal yoga classes are more then a place to awaken and tone stretched-out and saggy abdominals.  It takes tremendous courage to start (or start over) a practice.  For many mothers, it is an enormous effort just to leave the privacy and comfort of home and enter into the public realm with baby.  Crying might be viewed as disruptive, diaper changes could turn messy and chaotic, unspoken assumptions about exposed breasts hang in the air.  My biggest priority when I show up to teach and hold babies is to offer a safe space for vulnerable bodies and spirits, a place for you to find support and affirmation for your own journey through motherhood.  Come as you are and begin (again).

(Join me Tuesdays 1:30-2:45pm at 8 Limbs Capitol Hill)

Accessible Ayurveda - a peaceful belly stew

Eating for nourishment and balance during autumn is essentially about keeping the body warm and grounded as temperatures cool and breezes swirl.  Kitchari, an Indian porridge, is a perfect dish for this time of year and easy to prepare.  The ingredient list can seem daunting if you aren't familiar with mung beans and don't keep a cupboard full of spices.  But once you collect the ingredients and make this one time, it's very easy to replicate anytime you need to restore your energy and soothe the digestive system. Think of it as another culture's chicken noodle soup.

As with all of Ayurveda, you can easily get bogged down in "doing this right."  Traditionally kitchari is very simple and made with ghee and specific spices.  I played around with a slightly more creative version from Yoga Journal to adapt my own recipe.  I hope you'll feel free to experiment too and come up with a version you love. If one of the spices doesn't appeal to you or you can't find it, skip it.  If you are in need of more intense digestive healing, keep is simple and skip the vegetables.

To start, prepare your pantry ahead of time.  Here's a list of spices and other ingredients you'll want to have on hand to make this dish regularly.

Pantry ingredients

• Ghee (or olive oil or coconut oil) 
• Basic Spices - Cardamom, Cinnamon, Cloves, Corriander, Ginger, Turmeric
• Additional (optional) spices -  Curry Leaves, Mustard seeds, Cumin
• Mung beans (split or whole, yellow or green) - available in most bulk food sections
• Shredded, unsweetended coconut
• Quinoa or rice

Fresh Ingredients

• Whole ginger root
• Cilantro
• Root vegetables (choose 1-2 types like carrots, sweet potato, parsnips, or squash)
• Greens (a few handfuls of spinach, kale, or chard)

Rebekah's Kitchari

1. Prepare mung beans- rinse one cup mung beans and soak for several hours or overnight. Drain, rinse and set aside.

2. The optional, but oh so tasty salsa - in a blender or with an immersion blender, liquefy one tablespoon of peeled, chopped ginger; a half cup of shredded coconut; and one bunch of chopped cilantro with one-half cup of water (add more as needed).

3. Sauté spices - In a large pot (or dutch oven), lightly brown one-half teaspoon cinnamon; one-quarter teaspoon each of ground cardamom, cloves, turmeric, salt; in three tbsp of ghee (or other olive oil).

4. Cook beans - Stir ming beans into the spice mixture in the pot. Add 6 cups of water. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 20 minutes.  

5. Chop root vegetables - medium size cubes and set aside.

6. Prepare grain - Rinse one cup of quinoa or rice, then add to pot along with vegetables.  Cook for 15-20 minutes, stir occasionally to keep bottom from browning. Kitchari should be soup-like when you turn off heat, as it will continue to absorb liquid.

7.  Final flourish - stir in the blended spice and coconut mixture.  

8.  Savor - spoon into bowls, add a little olive oil and salt over the top, and enjoy!

Accessible Ayurveda - qualities of autumn

From an Ayurvedic perspective, autumn is a season of expansiveness and movement. Think of those blustery days with leaves dancing every which way. Traditionally, we counter these qualities with the opposite to find balance. We ground and stabalize so we remain healthy and vibrant with the swirling, chaotic energy around us. I'll address this next, but for today, I'm curious about exploring what this season is about and what it could mean to to bring a sense of fall's Ayurvedic elements into your life.

I think a lot about space - how it affects interaction, how we design space, how we hold space. Lately I've been engaging with how we move through claustrophobia in our lives, those times we feel like we can't breathe.

We don't have to go to a yoga class or roll out our mat at home to get space.  I haven't been able to get up the last two week for my early morning practice between breastfeeding my son and his wake up time. When I do get up, I have an hour or two for a cup of tea while I write and read, then sit for a few minutes of meditation, do some sun salutations and possibly head to the gym.  Instead, if I choose sleep, it's right into the kitchen to make his breakfast while I drink my tea standing up.  Last week I paid attention to how cluttered my head feels and the effects of my body from rushing from the moment my eyes open. This week I still haven't been able to roll out of bed before my son and his dad.  So I'm experimenting with how to bring the expansive quality of autumn into my compressed morning.  This practice is pretty simple - I try and pay attention to what I'm doing as I make my tea, stir the pot of hot cereal, empty the dishwasher. If I slow down just a bit, my morning opens up.   

I'm also considering how to hold space as a parent. For as rushed as I can feel trying to cram in as much as possible when I have another adult around to help with my toddler, when he and I are alone together everything can slow down to the point of insane boredom. And then I'm tempted to try and do other things while also keeping an eye on my little climber. Inevitably this leads to some sort of accident and bruise/bump/cut followed by tears. So actually, being with this little person is a lot like teaching. My role is to be present with him, to offer suggestions for creative play while letting him explore with his own intentions, and to help him stay physically safe. I've noticed that when I interact with him like this, he surprises me.  Yes, he still wants to climb onto everything and treat my bed like a trampoline and do pull-ups from the toilet paper holder.  And it turns out that he also wants to sit in my lap and read A LOT of books. I experience his sweet and rambunctious nature more intensely and learn more about what makes him tick. 

Beyond parenthood, what does it look like to hold space for other people in our lives?  For one thing, we could put down our phones and devices to engage with other people in the room or at the table, even if it's uninteresting. That moment might pass and we could discover something beyond boredom. See what happens in your world if you simplify your practice by engaging intentionally with your world. 

Experts and Intuition

To live in our current culture is to be surrounded by experts.  It can feel comforting to outsource decisions about my health, my parenting, my emotional state, my career path...  I'm constantly overtired and short on time.  Can someone just tell me what to do?  On the face of it, turning to an expert seems terribly efficient and there's a certain element of checking out that I can do. 

[side note...As I privately mull over experts vs personal intuition, we're regularly digging into this tension over at Bricoleur Collective.  It dominated our most recent discussion, which I summarized in this blog post. Then I found I had more to say, especially in the context of motherhood and yoga and so...]

Following my intuition is a huge time commitment.  I need space in my day to be quiet and listen, to get in touch with Ajna Chakra (Third Eye). As I feel my way along, my path might not look consistent or concrete the way it might if I follow prescribed steps laid out by a professional. I'm making decisions based on what's best in real time, and that often adds up to a whole lot of messiness that sometimes seems like "failure."  My head starts spinning with "if only I had done it the way so and so said, this situation would be neat and tidy right now."  I fret, I try and clear some space again to make friends with my inner voice, and that space inevitably gets co-opted by the cries of a toddler. Did I mention I'm exhausted?  

The thing is, I'm also growing weary of all the experts. Especially regarding motherhood. I've read a good number of parenting blogs and books.  Money has been spent on a sleep training plan, with mixed success. I've had a pediatrician tell me it's time to wean and I've had another congratulate me on still breastfeeding my 13 month old son.  What works today may not be helpful tomorrow. Even with all the outside opinions taken into account, I'm still tinkering with this method and that idea.  My son is a real person, living in real time, surrounded by parents living real lives. The advice I get seems made for a baby in a bubble. Seeking outside advice actually doesn't seem to be saving me time.

Here's an ongoing example. A good night's sleep is illusive in our household.  Despite what he's "supposed" to be doing at his age, my son continues to wake around 5am to nurse before sleeping for a couple more hours.  About once a week he wakes up before that and lately will not be consoled unless I hold him. It happened two nights ago. He awoke at 1:30am, screaming, SCREAMING. I knew he wouldn't go back to sleep if I simply forced him onto his back in the crib and walked out.  And I can't sleep through his cries, I'm in the next room.  Wary of physical contact leading to breastfeeding when I've sworn it off before 5am, I picked him up and brought him to bed. He didn't ask to nurse. In fact, he fell right to sleep in between mama and dada. Two hours later he did wake up and start poking my chest. But he was calm. We put him back in his crib and after a little cry, he went back to sleep for another two hours. It wasn't the best night of sleep, but it could have been a whole lot worse had I never picked him up.  

I'd read Our Sleeping Training Nightmare on the New York Times site just the day before and it stuck with me. "Could every professional be wrong," asks the author/mother. "My instincts say yes, but I've never really been on speaking terms with my instincts." She gets on speaking terms and ultimately concludes that "this is parenting, then: trying and failing and reaching and missing and sometimes getting it right, and always loving." 

And this is parenting: holding space for ourselves, our children, and our families. Parenting is an opportunity for continual mindfulness practice. It's never giving up on that time to myself I try and carve out every morning after the 5am feed, but really only happens twice a week. It's creating some spaciousness in my body and mind through Tonglen Meditation. It's giving my son room to roam while keeping focused on him as boredom creeps in and I reach for my phone and then stop (and reach and stop and reach and stop) and go back to holding a safe space for him to keep exploring and expanding his world.

Accessible Ayurveda - Establish a Ritual

Autumn is an unpredictable time, weather wise.  I wore sandals all weekend, and today I'm in wool socks and boots.  We can counter the vibe of this season with practices that ground and stabilize us.  They needn't be time consuming rituals.  In fact, you'll probably stick with a simple routine more easily.  

Create a practice that will get you out of bed.  When the morning darkness creeps later and later, it feels so good to stay under the covers.  Ultimately though, you'll feel better if you get up and move.  Try to wake up few minutes earlier than usual so you have space in your morning.  Keep a warm layer and slippers nearby.  

Morning practice suggestions:

• While waiting for your tea to steep or coffee to brew, drink a glass of room temp water or warm water with lemon
• Sit down, close your eyes and take 3 deep breaths
• Move your joints!  Take this one into the shower if you feel short on time.  Rotate joints from head to toe: neck, shoulders, wrists, waist, hips, knees, ankles.  

Evening practice suggestions:

• Make a cup of tea (there are so many herbal teas, find one that you like!)
• Turn off electronics 30-60 minutes before bed
• Sit down, close your eyes, and take 3 deep breaths

If you struggle to establish your ritual, give yourself a break.  It's the nature of autumn to be bounce around (think twirling leaves).  Keep at it and pay attention to how your day is affected by whether or not you include your ritual.

Already have a practice?  Consider adding a few more minutes of seated stillness to encourage grounding.

Hello Autumn

Just like that, our weather in Seattle shifted on Thursday.  I need a sweater and boots for venturing outside with my son between nap and dinner.  There's a chill in the house when I sit for my early morning practice, even though the thermostat reads 70 degrees.  It's fall.  

In the modern world it's hard to imagine this time of year as a precursor to slowing down. Traditionally, it's harvest time in the northern hemisphere, followed by intense periods of darkness and hibernation.  I like the idea of preparing to rest, but I'm tempted to just laugh out loud at the notion.  Autumn always feels like I'm supposed to ramp up after busy, but relatively carefree, summer months.  Time to focus, hole up inside, and be productive as rainy days become the norm.  Make Christmas lists, figure out gifts, order a heritage turkey, make holiday travel plans, attend fundraising events, cook hearty meals.... I'm exhausted already.  Autumn as a time to wind down?  How quaint.  And yet how necessary for our wellbeing.

So how does one balance a traditional approach to the seasons while maintaining a modern lifestyle?  Through simple daily practices and rituals that can bring us into harmony with nature, even just for a few moments.  We live in a culture of all or nothing, but I believe a little effort is truly better than none.  

In yoga, the ancient science of wellness know as Ayurveda has a lot to offer.  And it can get complex and overwhelming very quickly.  I try to practice it lightly and make it manageable for my students and clients.  I'm working on a series of blog posts for the coming months to explore Accessible Ayurveda and I hope you'll join me.  My first tip for this transition from summer to fall?  Think warm.  Layer up, switch from icy drinks to hot ones, favor soups over salads.  Try it for a few days and see how you feel.  You might be surprised by what a difference a little change or two can make.

Right and Wrong (more on the middle way)

It's been a long month.  I started this post in mid-May, just before our in-city move.  I put off final edits and now it's June.  This is my life at the moment.  Disorganized, distracted, dazed.  My daily routine involves chasing a crawling, climbing 9 month old through the box maze that is our new home.  Rather than procrastinate any longer, or start over, I'm ready to just post my thoughts from several weeks ago....

(May 12) My son finally "did his nights," as the french say, for the first time last night at 8 months and 10 days old.  He took longer than the other babies we know around the same age.  But he beat his dad by a few weeks.  We'd gotten to a manageable place at 7 months, then hit 8 months and it all went to hell.  Screaming, unable to console even when brought to bed with us, many night wakings, still nursing twice, impossible to put to sleep, short naps again... I planned to wait it out until our move Saturday, but by last weekend I had had enough and saw a window of opportunity to implement "cry and console."  Parents will probably know what I mean.  If you aren't a parent, it's pretty simple (but oh so controversial).  My own partner has resisted it.  Let the baby cry for increasing intervals and only console for 1-2 minutes between each, without picking baby up.  Sunday night...we went rounds for over an hour before he fell into an exhausted slumber.  Monday night...30 minutes.  Back to two night wakings to feed.  Tuesday night...12 minutes with, surprise, one night waking!  I was pretty happy.  Then last night he went to sleep by himself in 3 minutes...until 6am.  

Of course I woke up feeling pretty pleased with myself.  I had doubts about this strategy, especially going it alone.  But so far it's working.  Better than expected.  My husband is surprised.  I feel good about being right.  

Of course Pema has something to say about this.  I'm taking it slowly through her book, When Things Fall Apart.  This morning I re-read chapter 13 for about the fifth time.  It's easy for me to get caught up in feeling bad about being wrong - I spend a lot of energy there.  Yet parenting has me on the flip side - feeling good about being right.  It's so easy to get cozy with that superiority.  Pema reminds me to live in the middle - without attachment to right or wrong.  It's hard to move away from that black and white world.  Yet compassion can be found in the space you create in between extremes; a compassion necessary for leaving suffering behind.

The Middle Way

I got a little sidetracked from Pema Chodren last week.  It was good to return over the weekend during my morning practice.  I'm trying something new, in an effort to let go of my attachment to completion and order.  So many habits have formed in my life around these desires- I rush through much of my life in order to be done and check something else off my list.  Books are just one example.  It feels so good to finish; I love that sense of satisfaction when the chapter is read, the book is done, and I can take it off the "to read" pile and put it neatly in its place on the shelf.   So I've begun to placing my bookmark at the end of a chapter, rather than the beginning, to encourage myself to sit with what I'm reading a bit longer.  

This morning I found myself, still, at the end of chapter nine - Six Kinds of Loneliness.  

The process of becoming unstuck requires tremendous bravery, because basically we are completely changing our way of perceiving reality, like changing our DNA.  We are undoing a pattern that is not just our pattern.  It's the human pattern we project onto a world, a zillion possibilities of attaining resolution... We not only seek resolution, but we also feel that we deserve resolution.  We don't deserve resolution; we deserve something better than that.  We deserve our birthright, which is the middle way, an open state of mind that can relax with paradox and ambiguity.

Not wandering in the world of desire is another way of describing cool loneliness... The word desire encompasses that addiction quality, the way we grab for something because we want to find a way to make things ok... Not wandering in the world of desire is about relating directly with how things are.  Loneliness is not a problem.  Loneliness is nothing to be solved.

Another aspect of cool loneliness is not seeking security from one's discursive thoughts...  We don't seek the companionship of our own constant conversation with ourselves about how it is and how it isn't, whether it is or whether it isn't, whether it should be or whether it shouldn't, whether it can or whether it can't...  We can gradually drop our ideals about who we think we ought to be, or who we think we want to be, or who we think other people think we want to be or ought to be.  We give it up and just look directly with compassion and humor at who we are.

I love this, especially the last part.  I spend so much energy in my life analyzing what I think others' expectations of my life are.  Stories within stories within stories until I'm exhausted and very far from a calm appreciation of who I am.  I want things to be this way, to be that way, to be just a little bit different from how they are, how I am.  I've missed a lot of my life while I run back and forth between what could have been and what should be.  Maybe it's time to spend some time in the middle.  Loneliness gets a bad rap, but it can be a very rich space, as the ancient Persian poet, Hafiz , well knew.  

Super(new)moon

The moon is once again signaling a new beginning.  I love this about the lunar cycle.  We don't have to wait for another January 1 or another birthday or another season.  Every month we are invited to join the lady moon for a fresh start.  She signals us quietly and calmly, just a sliver of cool light.  She whispers to us, "join the creativity happening all around you.  play and dance and make something.  let go of your quest for the alluring, yet ever illusive, linear (upward) trajectory through life and surrender to the cyclical rhythm of nature." 

Within this fresh start offered each month is the paradox that we continue on with our life.  We keep moving and breathing.  We start again and continue on.  I just finished Elizabeth Gilbert's delightful book Big Magic.  She concludes with a reminder about life's paradoxes. 

Creativity is sacred, and its not sacred.  What we make matters enormously, and it doesn't matter at all.  We toil alone, and we are accompanied by spirits.  We are terrified, and we are brave.  Art is a crushing chore and a wonderful privilege.  Only when we are at our most playful can divinity finally get serious with us.  Make space for all these paradoxes to be equally true inside your soul, and I promise -- you can make anything.  So please calm down now and get back to work, okay?  The treasures hidden inside you are hoping you will say yes.

I love that she asks us to be playful and at the same time, nudges us to settle down and just do what we were made to do.  It reminds me of the dual nature of the moon celebrated in the yoga asana pattern Chandra Namaskar (moon salutes).  They are wonderfully alive, while intensely calming. The moon herself can invite heightened or grounded energy depending on whether she's new or full. 

So what will I do today, Day 1 (in the fourth month of the year, in the 36th year of my life)?  Rather than move on to the next book in my stack, I think I'll start this one again.  See what I might have missed the first time.  Allow the encouragement and inspiration to sink in a little deeper.  Start the same journey and see how it becomes its own, different from the last.

Good Enough Practice

"Good enough" is popping up all around me.  6 months ago I entered motherhood and now good enough parenting catches my eye.  I'm nearly finished with Elizabeth Gilbert's new book, Big Magic, and themes of mundane and persistence stand out - a sort of gentle nudge to just do it every day, even if your writing is total crap and you don't feel at all creative.  I even tried to write this blog weeks ago, the words came out just right, and then as I went to publish I accidentally deleted it.  My second attempt will have to be good enough, because the ideal first version is long gone.

Good enough is normally unacceptable.  I have high standards, my family's are even higher.  I'm genetically predisposed to perfectionism.  But I'm tired to my bones.  I don't know when I'll really sleep.  And so "good enough" isn't such a stretch.  My yoga practice is a shadow of what it once was.  My work is adequate.  My cooking lacks creativity, but is edible.  I dress merely to be clothed, not to make any fashion statement. 

Good enough feels like failure.  I suffer greatly in my attachment to perfectionism.  I like to believe I'm in total control of my life and when it's merely a fraction of what I believe I'm capable of, I think I am to blame. I wrestle constantly with hope, which seems so virtuous but always lets me down.  My instinct is to run from hopelessness, but I can't shake it.  So here I am, muddling through, suffering greatly, and then my friend brings Pema Chodren back into my life.  She's got everything and more to say about my particular suffering.  This week I'm re-reading this passage from When Thing Fall Apart as if my life depends on it.

“The first noble truth of the Buddha is that when we feel suffering, it doesn’t mean that something is wrong. What a relief. Finally somebody told the truth. Suffering is part of life, and we don’t have to feel it’s happening because we personally made the wrong move. In reality, however, when we feel suffering, we think that something is wrong. As long as we’re addicted to hope, we feel that we can tone our experience up or liven it down or change it somehow, and we continue to suffer a lot.

Hope and fear is a feeling with two sides. As long as there’s one, there’s always the other. This is the root of our pain. In the world of hope and fear, we always have to change the channel, change the temperature, change the music, because something is getting uneasy, something is getting restless, something is beginning to hurt, and we keeping looking for alternatives.

Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can’t simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment. We feel that someone else knows what’s going on, but that there’s something missing in us, and therefore something is lacking in our world.

Rather than letting our negativity get the better of us, we could acknowledge that right now we feel like a piece of shit and not be squeamish about taking a good look. That’s the compassionate thing to do. That’s the brave thing to do. We could smell that piece of shit. We could feel it; what is its texture, color, and shape? We can explore the nature of that piece of shit. We can know the nature of dislike, shame, and embarrassment and not believe there’s something wrong with that. We can drop the fundamental hope that there is a better “me” who one day will emerge. We can’t just jump over ourselves as if we were not there. It’s better to take a straight look at all our hopes and fears. Then some kind of confidence in our basic sanity arises.”

It's funny, this passage.  It gives me a new perspective on the moon cards I read every morning.  Earlier this week, before reading chapter 7 in Pema, I picked up my card for Day 19 of the lunar cycle. 

I usually hate drawing this card.  I want to skip over Day 19, pretend it doesn't exist.  Except this time through the deck I'm confronted with shit head on.  Flying shit.  My son sneeks a dirty diaper into our afternoon.  I go to change him, expecting just another wet cloth.  I fling the the diaper open and there goes poop.  I can't see it, but I can smell it.  I'm forced to let eyesight play second fiddle to my sense of smell and let my nose seek it out.  I find a nice little stinky clump sitting on the pretty cream crib bumper.  I shake my head, hold my breath, then go ahead and grab that little piece of poop and toss it out.  There's a tiny mark left behind, but really, no one else would know.  I could undo all those nice little ties and do yet another load of laundry.  Instead, I just leave it.  It's clean enough.  And time to let good enough be good enough. 

A Return to Maitri

I've been a big fan of Maitri (loving kindness) Practice, since my dear teacher Lisa Steele introduced me to it years ago.  It's been a consistent part of my daily practice, at least it was until about two weeks after my son was born and my world turned completely upside down.  I let it go.  And then the hours of lost sleep started to add up.  And my support systems fell apart.  And we had the rainiest winter in Seattle in a century.  And I found out I have to move my family, again.  The world started looking pretty ugly.

Then my best friend brought Pema Chodren back into my life.  While I holed up with a new baby, she discovered secular buddhism and maitri and all the practices I love.  She did the kindest thing for me that I've experienced since she left a daffodil on my doorstep on a dark day 7 years ago.  She reminded me about mindfulness, gently, over and over throughout the long winter.  She sent me passages from Pema's When Things Fall Apart.  She reminded me to breathe.  I'm deeply grateful.

It's a transformative experience to sjmply pause instead of immediately filling up the space.  By waiting, we begin to connect with fundamental restlessness as well as fundamental spaciousness. -Pema Chodren

Another New Year

Happy (lunar) New Year!  I realized recently that I've put off writing for a very long time, while waiting for the perfect post to take shape in my head.  One of my intentions for the coming year is to write, daily.  Just write, whatever it is I have to say, regardless of how polished it is.  Thank you Elizabeth Gilbert (Big Magic is a must read for the avidly creative!)  And so, a jumble of thoughts...

I picked up some cards last fall that follow the cycle of the moon.  Each day has a card and it's become my meditation since my son was born and my world turned upside down.  Day 27 keeps coming back around and grabbing my attention, and it did so again Saturday.  

Whirlwind: There's something in there in the chaotic windstorm and twisted-up jankyness of this moment.  There's something there.  You're uncomfortable.  There's something there in the discomfort.  There's something there.  It's gold.

 (Day 27, Moon Angels by Ryan Rebekah Eren).

I read this card and immediately think of the poem Eyes So Soft, by Haiz

Don't
Surrender
Your loneliness so quickly.
Let it cut more
Deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice so
Tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.
 

Loneliness is not a feeling I enjoy, AT ALL.  I doubt many of us do.  It seems to particularly agitate me.  And so I love being brought back to this poem and reminded of the goodness that lies in such discomfort.  I didn't expect motherhood to bring a huge wave of loneliness.  Yet here it is, day after day.  Fall has turned into a dark and wet winter, dear friends live in far off places, everyone is busy, busy, busy, and I am alone with this dear, sweet baby boy who can't yet talk.

Six more weeks of winter.  Lent begins Wednesday.  Time to hunker down and see what beauty emerges from my discomfort.  Let the new year begin.