Holding

Sometimes all we can do is maintain in times of chaos.

It can take a toll, both emotionally and physically.

We often don't have the answers or know just the right thing to say.

And sometimes it's only faith that gets us through.

Fantasy

I've finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up: a writer living in Northern California. I'd be near the coast and spend my days hiking, caring for plants and animals, and penning witty prose.

I would write about love, food, travel, and the fight for justice. The stuff that makes up any good story. I'd probably write non-fiction just because my threshold for suspending disbelief is so high (or would it be low? i just can't do it!). Plus, my life often seems as if it's made up, so inserting reality through writing should be just the thing to do. Maybe composing impassioned social work research would be another option. The opportunities would be endless.

My new home would be within the reach of the ocean's breeze. It wouldn't be big-maybe two rooms with a large porch, complete with a hammock. I've always had a penchant for small houses. Ever since I was little, my dream home had only a few hundred square feet. (If you ask me what's wrong with the US today, I'd definitely have to say it's the houses.)

I have a creative streak in me that I've only let come out in homeopathic doses. Perhaps I need to water those seeds more. And the California thing...I miss the water, trees and rocks.

I'm not planning to go anywhere anytime soon. I'm not under any delusions that I can plop down several digits for an abode and make enough to support myself by stringing words together.

But a girl can dream, can't she?

Nectar

I don't know how else to explain it, but I simply crave Mary Oliver's poetry. I admire her ability to put words to what I can only feel.

So I want to leave you with a another poem that has served as my guide:

What I Have Learned So Far

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside, looking into the shining world? Because, properly attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion. Can one be passionate about the just, the ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit to no labor in its cause? I don't think so.

All summations have a beginning, all effect has a story, all kindness begins with the sown seed. Thought buds towards radiance. The gospel of light is the crossroads of--indolence, or action.

Be ignited, or be gone.

-Mary Oliver

Memorias

(Above: Jamaica flower, backyard, Burque, NM)

I had to download pictures from my camera to the new computer. I thought I'd share some of my memories from travels and time...

Stinson Beach, CA

Grand Canyon NP

St. Louis Half-Marathon 2007

Birkenau Concentration Camp

Oświęcim, Poland

Neustadt in Holstein, Germany

Machu Picchu, Peru

Santa Monica, CA

Hermits Peak, Las Vegas, NM

Looking east from El Cabezon, NM

Upheaval Dome,

Canyonlands NP, Utah

Moab, UT

The week in review

I'm always amazed at how one thing can throw off my equilibrium. I'd like to be able to say one small thing, but my calm week ended with a bang. I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

Barack Obama came to the 505 for a town hall meeting. Since he was here on a Monday and I had a ticket, I went. It was my first time seeing a presidential candidate, if you don't count the two times I saw Dennis Kucinich. After hearing Obama, I do feel more enthusiastic about supporting him. I'm fed up with the way things are. Being an armchair activist is no longer enough; I've decided to volunteer.

Later that day I played volleyball for the first time in eight years. It was fun. But I then hurt. All over. I'm better now. I'll do it again this Monday.

I can't say how much better my life is now that I'm only working four long days per week instead of five. I feel better. I'm hesitant to say it, but I've been feeling good...

I was supposed to go to Ohio to see my friend Melody next week, but the two weeks I gave myself between trips wasn't enough time. October will be better.

That leaves me in Burque over Labor Day weekend. When I realized that I will be here for the New Mexico Marathon, I initially thought I should do the half. Then I hesitated because I just "ran" one earlier in the month. I thought my sister would be impressed with my sound judgement, but she told me I should probably do it. So I will. Not that I blindly follow her advice. I am the big sister, after all. But she is an exercise physiologist and the inspiration for me to run.

After a tranquil week, I had to extinguish a quick-burning problem at 5 PM today. It's not completely out, but contained. Sometimes that's all that can be done. I'm learning to be fine with it. At least I have next week to try to get things right.

Thursday, the new Wednesday

I went to a four-day workweek, Tues-Fri. This was my first week trying the new schedule. It wasn't a huge difference because most days I had been putting in well over 8 hours. Tuesday kicked my butt, though, being back in the office after vacation, and having a million things scheduled. I wasn't sure if I could make it, but I did.

The best part, though, is waking up on a Saturday morning knowing I still have today and two more full days before I return to work. I'll finally have sufficient time to rest, get things done, and get physical. Finally...

Changes

Every year, when the heat becomes unbearable, the monsoon clouds roll in. If we're lucky, our rainy season begins. It becomes miserably humid* but not as hot. Finally, one day the air changes. A cool breeze blows. It's still warm, but one can tell that summer is beginning to lose its hold.
I've noticed that it felt different when I went outside in the mornings this week. Today, I smelled change. I don't know how to explain it-only a waft of fall, but it's on its way. It makes me happy.

*Miserable means levels of humidity at 40% or higher. I know most of you in steamier areas are probably rolling your eyes. We're just not used to feeling sweaty!

Amor II

It's not love unless it seeps from your pores.

The pursuit of happiness?

After reading Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss last month, I've begun to ponder the role of happiness in life. I really hadn't thought about it much, besides reflecting on whether or not I'm happy. Since finishing the book, I've noticed several references to the psychology of happiness in other places.

It was an interesting, if sometimes incomplete, read. I was drawn initially to the chapter on Bhutan's "gross national happiness." Weiner visits several other countries and devotes a chapter each, looking at what causes people to be happy in those places (with the exception of unhappy Moldova). The answers ranged from having clean toilets to being able to trust those around you.

As I was reading the book, though, I wondered if the wrong term was discussed. Being happy is an emotional state that's subject to change. The sources of happiness identified in the book were primarily external.

If I had to rank my happiness these days, it would rank pretty high, higher than it was a few years ago. Of course, I still get bouts of cynicism and anxiousness when I feel that things are getting out of control. However, when I stop and calm myself, I see something that's deeper and more constant than the variable emotions. I'm not sure what to call it: centeredness, satisfaction, or equanimity?

Whatever it is, it's there, too, when I'm happy. And while having this centeredness has helped me to be happier, it's not happiness. It's something more.

Maybe it doesn't need to be named.

Or studied.....


Or written about.....


The End.

Le Fin

I couldn't wait to reach the finish line to eat the bananas awaiting us.
But nothing says "good job" like being handed a flaxseed pumpkin bar upon completing a race.

Summertime bounty

Pesto made from freshly picked basil.

Tonight, zucchini soup.

Tomorrow, eggplant and tofu.

yum...

upon return

First, the weather...

It was in the 60s when I left San Francisco yesterday, and 106 degrees in Phoenix. By the time I made it back to Burque, a rain shower had rolled in, making the temp a balmy 72. Beautiful.


The poem "Mindful" by Mary Oliver was my meditation for the trip. It starts:


Every day
I see or I hear
something
that more or less
Kills me
with delight...

I must have died a thousand little deaths these past two weeks. The plants, animals, people, air, water, rocks...


Highlights: eating ethiopian food, traveling with family and friends, enjoying vinho in wine country, reading as much as I wanted, soaking, sticking my feet in the cold ocean.

The race: I earned the bling! And I got to run over this:

This trip helped me feel "normal" again, whatever that ephemeral term means. After a year focused on work and establishing myself professionally, I realized I need a lot more play in my life. Today I did yoga in the morning and spent the rest of the day relaxing and doing laundry.

I realize that even when I'm off, I have a habit (or maybe more of an addiction) to checking my work email. So, I did, mostly to reassure myself that nothing catastrophic had happened. It didn't, but I did find out that we had gotten a grant for more than the amount requested.

Now, I need to clean the house before my mother arrives tomorrow.

Life is good.