Making Room for Love

To truly allow yourself to love, you need to allow yourself the possibility at times, that you don’t.

That’s the irony with most of our relationships with
everyone and everything.
Why are we so afraid to admit that we may not love a person or love doing something or even love being a certain way, that we box ourselves into a place where freedom to choose no longer seems like a choice? For whatever the reason, under certain circumstances, we’ve deemed it socially unacceptable to admit to not loving someone or something. Maybe because we fear losing that someone or something forever,that we'll look bad, be judged or hurt someone… but whatever the reason, not letting ourselves feel something is the first step down a slippery slope, leading to depression and ultimately a life unfulfilled.
When we stop making room for these feelings we start resenting and withdrawing from people we care about because we feel trapped, trapped by feelings we're "not allowed" to have.
For love to be love, for love to thrive, it has to be freely given. You can’t free yourself up to truly love someone if you can’t even ponder the possibility that you don’t.
Where’s the freedom of choice and where are we to go
with our suppressed feelings?
It’s highly implausible that we can be feeling love for our partners, our children or our family 24/7. How many of us allow ourselves to admit that? For most people that have been in a long term relationship, the feeling that maybe they are not in love with their partner, is very frightening and so they conclude that it would be better left alone, unexamined. The problem; what we don’t claim dominates us. Ancient wisdom tells us that whatever is within us that is ignored or disowned rules over us. We must assume responsibility for it if we hope to gain freedom from it.
Here’s the real dope: if you allow yourself to feel it and maybe even say it occasionally, you have then freed up something inside yourself to experience real
love and joy.
I can’t tell you how many times I have done something out of obligation or not let myself acknowledge my true feelings for fear that I may have to then change
my life. Never has this avoidance of feelings ever evolved into something positive. Conversely, letting myself feel all my feelings, no matter how scary or life altering I believe they are, has freed me up to having a life worth living.

The Now

One of my favorite New Year's resolutions has always been to live more in the moment, the now, if you will. Admittedly one of the hardest things for me to do is to be wholly in the moment. There's always something for me to dwell on that either just happened or might happen any minute now that takes me out of the moment. I just read an article in the Huffington Post by Stacy Lawson entitled "Live In the Now" in it she has a quote that I love, by Montaigne translated from french "There were many terrible things in my life and most of them never happened." This about sums it up for me.
She goes on to write;
"Ultimately, this mischief of the mind limits your creative power - you cannot create from the past, nor can you create in the future. You can only create in present moment...in the Now.

The Now is eternal and unbounded. It is without content. It is free from any orientation or attachment. Some traditions describe the Now as the gap between two thoughts. By slipping into the gap of the Now you can structure an entirely new experience. When you are fully attentive to the moment, you can access the field of infinite potential...where past, present and future do not dictate your reality.

Every moment is truly new. Every moment is pregnant with possibility and imbued with vast creative intelligence. Your job is to constantly empty the mind, giving up old moments in favor of unlimited possibility. No matter what has come before, a new reality is possible this moment. No matter how "bad" your day has been, you have the power to create the best day of your life."

I know that these words are true, I know that when I have, on occasion, truly lived in the moment, they are the most gratifying moments of my life. One moment at a time.

For Want of Wanting

Want; it can be used as a verb (used with or without object) or a noun. One definition being; “to be deficient by the absence of some part or thing, or to feel or have a need”.

Today I had a realization that changes the way I look at my life. I got up this morning and found my mate in the living room writing in his journal, I sat down and we immediately got into deep conversation about life, our lives. One of the things he touched on was the feeling that his grandfather and father were considered icons or “great” men and that all his life he wanted to be great. My response, was that he was already that great person, even back then as a boy, and that he just didn’t see it, which I know to be true, but almost sounds pat in today’s world of self introspection and positive affirmations, etc.
As we got deeper into the conversation I shared that it reminded me of MY childhood only I always wanted to have the perfect body, I always fantasized that if I had the perfect body (and overall look) I would be beyond happy, my life would be filled with wonders beyond my wildest imagination blah, blah, blah… I guess this was my version of “being great”.
We went on to talk about the times in our lives when we actually achieved “greatness” (at least in our own mind) or came as close to it as possible, for example; a time when he was playing piano so beautifully he made his instructor cry at a recital, or a time I was in great shape and very happy with my body and the overall way I looked.
Why then did we not maintain these statuses? Why were these fleeting moments? Why did we need to sabotage ourselves? Is it because once we were getting close to great, and our lives were not exactly meeting our wildest fantasies, it was too disappointing to face?
What about this state of WANTING, “the state of being without something desired or needed, of being without the necessaries of life.”?
Now this, the state of wanting, this is where we grew up. It was something we could handle, this feeling was so familiar, so comfortable, it seemed to fit us perfectly. Wanting wasn’t a launching point to get you to the next place in life but rather was a perpetual state of being, a mood or way of life, if you will. This is how we were recognized, how we learned to relate to others. It was like belonging to this club, those of us who knew about wanting. I started to think back to the 60’s when I was growing up, what was I hearing about- wanting peace, wanting to change the world, wanting to be somebody, wanting to stop the war…it was cool to want. Now wanting…that’s something I could sink my teeth into, wanting is where it was at.
When I think about the last conversation I had with an old friend of mine, (about a week ago) what did we talk about? We talked about wanting to lose weight, hmm… let’s see…how long have I been wanting that… Oh yeah only about 40 years now - 40 YEARS!!!! What the hell! Let’s at least consider changing the subject!!! There should be a statute of limitations on it for Christ sake, come on already! How long should we be allowing ourselves to want something??? (I’m starting to feel like Lewis Black all of a sudden).
Here’s the rub; it can’t possibly be about losing the weight or whatever that thing is that you say you “want” it must somehow be the wanting that is the goal here . Imagine having a contest for people who have been wanting something the longest in life? You wouldn’t actually get the Gold Medal, your prize would be to get to keep wanting it!
What I’m saying is, that wanting, the state of wanting, is the what we end up becoming attached to, as painful as it is.
Now it’s not as if we all haven’t achieved many goals along the way, it’s just that I can finally see clearly how this state of wanting is so ingrained in me that I don’t even notice I’m in it. To see past wanting and accept HAVING is really to accept a totally new way of understanding and living life. I think I’m ready for a change.

Gratitude

It’s been a while since I thought about him, “The Smiler” The man with the beautiful smile and glistening eyes that always seemed eager for a pleasant conversation and always had time for a friendly “Hello, how are you?”... Mr. Martinez. He lives on the block that I once lived on, the block that my children still live on half the time with their father and his girlfriend.
The block that houses people of my recent past, my ex in-laws and their long time neighbors, the block that holds my children’s father’s childhood memories.
I lived on that block for 5 years, a mere fraction of the time the Smiler has, during that time I must have walked down it thousands of times, through all four seasons, carrying bundles, pushing a stroller, rushing off to work or to pick up the kids. Often I would see him outside his house puttering around, he would always look up, always with that same friendly smile. He reminded me of my father in his later years, there was something distinctly sentimental about his look, something shy but open at the same time,his energy seemed unrelentingly kind and loving. I never really knew him. I almost never stopped to talk, except when my kids were dawdling or learning how to walk, the pace was much too slow to avoid his welcoming glance and it seemed futile not to strike up a conversation. We mostly talked about the kids, he knew my ex’s family for many years and would always ask about them, eager to hear, as though their lives were a vital part of his.
When I moved out of that house I never saw him, it’s been 3 years.
Today I was walking down the street with my 6 year old daughter and when I looked up there he was… a petite old man wearing glasses and bundled up in a wool winter coat and cap, slowing walking down seventh avenue. I wasn’t sure he would remember me at first, as I gradually started to walk past him I saw him slow down to look at my daughter and then at me and then back to my daughter while slowing to a stop. I stopped and smiled at him and he asked me while pointing to my daughter “Rrrrrossman?” I responded “Yes that’s her, I’m her mother" (so as not to be confused with a babysitter). He turned towards me with wide eyes and the most beautiful smile and said in a thick Spanish accent “You! Yes You! I didn’t recognize you, your hair looks different, how are you? You look good, you moved away so quickly, only after a few years, I have been on that block 40 years, and I know everybody. How are you? How are you? Are you Ok? Are you married?” he was so eager to hear about my life and me, he glowed and so did I. He said I looked happy. As we talked I looked down at my daughter who was smiling up at us, she too was swept up in the infectious energy of the moment.
As we parted I felt compelled to give him a hug, as I released him I saw his eyes get watery, and in that moment I felt loving gratitude for being remembered and seen through the eyes of The Smiler.

Keeping it Simple

I haven't written anything in a long time and this morning I read an article on the Huffington Post that was simple and to the point and I thought I would get back into things by posting it.

Losing Weight: What They Won't Tell You On TV

by Tara Stiles
The question most people ask me on YouTube and in person is "What should I eat to be skinny?" It is the main thing on America's mind, or at least the media seems to want it to be. Between images of Americas Biggest Loser glaring at us from our TV's, constant updates about eating disorders, weight gains and losses of all our favorite celebrities, and the surge of "diets" including Dr. Atkins' coronary artery disease, heart attack and death, we're suffocated so much that it makes us want to gorge on Doritos and Ben and Jerry's while we stare at the boob toob in horror at famous people's cellulite!

That is one of the reasons why I unplugged my cable TV for a year to detox. There is no escape from our obsession with weight though. I had zero to contribute to any conversation about reality TV and I had no idea who Brittany was dating for an entire year, but I could tell you all about her weight gain because pasted on every newsstand were those images of her clutching a liter of Mountain Dew and a bag of McDonalds with the grease stain leaking through. I also kept up on Angelina's troubling weight loss because of "exhaustion" and I saw most of the traumatic pictures of Nicole Richie's lollipop head barely balancing atop her tiny skeletal frame.

Recently I leaped back into the game and reunited with the cable company. It was only to watch the Olympics of course, but I couldn't escape the commercials for heart attack pills, new exercise systems, McDonald's new salad choices, and low-calorie hot pockets.

So my thing is yoga. I've been practicing since I was a teenager with a bunch of master teachers, and teaching for a few years myself now because I feel there is a big gap between the people that already practice yoga, and everyone else. I grew up in the Midwest where a lot of people think yoga is an exclusive club for the spiritually elite (or just plain weird). I think Yoga should be for everyone, not just the folks who change their name to something Hindu.

They won't tell you this on TV or in the magazines, because it's not selling much besides a healthy lifestyle (no special meals delivered to your door, no fancy exercise machines). It's the hidden secret to the last diet and health plan you'll ever need. It doesn't come in a bottle and you don't even have to go on a payment plan.

When you practice yoga regularly you get more then you will from jogging on the treadmill catching up on the last season of Lost. When you practice yoga you use your body and your mind, and you're gaining awareness and intuition. Not by thinking really hard "I'm gaining awareness and intuition," but because it just works that way. And when you have more in that department, you make better choices. You'll notice things slightly shifting, from the awareness that you have when you wake up in the morning, to how you walk around and get your work done during the day, to the choices you make for dinner. There's nothing mystical about the new insights you're gaining; it just happens. You'll start to feel happier and healthier, more grounded, stronger, flexible, in your body and in how you feel psychologically. Little moments of clarity start coming more frequently. Sounds are richer, food even tastes better.

Your body is smart. It doesn't want to be filled with crap all the time. It will let you know what it needs and you won't have to follow diets. You'll start to see where you may have been psychologically hungry or craving or tired, when your body may have been just fine and ready to do its job for you. Your awareness and intuition have been with you all along, they just may have needed some dusting off. As long as you are listening to your body's needs, and being clear about your psychological needs, you should be able to figure it out with a little practice.

In the meantime here is my short list.

High-fructose corn syrup: Bad. Don't eat it. Read labels carefully, it's in a lot of products. High-fructose corn syrup is the last thing to leave your body so go ahead and add it as fat. If you are hiking for miles and your body is totally out of fuel it just may start to eat away on its storage of high-fructose corn syrup if you're lucky. Best bet is to stay away. Find products that use natural unprocessed (or at least less processed) sweeteners like cane juice or raw organic sugar.

Greens: Good. Green things are good for your body. Find organic greens and you're all set for your salad. Squeeze a little lemon, add a few walnuts and an avocado and you've got a great meal.

Long ingredient lists: Bad. Read labels in your favorite products. Look for short lists of simple, less-processed ingredients with names you recognize as food. If you find some of the same ingredients in your cereal as your shampoo maybe it's time to switch to something simpler.

Water: Good. It's hard to believe that qater is still underrated. It arrives out of our taps (get a filter if you want), and is free for now . . . although I am anxiously anticipating Irena Salina's new award winning documentary Flow to see how that may change. Drink water. Drink it often. Carry it with you. Drink it all day. Have it by your bed to take care of midnight thirst.

Bozo the Clown, dies at 83

Larry Harmon, longtime Bozo the Clown, dead at 83

My condolences to Mr Harmon's family and friends, I'm sure it was a great loss.
Someone who was able to maintain this type of persona for all these years has certainly perfected an art.

I always found the name "Bozo" amusing, but I know I'm not the only one that finds the actual clowns themselves a bit terrifying. My kids are not amused by them. So what is it about their big fake painted smile, blood shot eyes and pancake makeup that would make anyone laugh?

Here are some quotes from the article that was written by JOHN ROGERS of the Associate Press, in it he quotes Harmon saying:

"Bozo is a combination of the wonderful wisdom of the adult and the childlike ways in all of us," Harmon told The Associated Press in a 1996 interview.

"I'm looking for that sparkle in the eyes, that emotion, feeling, directness, warmth. That is so important," he said of his criteria for becoming a Bozo."

"Bozo is a star, an entertainer, bigger than life," Harmon once said. "People see him as Mr. Bozo, somebody you can relate to, touch and laugh with."

I never really understood the attraction to clowns. I happen to considered it a bit tragic to have a permanent smile painted on a fully feeling adult. Children are very perceptive and it seems to imply that this "being" has only one singular feeling, doesn't that seem odd, a deception? I can't help thinking it all seems a bit deranged.

A Toast To Hillary

I don’t see myself as someone who is easily moved to tears, especially in matters concerning politics. I have been an avid follower of this presidential race from the beginning, I have been watching, listening and reading all about the candidates the last 16 months. I started out with the idea of supporting Hillary and then early on, as I was exposed to the other candidates, I became intrigued by the number of democrats I thought had valid and worthy things to say about our country. I decided to hold off deciding to choose until after I had gotten to know them and their policies a bit better. It became clearer that there were a few in the bunch, besides Clinton, ie; Kucinich, Obama, Edwards, and Biden, etc…that had some interesting ideas.

What use to be a lean steady diet of Jon Stewart and Bill Maher had now become a veritable smorgasbord with the likes of Chris Matthews, Keith Olbermann, Chuck Todd, Tim Russert, Maureen Dowd, Arianna Huffington (just to name a few) invading my home at all hours of the day and night.
Armed with information, I chose to support Barack Obama. I felt intuitively that he was the change that our country needed and that he was someone who, through it all, displayed great confidence and integrity, even the way he would say “we” and “our” as opposed to “I” and “my”, it always seemed like he was more connected to the rest of us. For these, and other reasons, I chose to support Barack Obama over all the other candidates. I watched as it came down to just the two of them: Barack and Hillary. I watched as the endorsements unfolded, the delegates were counted (and recounted) and the mud was slung. I watched as she and her campaign lied, exaggerated and insisted that they were winning even when the numbers never added up. I watched as the Democratic Party became more divided and looked as if it was becoming fractured beyond repair. I began to lose all respect for her and her campaign managers. Until finally last Tuesday night arrived and it happened, right after Montana’s numbers were in: Barack Obama was named the presumptive nominee. Now, I thought, if only Hillary would just accept this reality and help the party reunite.
After what seemed an eternity, yesterday afternoon Hillary Clinton endorsed Barack Obama for President. An event I had been waiting to see happen for what seemed like years, all the while anticipating a feeling of victory and great satisfaction.
As she approached the podium, my partner and I sat on the sofa, celebratory drinks in hand, we turned up the volume on the TV with rapt attention… that’s when it happened… as I watched her approach the mike with her mother, husband, and daughter in tow I began to cry, I couldn’t contain my tears, I just wept. I was extremely moved. It wasn’t the words she used or how she delivered it, they weren’t tears of happiness that Barack had won, or a great relief that finally this part of it was over. No, there was something more basic about it, the human element, the frailty of it, the realness of what was happening in that very moment and how big it all really was, the awesome reality of what she had tried to do, the work she had put into it, it all struck me in that instance and my tears continued to flow throughout the speech, I felt like I was seeing her for the first time: real, humble, an American, a person, a woman.