Music and Magazines

This may sound a bit unorthodox. Well, maybe a lot. You see, I've come to believe that God is speaking to me through music and magazine articles.

It all started when I began looking through the magazine rack at my local co-op. It has a variety of magazines and periodicals that you don't find in most stores, covering topics from hobby farms to global feminism to yoga and science. I had to find an article to critique for an assignment, so I browsed the publications with interest. I've always done the majority of my contemporary and informative reading on the internet, so I wasn't prepared for what I found as I read past covers and flipped through features.

In the first week that I scanned the selections, I found that 6 out of the 8 magazines that I was interested in were covering the same basic subjects at large. Now I can understand that this would be closely tied to world events and a global consciousness on a level that we are just barely coming to be aware of and understand. But what really struck me was that each of these magazines was answering a different aspect of a question I had been ruminating on in my own mind. You know the type. Questions that aren't answered by a quick google search. Questions that you have to put out into the universe and hope that the answer will be found by your intentions and find its way back to you. And here I was, receiving those very queries reflected back to me.

I can also comprehend that this is in part a result of my openness and willingness to receive. When you have a thought in the back of your mind, the world that you perceive begins to take shape around the truth of that thought, and your reality begins to be a reflection of that truth. And because I do believe there is truth in the genuine searching, (or else our minds would not be drawn to these persistent ideas), I believe that the results of our searching must contain truth as well.

So here I am, discerning truth from a variety of sources, all inexplicably connected. But it wasn't the only time that this would happen. I began to make a habit of returning to the magazines on their deep, hand crafted wooden shelves each week as I shopped for my groceries after my Saturday morning yoga sessions. And I began to receive answers to other questions. My understanding was opening on various subjects of interest that had been occupying my thoughts the past couple of months. Sometimes it was simply by reading titles of different articles, others I knew that I had to purchase the magazine and read the whole thing cover to back to gain insight. But I was never disappointed.

And yes, you could say I simply saw what I was looking for. And I think you're right. I did see what I was looking for, but I was looking for what God wanted me to see as well. I felt guided by something higher - and the truths that I saw may not have been there because God told someone what to write, but I may have had the ability in that moment to see something differently than I would have seen it otherwise. And I saw God's hand in that.

Similarly, I have had experiences with music sprinkled throughout my days during this same time frame. There have been times that I got into the car and was particularly troubled with a subject or a person, and I would be wanting some form of guidance for what to do or how to change my perspective to a more positive or understanding one. So I would set my phone to shuffle and let it play from whatever artists and albums I had downloaded. And invariably, the sequence of songs would present a very powerful message. Lines stood out that I hadn't noticed before or interpreted in such a way. Melodies moved my heart to embrace a conclusion that I had been resisting. My heart found expression as my voice led my soul along to the lyrics that God was singing to me. And again, I could believe that God manipulated the playlist, but I don't necessarily. I think God showed me what could be there, and spoke to me in a way that I was able to hear.

God is speaking to me, and I am learning how to finally speak back and believe that I am being heard. My own communication doesn't look like what I thought it would, but it is no less powerful and real.

Healthy food

I've re-discovered my love for runny yolks. Especially when it's dark orange from a truly free range, pastured chicken.

My kimchi experiments are finally proving fruitful. My favorite addition for flavor? Lemon thyme. I might also pick some dandelion greens from the yard for my next batch.

Speaking of lemon, this is a perfectly fresh, perfectly healthy indulgence for your sweet tooth. Honey sweetened lemon curd on top of a soaked nut crust with lots of grass fed butter. Yum.

Healthy food. It all seems a bit relative these days, and the words themselves make me think of a rendition by Wyclef Jean on an episode of Sesame Street. What does it make you think of?

I recently hit the 30 pounds lost mark. It feels good. I'm back to where I was before my last pregnancy, but still have a long way to go before I'm down to where I was before the pregnancy prior to that one (a mere 9 months earlier, but a good 40 pounds).

The amazing thing about this, however, is that I've never been able to lose the weight while breastfeeding before, and I'm not exercising beyond yoga and weight lifting, AND I'm never hungry. In fact, I feel better than I have in years. I attribute all of this to the quality of the food I've been choosing more consciously lately. I mean, we've eaten technically organic, with loads of fruits and veggies, and minimally processed for years now, but I still can't believe how much relative junk I was allowing before. A processed, sugar laden cereal bar is still a cereal bar no matter how "natural" is is, and contrary to popular health lore, it is NOT good for you! I still excused way too much sugar in the name of health food, and ate way too much wheat and dairy that was not in the proper form for healthy consumption. It actually blows my mind the things that I had allowed to become part of my family's daily intake.

But much of that has changed. No, we're not perfect, but our diet today looks so much different than that of even 6 months ago. And I can speak for my whole family when I say that we're happier for it. Aside from one case of the sniffles and a mild tummy bug (that hit the baby and toddler the hardest) we've hardly been sick. We have more energy and I for one find it easier to manage stress. The kids are trying new foods and liking them to a degree that never ceases to amaze me. And we're supporting local agriculture, sustainable farming, humane animal treatment and just a better food economy to boot!

For those of you who think this all sounds ridiculously hard and out of reach, let me assure you it is not. I make almost everything myself that I can lately. No more store bought convenience if I can help it. And I seriously am not in the kitchen all day either! Some days I don't know how I do it in truth, but it all works out. It IS doable, and it's absolutely worth it.

I'm going to start posting some recipes for some of what I've been doing and discovering. Some with my own twists, some from other sources, but all essential to living a truly nourishing life.

And I don't even think about weight loss anymore. I just know that by continuing to truly feed myself and treat my body with respect, it will eventually normalize without my having to stress about each pound. And if you've ever tried to lose weight purposely, that's a big deal.

So here's to a high fat, raw where it counts, pastured, grass fed, chemical free, cultured and all around delicious way to live!

Catching breath

I've been living in a fantasy world of my own making. So many items on my perpetual list of good intentions, all good and worthy, fruitful and satisfying. But they defied the laws of space and time; something I have been reluctant to admit as I structured and re-structured my days to fit all the pieces together.

Most of the time I was able to create the illusion of success, and some days everything even lined up perfectly. But when the boundaries of what you want to accomplish are continually rubbing up against each other, edges begin to fray. Friction takes it's toll and pieces of the puzzle start to wear down.

With so many balls in the air, I literally could not choose which ones to let drop to the ground. I believed in the dichotomy of either/or and could not accept the sacrifices. I insisted that there was no overlap, so how could I not make it work? But the results speak for themselves.

Group blogs, non profit fund raising, retreats, doula clients, midwifery studies, yoga, food prep, food growing, retreats, choir, family.

See that? See what was last on my list? Horrible but true. My children and my husband had taken a back seat to my ambitions. And as is usually the case, it took breakage to see the weakness. My weakness. My daughters were acting out, I was fighting with my husband, damage was manifesting itself in the cracks of my foundation. I fought for a while to pretend that these fault lines were not mine, not related to my endeavors. But in the end I gave up.

And I've broken with that part of myself that couldn't let go of the vision of success above all else. What is success if failure is the step stool?

So there you have it. I've slowed down. Not just in my accomplishments, but in my expectations. I've removed the part that held on to attachment at all cost. I've delegated and given up being so concerned with how everything turns out. If it's important, it will get done, but it will not be because I fretted about it for hours outside of actually working on something. It won't be because I sacrificed that which should never be placed on the altar. The effort is enough, and the ends and finishes will find their own way.

And in the process I created a new fantasy world. One where time stops right before bedtime and stretches into endless moments where I can read and sing and love my children. One where time outside on a blue sky breezy day is suspended and extended in order to soak up laughter of babies like the rays of sunshine that they are. I'm lucky to have the choice. I know others don't and I wish we all did. But I'm appreciating making the decision that doesn't come natural to me, and finding unexpected joy.

Potential

(colored with blueberries, onion skins, and turmeric)

There exists within each of us a power to become. Masking ourselves does nothing to hide the reality of who and what we truly are, even if we don't see through our own hard shells. But there is one that knows us intimately and sees us as beyond the embryos that we are. He holds us up to the light and deems us good. He gives our souls warmth to come through cold and famine, clear through to the spring that gives us life. He IS the life, and today, in the filtered light of stained glass windows He found me and gave me new hope and new joy. I cannot deny the transcendence of pure love that I felt today as my heart rang out in song. In Christ I am alive, and my potential is limitless.

Cultured

As one of many attempts to create my own little factory of friendly bacteria, I recreated a jar of Kimchi from my co-op that I loved, but with red cabbage. Not the same, but not awful. Infinitely more colorful. I have batches of carrots and traditional napa cabbage brewing as well, and in another day or so I'll have a verdict on how they turned out. Who knew it was possible to develop a craving for something that has sat out on a counter for days?

Doesn't seem delicious to you? Maybe raw, vegan, honey sweetened almond fudge sounds better? Yeah, I made some of that too, and it's almost as addicting as the sour veggies.

Sympathetic to Empathy

(cross posted at The Exponent)

For as long as I’ve been socially aware, I’ve struggled to know just how much of myself I should share with others. I’ve never had trouble playing the role of listening ear or shoulder to cry on, but when it comes time in the give and take of conversation, I can’t always balance the ability to respond empathetically with the need to express sympathy. My need for validation of shared experience drives me to show that I understand what someone is going through because I’ve been there in some way. But at the same time, I want the people I care about to know that I see their problems as unique to them and that I understand their need for support that isn’t divided.

The thing is, I never really understood what I was doing until recently reading a fresh take on the need for empathy verses sympathy in dealing with others. Especially others that may be relying on someone for support and strength in a particular situation. In addition to my budding midwifery education, I decided not long ago to pursue training as a Labor Doula to gain experience in the childbirth field from an angle of emotional and physical support. In addition to partnering with the Doula from my own recent labor, I enrolled in a course from Childbirth International, and part of the very practical education includes a communication assignment.

In the written study material for this assignment, sympathy is defined as “sharing of another’s feelings”, and empathy is defined as the “ability to identify with a person”. They sound similar, but in conversation, sympathy involves a whole lot more “I”s and statements of solidarity, whereas statements of empathy utilize “you” in ways that make a person sound like a licensed therapist, i.e. “It sounds like you’re feeling angry about what she said to you”. You know, stating the obvious and all that. Doesn’t sound like the better or more natural choice in a conversation, does it?

That’s what I thought at first. So much better to help someone feel that you truly understand rather than dole out useless terms of unquestionable observation. Right? Until I read this suggested article, by self help author Andrew LeCompte. In it, he describes what he calls “true empathy” and how we can utilize our listening and feedback skills to help others realize their full potential by taking more ownership for their choices and actions. Suddenly, empathy isn’t just a way to identify what someone is struggling with, it’s a method of “listening for the other person’s positive intention or ‘hope’”. The article describes a scenario where one person’s reaction to a situation can change based on their perception of an outcome, rather than the actions of others. The author asserts that WE determine our reaction based on our hopes and intentions, and that in empathetic conversation, we can help each other to see the positive light of any situation and move toward it.

If this is true, then in our conversations with others we are in a position to either reinforce what their intial reactive feeling (snap judgment) toward a person or situation is, OR we can facilitate a way for them to see the positive potential and how they might go about making it a reality.

The author also points out that, “Hopes are the universal positive qualities and values that motivate our behavior….An amazing thing happens when we help another person get in touch with their motivating hope—they become conscious. The nature of their thinking shifts away from blaming people and events. Instead their thinking becomes positive. They think about the good things they want and begin to think about how to bring them about.” By more actively using our responses in conversation, we can help others to be more aware of their intentions. By raising their awareness, we can help others to see that initial judgements may have set them on the path to viewing a situation from a limited angle. We all have a way of self-reinforcing the reality that we assume is true by looking for evidence to back up our perspective, and at the same time ignoring indicators or facts that prove otherwise.

So how do we use true empathy to help others? Aside from a practical example in the article to show how this could work, LeCompte says we must “ask them to clarify what they are hoping for” rather than reinforce negative judgements. Not always easy, and not something we may be in the habit of doing with friends and family, much less co-workers. But in relationships and interactions where it is vital that the person feel supported making a positive change or decision, we can make all the difference in how we choose to respond.

How do you usually respond to other people sharing frustration, grief, or other negative emotions? Do you tend to be sympathetic or empathetic? Do you think there is a place for both? Do you feel a need to respond differently to those you care about after reading the article? How does “true empathy” help us to encourage others to make positive changes in their lives and worldview? How can this shift in perspective help us to motivate others on the path to enlightenment or even a feminist awakening? Do you see a pattern in the way you comment on blogs? Is it usually sympathetic or empathetic, or maybe a mix of both?

Vision

Tonight I am thinking about a lot of things. It could be the raw chocolate I indulged in that has me so giddy, but I'm finally feeling something other than obsessive insecurity and doubt, and it has me looking to the future with more hope than I have in quite some time.

There are moments in this stage of existence that pull me into an embrace of comfort and familiarity as I am simultaneously thrust forward into newness and risk that allows me to finally catapult over the obstacles that were before me. A jump from one perspective to the next that places me on the other side of something that I didn't know existed until it was behind me. And then, suddenly, I am on the side of knowing.

I'm seeing people more clearly somehow. Knowing their struggles and their fears and doubts as surely as I know my own, as though we are connected by that string of insecurity that plagues even the most outwardly confident. I can see the woman searching desperately for validation despite her quick wit that shuts you down if you dare engage. I can see the woman confident in her uniqueness and alternative knowledge that secretly fears she has spoken too soon and misrepresented her abilities. I see a woman that doubts the force of what she has created and can't see the strength of her own influence, so backs off and wonders how to get back on top. And I see the women who are struggling to be known for themselves, but constantly pose next to others more well known to bask in popularity by association.

Raveling and unraveling.

Does it do me any good to see and know these things? Do I use what I have and give place to the truths that none of us really want to hear? I'm changing, but I'm still not sure most days what it is I'll become. Right now I'm firmly on the path to somewhere with my almond soaking and kimchi culturing. As I slather some coconut oil on nipples that have been nursed dry and head out to my first birth as a labor doula, I am keenly aware of the changes that have come and are coming. I'm moving further and further away from convention and convenience. And I love it. Down the path a little further I see hens at my feet, a crop of quinoa, and maybe even a cow to milk when my own milking is a thing of the past. Seems crazy, but this is a life I can envision more than anything I ever could before. On my own; producing, supporting, teaching, growing, feeding.

Speaking up

I am learning new things about myself all the time. New ways to share who I am and what I believe. New thoughts to peruse as I seek out understanding from myself and my creators.

This past week I traveled, baby in tow, down to Salt Lake City to visit family and friends and participate in a retreat organized by my mother with Carol Lynn Pearson. I feel strange laying claim to this, as I don't have the personal relationship with this icon of Mormon feminism and gay rights that my mother does, and I don't like to use other people to further myself. But it is what it is, and as I've committed to journaling more regularly, I thought I'd refocus on this little ol' blog that has served me well in the past.

Mostly, I want to highlight the things that I learned new from Carol Lynn before I forget. Out of all the wonderful stories and poems and advice, what struck me the hardest, and perhaps because it was what I was looking to get out of the day, was how to conduct myself in a way that allows people to hear me. Truly hear me and give what I say a chance.

But I learned this more from observing than from anything that was specifically stated. Carol Lynn began our day of discussion with an admonition to take what she said and apply it to our own hearts; our own way of viewing the world. She said that if we didn't feel right with something she said, that we should just throw it out. Let it go. Don't fret, it was just her own view.

What?! I thought this was the strangest thing I had heard in a while. How could we credibly listen to her opinions if she held them in such little esteem? If she thought we should dismiss her so easily, did she really believe what she was saying?

But then I got it. As I watched her and listened and explored my own reactions to what she said, it became clear that this was the way to get heard. This was the right way to share your hard earned knowledge or beliefs with others, on any subject. From religion to nutrition and everything in between, this was how to help others take a step toward greater light and truth. If we remove ourselves and our egos from the equation and allow people to feel comfortable in relying on themselves for affirmation of what we present, without pressure or judgement, we free them up to listen to the real source of truth within them. By simply presenting and then stepping back, we help others to hear us without reservation, and if what we have to say really has any truth, that truth will ring out.

What a revelation! It's not up to me to convince ANYone of ANYthing. Such a refreshing relief. I have been searching for a fail proof method of delivery for sharing information with others with tact and earnest honesty, but the answer is simpler and more lovely than I could have imagined.

The other lesson I learned from Carol Lynn, was to be the best Mormon I could be in order to have the ability to influence others and secure my reputation as I choose to speak out more and more. Again, surprisingly orthodox, but beautiful in it's simplicity and implementation. This is advice she appears to offer primarily to gay members that are looking to influence opinion of those around them concerning their worth as a person if they want to remain in the Church. But it applies equally to being an outspoken feminist. If we are shining examples of truth, obedience, love, service and discipleship, then who can speak against us? What can they say of us in the end? It is true I believe, that we are our own judges and that we must be true to ourselves. And staying in this Church necessarily means that we have a desire to do and be these things for ourselves. Else why stay?

I was also asked what I believe the Church has offered me that I wouldn't have acquired in life otherwise. I concluded that my morals and choices would be the same, but that my knowledge of Christ has been a gift that I am grateful for and the opportunities to serve Him and know of Him have been valuable. Even if I could have received those elsewhere, I am aware that much good comes from this source. Much good despite the bad has come out of Mormonism and from those that call themselves LDS. And that is no small thing. For undetermined reasons I have been planted here, and I can choose to bloom or wither. I don't have all the answers, but I do know what God is telling my heart and I do know that my desires for change are not evil or the makings of apostasy. I am on a path to wholeness, and I want my religion to offer that same wholeness to others.

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In parting, I was challenged to walk into Church with more confidence in who I was and what I could offer others. To share my thoughts even when I knew others would disagree with me, but to do it from a place of love and peace has been my goal for a while now, and I needed an extra push.

Unfortunately, today, I feel like I missed my chance. I sat through the most infuriating lesson on the Word of Wisdom that I have ever heard and didn't get to speak up and share my own very alternate opinion on what I have come to believe are some very important aspects of health for both our bodies and our planet, not to be taken lightly.

As one obscure quote after another was presented as absolute and doctrine to make everyone more comfortable with their own vices and lack of discipline, I wanted to scream. These were 30 year old opinions of old men supporting the easy route of continuing to do whatever we want to our bodies, our environment and our food economy. Nevermind that the majority of the lesson was spent on the well known Don'ts of overdoing drugs and alcohol! (Duh! really?! Is this 6th grade health?) By the time I realized that the section of Do's was going to be summarily dismissed due to lack of comfort with the subject material, and that I was the only one willing to offer anything else, the time was up. A chance to prove myself up to the task, snatched away.

Bah. Next time.

100 years

In case you haven't seen elsewhere, my sister and I are launching a nonprofit that benefits women directly all around the world in honor of the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day. Check out http://www.talentsofsisters.org for more info on how you can be involved. Happy Women's Day!

Grounding and shedding

Truth comes in all forms. In various shades and shapes it is something that I think one must be trained to seek and to see.

In my own seeking, I found a truth today that I wasn't expecting. A delicious variety of enlightenment that usually comes on the heals of a significantly synchronous moment in time, and in this case, one that hit me with such force that I found myself seeing reflections of it the rest of the day.

It was in my morning yoga class, as 16 of us adjusted and squeezed ourselves into the small studio that has become my Saturday morning home. The instructor, a woman who has become a sort of guide and mentor to me, sat quietly in front of us and proceeded to open our practice with a few words about chakras, as she does every week. This week we were back to the root chakra, but something was different this time around. This time, in her measured and purposeful voice, she spoke of the need to be grounded in order to calm the higher mind. She spoke with authority of the various problems that feeling base-less can cause. Social anxiety, over-thinking, paranoia, and just feeling disconnected and less than confident.

As she spoke, my eyes began to burn. Here was truth being spoken to me with such clarity and concern that I almost couldn't contain the mixture of panic and relief at recognizing the nakedness of my experience. I have been struggling with this lately. Struggling to let go of the analyses that run rampant in my head. Struggling to give up my attachment to the opinions that others have of me. I have been grasping in vain for something to hold onto that could give me lasting peace from the anxiety that I feel when I give other people power to affect my sense of self. I have been disconnected, not confident, paranoid and behind the capable facade of organized effort and can-do attitude, I was a mess.

Ungrounded. Uprooted by pride and delusion, greed and aversion. And nothing that I was doing was helping me to not obsess over relationships gone sour or allowing people to make me feel unworthy of love and concern. I knew it was I who chose to feel this way, and that to blame others would be to give them power, but I couldn't escape the black hole that was my mind. Functioning? Yes, I was masterfully completing tasks and forging ahead on projects, but at night, when the actions were irrelevant, I couldn't shake what I was tying myself to. Like being tied to a rock and thrown overboard, my doubts were pulling me down.

So when a door was opened and light began to seep in, I grabbed hold and flung it wide. I took full advantage of my time on the mat this morning and gave myself over completely to the practice. I put down my roots and for the first time, I think they may be taking hold. I know it will still be a process. I still have so much to let go of, so much to put behind me that I am attached to. And it truly causes suffering. But I am finding my place in this world. My roots are seeking out living water in the fertile soil of truth and love. Love for myself, and love for others because I see myself in them.

Now I can grow into the tree that I am meant to be. And with that, I'll share one of the poems I have written recently, though it's more of a mantra really, or a sort of salutation. I'm not really sure actually, but I have a feeling there have been similars written or recited before.

Anyway, I say this when I do Tree Pose in my daily practice; the difference is that now I believe it.

I am a tree.

I give

shade

shelter

sustenance

I

shed unwanted excess in the Fall,

conserve resources in the Winter,

send out new growth in the Spring,

and soak up light in the summer.

My roots grow deep

in search of living water

to support

and sustain me

My branches reach high

without limits

toward that which gives life

and power.

I am a tree.

Learning

In my studies to become a labor doula as part of my desire to support women through childbirth, I have learned some things that have surprised me by the emotional impact they have on how I view my place in the world as a woman.

In the section on doula skills specifically, there is a sub topic that covers a brief history of midwifery and woman supported childbirth. It's mostly stuff that I already knew, but with some extra details that have really put me in the place of my predecessors throughout recent history. The sheer number of women that were tortured and killed or burned alive as witches in the 17th and 18th centuries, simply for acting as healers and labor attendants (as they had for thousands of years before) is astounding and depressing!

As I read of women being falsely "proven" and tried because of the insecurity of men that were attempting to conquer the role of primitive health care provider, something in me swells up in anger at the injustice of a patriarchal world that has allowed such monstrosities and continues to perpetuate inequality and gender violence today.

I have tried to imagine what life would have been like to be a woman 300-400 years ago. To have a passion for spreading health and healing to those around me. To want to offer support to my fellow sisters as they labored, yet to fear the accusations of power hungry men that could send me to a cell to be stripped and shaved and cut to prove or "cure" my association with the devil, and then to most likely burn me, alive or dead. What horror to live in! What a perfectly optimal excuse to subdue women and keep them weak and at home.

And as I imagine the lives of the women before me, I have to acknowledge the lives of the women next to me. Separated by oceans and borders perhaps, there are sisters alive today that suffer lives of fear and brutality, all because they are women. Women that have a desire to help other women, to elevate and save and comfort. I have read stories of these women that risk death and torture to help their sisters in lands that are not free. Lands where the temper and arrogance of men still prevail to keep women low, and to keep them afraid.

This isn't right. Rape and abuse and murder and oppression are still with us in overwhelming numbers outside our own safe encounters with the world. And this must eventually come to an end. I believe it will. I believe that women will one day rise up and claim the equality that will abolish these injustices. We will do it together, and I want to say that I was part of the effort.

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I've really enjoyed my training so far through CBI. I have been connected with women that are also training to support their fellow sisters in various capacities all over the world. It has been wonderful to see the same issues I am learning about from a variety of global perspectives.

I am also officially on call as a back up to the same wonderful woman that acted as my doula only 7 short months ago. When she called to see if I could back her up with a client and asked if I could meet the client with her, I hesitated with the reticence that comes from self doubt and inexperience. But something told me to accept the invitation. So I went to the meet-up and was blown away by a confirmation that I was where I was supposed to be at that moment. Everything was so right, as if the Goddess herself had led me by the hand and told me what to do and say. I am so excited for the possibility of my first experience in supporting a woman through labor. Nerves are nothing compared to the thrill down my spine when I think of the beauty and power of that sacred moment surrounding birth, and being invited to share it with a new family.

Life is crazy these days, but I have put myself in this place. And if I had any doubt of what I am meant to be doing, or of my abilities to share the best parts of myself and my strengths with others, it is gone. I am on my path, and nothing can pull me away from my goals. No amount of negativity, jealousy, misunderstanding or hatred can bring me down. I am who I am, and I'm doing what is right for me. What freedom.

Updating the diet

So, oats make me sick apparently. Even gluten free ones. After a week of stomach cramps after breakfast I decided to cut them. And never cramped again AND lost 4 pounds in 2 days. Yeah, something wasn't right. I'm now down 10 pounds and feeling wonderful. Even if I AM now limited to quinoa flakes for breakfast.

Ohm mani padme hum

My religious intentions are as numerous as a string of mala these days. Strung along, one after the other. Similar in size and shape, yet distinct and purposeful, each owning a portion of what I want to send and receive in my communications with the universe.

It started with Christmas Eve mass downtown. We went to a service at the Cathedral of the Rockies and fell in love with liturgy. Spiritual elevation and community without boundaries. This was the feeling of free faith that I had been looking for. But I couldn't bring myself to go back. Resigned to return for Easter, I began searching for ways that I could express my devotion and find communion with God on my own.

Yoga has been a true gift. God is everywhere now. In the air that I breathe, in the function of my body, in the wooden flute that I hear. My divinity is connecting with its source. But I cannot share my bodhi with others. It's so hard to describe and to present even to my children.

So we've looked further inward and outward as a family. This past week we celebrated Imbolc with a candlelit dinner and a discussion of the change of seasons and the renewal that comes with the cycle of the year.

And on Sunday we had our very own Sunday School lesson, complete with rosary prayers and yoga beads. The girls learned the origin and use of The Lord's Prayer, Psalm 23, Psalm 100, Hail Mary, and the Magnificat. We even included a reading of the Shemah. They were a little bored by the time I was done reading and explaining, but then we did a yoga session together and talked about how to love and appreciate people of all faiths, all colors, all languages and all temperaments. We asked God to open our hearts to new experiences, and to help us be inclusive of truth, wherever we might find it. I think that part went really well. Even the toddling almost two year old sat on a pillow with her legs crossed and her arms open (until she got up and started throwing blocks)

There is so much beauty and truth in this world. So much to be grateful for, and so many people to love and be taught by.

Namaste.

A little random

These creeping cacti are from the Phoenix Botanical Gardens that we went to while visiting my sister. They horrify me just a little bit. I mean, look at them! Spiky and they're practically mobile!

It's been hard to find the motivation to write lately, and doubly hard when I don't usually have two hands for the keyboard. But I'm still going strong on my personal little food revolution. Still no wheat and dairy, but I've added a little fruit here and there. For Brian's birthday I picked up the aforementioned cupcakes to celebrate, but I remained true to my restrictions. Of course, I did get myself a chocolate coconut macaroon to indulge in - and I'm not sure that it was worth it. Certainly not light on the sugar. I didn't feel right for 3 days, so I went back to xylitol for a few to break the cycle again.

It's actually been harder this past week though than it was for most of January. I really miss nightshades (peppers, tomatoes, potatoes), something I wouldn't have guessed. Though my joint pain is substantially improved (albeit not gone completely) so I guess I'm going to continue on in this fashion. It's been fascinating to acknowledge the sacrifices that truly good health requires. And it's been doubly interesting to stop and consider which sacrifices are worth it. So far I'm okay with the way I'm going and I'm grateful for the new options that I've become aware of (homemade date-sweetened nut bars with cocoa nibs!) so I don't feel too deprived. But when I look at what I've given up in the form of discomfort and fatigue, I don't know how I could NOT live this way indefinitely.

Anyhoo, moving on. In other areas, I am currently immersing myself in doula studies. I decided to register for a course to become a birth doula since many of the books will double for my midwifery requirements. And I think it's a good idea to start from the perspective of support for women in labor, rather than medical attendant (which is not my goal in becoming a midwife). I'm hoping it will open up and help me to maintain the perspective that is my goal in serving women this way. And it is something that I can start doing now to gain experience and confidence in a birthing atmosphere without the demands of an apprenticeship. My doula from E's birth has also said that she would love to use me as her back up.

I'm also focusing on this at the moment because I'm waiting for the next phase of my midwifery course. It will be a little while before I'm deep into the textbook aspect from what I can tell, so I'm trying to be patient and productive in the mean time by getting as much reading done as I can.

I'm also plugging away at a new project that I'm very excited about, but won't be revealing until it's ready. Stay tuned though, it should be very exciting when it all comes together!

And when I'm not otherwise occupied with food production, studying, or blogging, I'm either meditating on my yoga mat, or playing with my babies. Because as thrilling as it is to be productive around the home or filling my head with knowledge and new ideas, my children aren't waiting for me. They're growing up fast and they need me. Physically, emotionally, needs and wants. All day long. And I've noticed that when I make them a priority in my day, I don't resent what they ask of me.

So that's what I'm doing and thinking lately. I've put pieces of myself in so many places. But my heart is still home with my family. And I'm always surprised at how happy that makes me.

Does anyone have any idea what this is?! We've seen them in multiple abandoned areas from Salt Lake to Reno. We have conspiracy theories, but we can't find any reference to them. Silos? Radio stations?

Ideals

Part of me wishes these were real lemons and not something so obviously fake as my centerpiece. But I would never waste real lemons as decoration, I love them too much! Which is a fascinating representation of something I have been thinking about lately. I've been trying over the last year or so to get my inner and outer life to a place where I feel more authentic and feel more harmony with myself and my surroundings.

Part of that has come in my exploration of Mormon Feminism and just Feminism in general, as well as how these beliefs and convictions affect my relationship with the divine and women across the globe. Other parts have come in reconnecting with my body, through birth and all the entrapments that come with that as I've explored how I feel toward my physical bits and pieces. This has been the catalyst for my emerging yoga practice, although I would say that the side effect has been not only one of greater physical ability, but also mental clarity and connection to my core. Another part of my journey has involved my (prolifically explored here) new eating habits and views toward foods and food sources.

Which I suppose is the point of this post. I have a wonderful online friend who knows her stuff (and how to share it) better than anyone I've met so far. She really does her homework on finding the most accurate information on many of the subjects that I'm passionate about, but haven't had the time or discipline to explore in enough detail. I think I've linked to her before, but I just have to share this post she recently created (at my request, you're welcome) about the details of eating local and making the most ethical, humane and healthy food choices, especially in the winter. She illustrates it all so well, that I think everyone should take a moment to consider what she so eloquently presents.

I am struggling to get myself to where I feel comfortable with my food choices. Not only for my body, but for my planet. And I'm getting closer every day.

I can't grow lemons here, but I can get them from my mother in California, home grown and all. I can't be a flexible waif on my yoga mat, but each day that I practice I get closer to the place that I want to be with my body and mind. I can't pretend that I'm not hurt by my lack of personal connections where we live, but I can strengthen my other relationships and build confidence in my ability to be a friend to those who understand me and need my friendship as much as I need theirs. I can't be and do everything yet that I want, but each day that I choose to try harder or make better decisions, is a day closer to the person I want to be in this world.

The good, the bad...

I made a very not delicious apple crisp on Sunday. The pastured butter and gluten free oats didn't like each other and it came out smelling like cheese and tasting very bitter. And the apples didn't cook down the right way. Oh well, I'll try again with some sorghum another time.

And last night we had fajitas. I bid a fond farewell to bell peppers as I'm giving them up, along with tomatoes and all nightshades for the next 3 weeks to see if my joint pain disappears. It's been better without sugar and with the introduction of yoga, but it could improve some more. Anyway, fajitas included teff tortillas for me, wheat for the others. Brian didn't seem to have a reaction, so I'm sure the cupcakes for his birthday are looking more appealing. And as an experiment I made some coconut flour muffins (cupcakes) that were actually quite good. So maybe I'll have a consolation prize for passing up the gourmet versions.

In other news, we had a family discussion of prayer and meditation last night and how we can use it to work on our inner selves in a proactive and positive way, or to help improve areas that we are having trouble with. We even made mala bead bracelets, which are basically rosaries for yoga and meditation. I'll add a picture when I get around to taking one.

As for tonight, we had sweet potatoes, and strangely, I had a lot of stomach gas. Not sure if it was related, but we'll see. We were also going to introduce some raw cacao, but I didn't get a chance to make anything with it before going to choir, so I'll try again tomorrow perhaps.

Still feeling good though. So good that I'm not really sure I want to go back to sugar. I know I'll have to eventually, at least with fruit for some color. But mostly I'm concerned with eating too much xylitol for too long. I think it's one of the safest alternatives for the short term, but liver damage and digestive issues can result from relying on it too much. And as it is probably the only reason I did so well this month, I'll have to find a way to exist with using the smallest amount of whole sugar sources that I can to replace it. Which shouldn't be too hard as long as sweet potatoes and fruit taste so sweet.