Let's Have a Look-See

 Last night I wrote about some of the ornaments that adorn my tree. I thought some pictures were called for.

Did I imagine my five-year-old self on that little balcony?






Don't EVER glue pretty paper onto ponytail holders... unless you need a good laugh at what you think is a good idea that turns out to be, well, dumb.  Tracy and I get a really good laugh every year when these come out of the box.

My dear friend Myriam got such a kick out of buying ornaments after a Jewish lifetime of not trimming Christmas trees. When my husband died, I found a story he'd written in which he imagined he was the wind. That fit him well, the freedom, seeing the world from above, the occasional mischief. One December Myr found a bagpipe ornament and thought that was perfect as a memorial to Lance as the wind. Sometime in transporting it, one of the pipes broke. She wondered if she should have it fixed. But being broken seemed a better fit.                                                                                                            

Living in the Adirondacks in the winter is not for wooses. My friend Jane Jenks epitomizes the self reliance Adirondackers learn. Pair this up with her artistic soul and you have someone who has never lost the "eyes of a child", is always learning and lives with joy. She made this little pack basket - I think it's missing little logs. I'll find some in the back yard.

I've known Danielle since she was 5 and now, as a young adult, she gives me beautiful ornaments. Love that.

And here's the clothespin Playboy Bunny by Lillian, my downstairs neighbor when I lived in an apartment in Glens Falls. What a hoot! The boobs are so low, I always wondered if she subconsciously glued them on where hers (and all of our) boobs end up at 80. I wish I'd spent more time talking to her but that was a time in my life when I was holding onto life's ledge with my fingernails, trying to make sense of life from the outside in instead of regaining my original self.

The little girl who gazed at a glittered house and saw magic.

Merry and joy to everyone.

Globs of Glittering Houses

Nearly every December since my early twenties, I've had a tree trimming party. Everyone invited was asked to bring an ornament. Now I'm 57 and I had to stop the ornament tradition as the trees just couldn't handle the ridiculous amount of ornaments I'd collected! You see, I don't buy those sturdy, stiff-branched commercial trees. I go out on my land and cut a tree that looks great in the woods, haul it home then frown at how puny it looks in my house. Then I laugh. The lack of branches actually allows you to see the ornaments better. This year I thought about trying to dig up the roots too, gradually bringing it indoors so it would survive the heat inside, then replanting it in the spring. Maybe next year. I know it's okay to cut down a tree in a populated forest because the trees around it often need some breathing room. Foresters have educated me.

Back to the ornaments. And why I love my tree so much. Every ornament on the tree has meaning. If I don't connect a memory to an ornament, it's a goner. I have my dear friend Kathy to thank for also remembering, especially all the ornaments SHE gave me. Cactus from Arizona, a telephone because we don't live close, ornaments from trips we took together. Her daughter began giving me ornaments, too, a beautiful fish, a jointed clown. I have an ancient fish that was my grandmother's, a red & green Star of David from Myriam who trimmed her first tree with me, the leather boot Jill made, the luscious fish from my brother, the clothespin droopy-boobed Playboy Bunny from my 80 year-old neighbor, Tracy's birch bark We-Know-Not canoe and the ridiculous collaged ponytail barrettes we made and thought we could sell. Needlepointed squares made by my late father and those from my mom that highlighted whatever was up in my life that year. Beth's pool table and a tree made of fused Mardi Gras beads, a project I did with 2nd graders when I was student teaching in New Orleans. There's Bill and Patty's maple syrup bottle, Dennis' turkey caller, the tap from a Genesee keg, Brenda's Red-Rum bear, Jane's handmade tiny pack basket, the God's Eye from the cook that was always chewing garlic. And so many more.

I have an ornament that was my favorite when I was a little girl. It was a little magical house that absolutely thrilled me. Ten years ago when I asked my father if I could have it, he said "Of course." I was so surprised when I saw it - a very plain cardboard house that happened to be covered in glitter with a couple of marker lines hinting at windows and a door. How jaded my vision has become! Picasso once said he spent his entire life trying to get back the eyes of a child. Boy, do I get that. So now when I look at this house, I can step briefly into the past, loving the feeling of how incredible that little glitter house looked to me as a child. Christmas through the eyes of a child - what magic.

So thank you to all of you who gave me ornaments over all these long years. My tree is a tribute to the magnificent friends and family I am so grateful to have. Ya know,  I have new friends and now I wish I'd asked them to bring an ornament. Next year. Better look for a bigger tree. In the woods, of course.

Letting Control Slide from my Hand

 So. What the heck was the gigunda lesson for me in 2011? (So many lessons, so little memory.)  It’s like choosing a favorite color. And that changes, then I always go back to Black (I love you Amy Winehouse, wherever you are now – everywhere?)  Black is the absence of color OR all colors, depending on which color mixing system you are abiding by. There goes THAT metaphor out the window.

Okay, back to my original thought. The lesson that popped into my head was around control. This freaked me out; since I pride myself on being a flexible, go with the flow kind of a gal. But I had an epiphany: anxiety that I have to manage dwells in that place between conjuring up a plan that is based on what I clearly want and seeing it manifest.  My working brain thinks if I do enough, keep after it, massage it, obsess over it, it will happen. Work, work, work. This is the only way. When did I get so dogmatic? 

Sometimes I need 2 or 3 or 5 two by fours to hit me in the head to learn a lesson.  Seems letting go is the biggie for me this year. Or, the ow-ie -hard-to-admit version: understanding I cannot control the outcome of the things I set in motion. I’d like to blame this on having lived through the worst thing I could imagine, losing my husband suddenly. Good excuse, eh?  Makes you want to control everything so that bad things won’t happen. But I know I’m fooling myself. This need to control goes back to the lesson I’m here to learn – trusting myself.  Trusting that whatever it is I’ve put my energy into is the best for me, not based on anyone else’s opinion. I’ve been weaning my way away from books and asking others about major decisions. Well, not completely. I still do “research”, but I learn more and more to trust my gut, elusive sometimes but lately I’ve had a few intuitive hits and I noticed!  I actually paid attention and acted on them before my analytical mind could talk me out of it. It felt good to be true to myself, knowing there’s always the possibility for misinterpretation. (There it is again, other people’s opinions.) I believe I can get better and better at noticing my gut as I learn to, dare I say it, trust myself.

Folks who seem to have a better grasp on their spiritual side appear to get the next piece: set it in motion then let it go and trust that the Universe/God/Spirit will take it from there. If it’s meant to be, it will happen. Trust. In something intangible.  Part of me is saying, “yeah, right.” That’s the part that wants to keep working on it, to keep controlling things. Trusting means that an idea that felt right that didn’t come to fruition didn’t ripen because it wasn’t the right time, place or thing for me to be doing right now. NOT because I’m a big fat loser who didn’t work hard enough.  THAT’S the lesson.

If I sound like I have it all figured out, believe you me, I am a constant wonderer. That’s why I take long walks in the woods. That’s where I think my plans through and often it feels like a conversation going on in my head. If there’s a sarcastic, common sense response to my mental queries, I know it’s my late husband popping in with his own two cents.  

I’ve already gained so much by letting go – the freedom to love another man, a feel for the okay-ness of imperfection and getting clearer on what I am not responsible for fixing. My biggest lesson of 2011 will be something to practice in 2012. And my favorite color right now is red-violet. The color of love with a bit of blues mixed in. Perfect.

What My Aching Back Has Been Trying to Tell Me

Yoga is great for a lot of reasons and I adore the strengthening, the stretching, the breathing. But sometimes I use that lovely stretch of time to think (BAD yogini!) And occasionally the light bulb goes off. This morning, as I lay draped over a bolster, several ideas I've had this week came together in an A-HA!

Two weeks ago my back spasmed into disabling me for days, forcing me onto the couch and into my head. I thought about aging, how I move, but most of all I've been trying to figure out, in the grander scheme of things, what it means. This back thing has been going on monthly since July. All the experts in my life have theories and it's all very helpful in figuring out the physical cause of this reoccurring, debilitating pain. I also want to know what my body is trying to tell me. I really think there are messages. Another reason I love yoga - I spent my entire life trying to ignore the body I loathed - I didn't grow the long legs I was convinced was the key to happiness. I got the short, built-low-to-the-ground made-to-push-a-plow body. Yoga has taught me acceptance, then appreciation. Now I look to my body for guidance. So, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME!

Three things jelled. I bought an online book called "The Effortless Life" by Leo Babauta. http://zenhabits.net/effortless/ Leo addresses the idea of living in a kind of flow, something I really really want. Less struggle, more flow. The little bit I've read has got me thinking about this busy life I thought would prove that I'm good. Smart. Not lazy. A productive citizen of the U.S.A.  Here's an idea - it's okay not to be busy. Wow. I hadn't even considered it.

The next day, I watched an episode from Oprah's LifeClass show, with my favorite life coach, Martha Beck http://www.oprah.com/oprahs-lifeclass/Oprahs-Lifeclass-Complete-Webcast-with-Martha-Beck-Video. What really hit home was the question "What are you most ashamed of?" I think "I'm not getting enough done." Martha points out what a big fat lie this often is. I've been beating myself up because of this crazy expectation I have of where I think I should be in my new coaching/artist life and where I actually am. But according to whose expectations? Holy shit. It's a lie.

Finally, yoga class this morning was the first time in the two years I've been practicing that I treated myself very gently. I swear I heard my body say thank-you. And that's when I realized what all these directives were trying to tell me: you're okay right where you are. Acceptance. I started to cry. Partly from the pain of pushing aside that critical voice in my head to accept me for who I am right now and partly from the joy of this place I'm finding my way to. I think my back wants me to ease up on myself. We are so often our worst enemy. I know, as a life coach, my job is to help my wonderful clients see themselves in the positive way others see them. It's a beautiful thing.

My bills are always paid, my house a lovely place to be and my friends all around me. I am healthy. Now it's time to cut myself enough slack so I can jump into the flow. Okay, maybe I'll ease my way in.

"If you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you." Brian Andreas

Will 2012 be the year you change your life?

Will 2012 be the year you change your life?

Taming My Own Gremlin

Last Saturday I ran my first Artsy/Life Coachy workshop, "Make a Mask, Meet Your Gremlin". The idea was to create a mask that would personify that voice in your head that pops up whenever you plan a change, take a risk. It's called a gremlin. Your gremlin knows you very well, having been with you for as long as you have judged yourself. It will tell you all the reasons to play it safe. This can come in handy when you think you want to see what it feels like to drive a Camaro 120 mph down Main St. but the gremlin noise I'm talking about is the voice that will stunt your growth, that beats you up and scares you, just when you need to be brave and push through fear to get to the next healthy thing in your evolution. My gremlin's name is How-eee, as in "How-eee ya think you're gonna do THAT?!?!" He's a smirking, know-it-all smart ass.

How-eee

So, you'd think a Life Coach running a gremlin workshop would be an expert at taming her gremlin. There's an expression in coaching, you wanna be able to "walk the talk". I'm just now climbing out of the dark, dank hole my gremlin pushed me into. First shove (voice in my head) was "The workshop participants were your girlfriend, who happened to be here that weekend, and her son & his girlfriend. And the studio's owner. People really aren't interested in what you have to offer. Your friends just feel sorry for you." 

I started the workshop by asking everyone to imagine doing what I assumed would be a very uncomfortable task (draw a self portrait) to set off their gremlin's chatter. Instead, everyone seemed really comfortable with the task! (My assumption.) Not what I expected. This gets How-eee chattering again ("I told you you didn't know what you were doing. See?") But my teacher training steps in - try something else. So I suggest everyone think of something they are asked to do that they are uncomfortable with. Then notice the self-limiting chatter that comes up. How-eee again: "It ain't workin'."

The masks were powerful, it seemed everyone was enjoying making them, painting them, adding glitter. Then one started coming apart. Disappointment. When we were done, I had a hand out that summarized what gremlin talk is and ways to tame it. I was so worried they would think the workshop was a waste of time (another shove by you know who) at least they had something to take home and look at. By the end of the day, I was in a "You Suck Hole."

So I worked through what went right, what went wrong. But the trouble was, I was mixing How-eee's opinions in with what I really know for sure. For example, unless I asked each person specifically, there is no way I would know what any of the participants got out of the workshop. How-eee tried convincing me otherwise. Debbie wrote about creating her gremlin mask in her blog Yoga in the Snow and it sent How-eee, sulking, to the corner. 

So, as I learn every single day how to "walk the talk", what I find is old habits (of thinking) and a powerful gremlin still shout in my head. The difference is I recognize him, and can tame him sooner than before. I believe, with practice, I will be able to identify his unhelpfullness right away and skip the hours and sometimes days of debate. The best place for me to "go" when this happens is to understand the lessons learned. Here's what I learned: 

1. My little town is little. I think this lends itself to being somewhat private. This doesn't lend itself to publicly discussing your gremlins. And not everyone wants to look inside their head. 

2. I have no idea what people are really thinking or what value they take away from what I offer. Unless they tell me specifically.

3. I realized I want to go to my own studio and make art. Give the workshop scene a rest for a while.

I had help climbing out of the hole. I talk with my Life Coach Ed Mickool weekly and he's the man who asks the questions that remind me that I know where I've stored the ladder to climb out of the hole. How-eee keeps moving the ladder but I think he's running out of hiding places. 

The Wolf Tree

While walking in the woods behind my house, which I do nearly everyday seeing as my trusty dog needs exercise, (yeah, yeah, me, too.) I came upon this huge Tree that was all gnarly at the bottom, then grew 2 trunks featuring lovely, gorgeous branches that reached way out and up high into the sky! WOW! It was like a Witch's tree at the bottom! Almost looked burned. But out of this blackened trunk grew 2 beautiful trunks, side by side, swaying in the breeze. Ahhh, I found a symbol for my life: Rough start (in MY mind, anyway), then I met & married Lance & and we grew together, strong base but flexible in the wind, always reaching for the wide open sky. I was so excited. I visited this Tree often. I made my art students dream up personal symbols and drew my Tree as an example. I loved this Tree.

Near this Tree is a blackberry patch. My dear mother-in-law, Carol, makes one of the best blackberry pies around so I invited her to pick berries with me so she could grace us all with her amazing pieness. Carol is one of the coolest chicks on the planet, a Seattle raised, Adirondack hardened story teller who combines her no nonsense survival skills with her West coast sensibility of tolerance and common sense. Needless to say, I have great respect for her. So I proudly told her all about my wonderful Tree, the symbol of my life and marriage to her son. She paused, then blurted out in disgust "Why, that's a WOLF tree. Wolf trees are good for nothin'. And they suck up all the oxygen and deprive the trees all around them." I was mortified. Flabbergasted. How could she dis my Tree like this? I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing.

We picked our berries, chit chatted (I still didn't know what to say) and walked home.

Fast forward to telling Lance what happened. He just laughed and explained to me that his father had been a man who harvested wood for lumber and trees like this mighty white pine were not only considered garbage, but also a nuisance since they grew tall and shaded the more desirable trees. He thought the comment about sucking up the oxygen was weird but maybe what she meant was nutrients in the soil, everything that the profitable lumber trees struggling all around it needed to survive and grow. Somehow they'd been named Wolf Trees.

Incredible how differently two people can look at the same thing. I have so much to learn.

By the way, we did have some great pie, I still visit the tree but have decided a boulder I've met is more to my liking as I can wrap my arms around it. I told Carol this story years later - she had forgotten all about it, and in an incredulous voice said "I did THAT?" I love that lady.

Getting Here Holding the "F" Word's Hand

First step, look the "F" word (Fear) straight in the eye, grab the wheel and motor on - hopefully while your friend with the mad skills holds your hand. Or rides with you into the abyss.

That's what just before learning a new computer skill feels like to me. Abyssmal. I've said the left side of my brain was swallowed up by my overactive right side. But THAT certainly keeps me safe from taking responsibility for learning something new, eh? I can just hear my gremlin yackin' at me "You were never good at technology" or "You can't remember what you did cause you don't do it enough" or, well, you get the picture.

Step 2, for ha-ha's start reading a Feng Shui book ("Move Your Stuff, Change Your Life" by Karen Rauch Carter), make some simple changes around the house: move objects, add chimes, drape red lacy lingerie in the office (that's the Relationship corner of the house), a purple scarf

in the kitchen (Prosperity) and start watching things change.

Best of all, open wide the shut door to the Helpful People room and WA-LA! Enter my friend with the mad skills - in using computers, writing blogs, among many other things.

Step 3, crack up. My irreverent side is laughing its ass off. Add purple scarf, get commission?!?!

The Life Coach in me sees Feng Shui not so much as balancing Chi. (While the reverent side wonders.) I see fantastic metaphors that keep my intentions right out front, in my face. As a Visual Artist, the visuals are MUY helpful. So, does that mean

clarify what you want, put up reminders = attract it?

Do I look like an advertisement for "The Secret"? Nah. I'm a Life Coach and I know this is the FIRST step. Then it's action, steps to take, plans.

Remember the "F" word? It always hitches a ride when I try something new. So who do you have to be to "Feel the Fear & Do It Anyway"? (Susan Jeffers) Bold, pretending to be fearless until you've driven past it. Not into the abyss but into the land of My-Synapses-Are-Connecting! Yee-HA! I GET IT! I DID IT!

Step 4? And here is what IT is, this time: my first blog here.

There's something irreverent about controlling Fear. That appeals to my Artist/Outlaw sensibilities. I hope I remember that next time I try something new.

Today my Life Coach, Ed Mickool, pointed out that the more irreverent you are, the more you know yourself. Hmmmmm.

He also asked me to Feng Shui my Fear. I'll write on that another time - I need to motor on down the hill to grab that mad skills friend of mine and give her a big hug!

Puttin' it in park. I'm here to stay.