singmomartstu

Easter Hummingbird

LouiseFranklin — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 17:04:15 +0000

True to holiday form, I didn’t make it to yoga class, so I concocted a patio assimilation. After my haphazard renewal I lie in savasana on this beautiful Easter afternoon meditating to the peaceful sounds of spring. I am broken out of my cloud when a distinct buzz zooms over my body. My eyes crack open to see a shimmering blue and green hummingbird hovering intently over my French lavender bush. The hummingbird furiously floats from blossom to blossom, patiently extracting the sweet sustenance it so desperately craves. The hummingbird lives a life of hidden urgency, in every precious moment, starvation lies a rotation of the clock away. What this beautiful and delicate creature requires is complex, to support such a trying existence the hummingbird’s heart must flush it’s tiny body 1,260 times every second with liquid life. One might expect to see the anguish of an addict in every cognitive cell of this bird’s body as it hurriedly flies from fix to fix. Instead, the hummingbird flies with an audible nonchalance, buzzing with the patient enthusiasm of a kid waiting in line at a theme park. We could do well to learn from from this humble existence. It is not so different from our own. We must remember to fill ourselves with the air and grace of the hummingbird amidst the frenzied fury that consumes our days.

Moments

LouiseFranklin — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 04:39:33 +0000

And in this wonderful and invigorating and exhausting life I’m living there are these moments, in which I can’t even place a day or a time. I am lying in bed with Sidney while he clutches my body and soul in a vice grip. The sun hanging like a pendulum over that fluid border between night and day. The alluring world around us sinks into an oblivion of peace.

The Hang Over

LouiseFranklin — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 15:40:52 +0000

As gloriously wonderful as Wednesday sounds, I wake up Thursday morning completely hung over. Necessary consumption of copious amounts of espresso kept my mind at point during the five hour epoch of late night figure drawing. The surplus of perk quickly evacuated my mind attempting to escape through every extremity in my body unsuccessfully until about four AM. I lie in bed shaking and disoriented, arms and legs sizzling from the exit wounds. Half of me is missing. Sidney spends this night with his father, as I toss in bed like a jitter ball on hardwood floor. I’m lucky to sleep for the three short hours of darkness that remains. Today I am lucky, I arise promptly at eight AM, sleeping in by Sidney’s standards. I drag my ass kicking and screaming out of bed and into the car. I drive to yoga with the all the windows down, the wind breathing life back into my body. I must regain homeostasis before my other half returns.

Off the High Dive

LouiseFranklin — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 05:34:23 +0000

On Wednesday morning I stand with my toes curled over the edge of the high dive, exhilarated and only slightly panicked. I take a breath so deep that my lungs are about to explode and before I can even remember jumping I am falling blissfully towards the rippling turquoise expanse. Suddenly my face is overcome with a tingling sensation of vitality as I press toward the surface. I remain immersed in this pool of challenge, of serenity, and of knowledge for the entirety of the day coming up only to breathe.

Tuesday’s Confection

LouiseFranklin — Tue, 23 Mar 2010 22:02:07 +0000

Tuesday’s confection, fresh out of the oven, is the sweetest of the entire week. The entire day is spent contemplating the peaceful and stimulating accumulations acquired prior and supplementing them with empirical discovery through the virtuous eyes of a toddler. The little anxiety that inevitably creeps it’s way into my consciousness is usually kept at bay while I furiously check off my “to do” list during Sidney’s afternoon respite. Today, I got hit with a slightly larger punch from my faithful foe, when I got notice of my failed admission to one of my “back up schools.” I took a deep breath, as the disappointment and feelings of inadequacy filled my chest like an overflowing well. I dove down to the bottom, letting the pressure of the emotions increase with depth. Suddenly I felt Sidney’s arms around my legs. I look down at his big blue eyes and in them I see happiness, love, and devotion. In me, he sees a spring of plenty, flowing freely with all he could ever want or need. He led me outside, where we danced back and forth through our sprinkler of love. Two hours past like ten minutes. I am floating now.

Monday

LouiseFranklin — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 05:55:52 +0000

The weeks go by faster than a bag of almond M&M’s. That first bite on monday morning almost cracks your tooth, but by the time the your mouth succumbs to the savor you are in heaven. I probably would be chewing on this same devilish morsel until at least Wednesday if it wasn’t for my childhood crony, who in the midst of her own crisis, has come to my rescue. Kayle bravely joined the small town girl’s westward expansion coalition, as her eyes beheld the glistening Pacific Ocean for the very first time on a balmy August morning. It was on this very morning that she escorted me home from UCLA Medical Center with my newborn babe. Before Sidney could talk, we referred to her as simply, “The Baby Whisperer,” as she coached me through countless late night rocking sessions, coaxing me compassionately that indeed the crying would cease, and my heart would not break. Today we call her “Kiki,” but Sidney prefers barking to signify his dear auntie. So on Mondays, Kiki comes to my rescue enabling me to bite through and relish those second and third delicious chocolate covered yoga and anthropology M&Ms.

Trusting the Navigation

LouiseFranklin — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 00:36:29 +0000

I am finally starting to master the navigation system of my psyche. It has taken every second of my seemingly short lifetime nearing twenty-four years to even begin to know which way to flip the power switch “on.” This computer operates in an extinct language with an archaic operating system. I must have inherited this faulty hardware from one of my dear parents, or both? This internal GPS of mine has guided me into more ditches and lakes than I would like to admit. Is it not a testament to my growth that I am finding blame in a metaphor’s vehicle for the many missteps of my life? I also find irony here in the fact that I am stubbornly against actual navigation systems, I recently received a promotion from my bank in the mail boasting a free Garmin and I hastily threw the offer in the trash.

Virginia Woolf wrote, “Across the broad continent of a woman’s life falls the shadow of a sword.” On one side of that sword, she said, there lies convention and tradition and order, where “all is correct.” But on the other side of that sword, if you’re crazy enough to cross it and choose a life that does not follow convention, “all is confusion. Nothing follows a regular course. I have come to accept that I do fall into the “all is confusion” category, but I believe passionately that the insight and emotional capacity I have gained will bring immeasurable love and pleasure and fulfillment and peace.

Trust me, I don’t expect to receive these lofty affections at any specific time or in any numbered quantity. The point is, I know their achievement is possible. The more I let this posture take residence in my entirety, more moments of my experience are filled with these precious emotions.

Preserve

LouiseFranklin — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 07:05:32 +0000

I turn the street corner a distinct aroma permeates the air. As my proximity increases my heart fills with gratitude for sanctuary and apprehension for the vulnerability that will result. I am still new here, I rush and grab a space like a child playing musical chairs. I take my glasses off and the world around me fades into the gaussian blur. I tune into the metronome that gives me life; it flows in and out like the tides. For a fleeting moment, I am drowning in a sea of anxiety and fear and frustration. But as soon as it came in and around, it is gone, out to sea. This breath is my life preserver. For the next hour and a half I am floating in an endless ocean of peace, of serenity, of acceptance, of self. This is my yoga.

What is your life preserver? Please share.

www.poweryoga.com

www.byofca.com

“…that the world does not divide into…

LouiseFranklin — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 21:30:06 +0000

“…that the world does not divide into the pious and the superstitious; that there are sculptures in jungles and paintings in deserts; that political order is possible without centralized power and principled justice without codified rules; that the norms of reason were not fixed in Greece, the evolution of morality not consummated in England… we have, with no little success, sought to keep the world off balance; pulling out rugs, upsetting tea tables, setting off firecrackers. It has been the office of others to reassure; ours to unsettle.”

Geertz, C. (1984). Distinguished lecture: Anti anti-relativism. American Anthropologist 86, 275.

Quiet Your Mind

LouiseFranklin — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 08:30:09 +0000

In this modern world, information comes to us at the speed of light. The Information Age, as it is referred, is characterized by the ability of individuals to transfer information freely, and procure knowledge instantly that previously would have been difficult or impossible to obtain. Empirical observation is no longer the preferred method of discovery. For reasons unbeknownst, we wonder why we have trouble focusing; while we are constantly juggling every curve ball life throws us. In the few moments of solace I experience driving, while Sidney is restrained or perhaps even sleeping I blindly search for my iPod to change from Phoenix’s Love Like a Sunset Pt. I (my current favorite relax track) to my last remaining chapters of Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project. Before my task is complete my blackberry chimes a sound I’m sure I’ve never heard before so I must check it, and subsequently search it’s interface until I’ve found the source foreign sound. Meanwhile I’ve lost the iPod in between the seats so I much reach for it… etc. Need I continue? I am embarrassed to say that this is not an uncommon occurrence. At least I am aware that it is not OK, especially with such precious cargo aboard. Some time ago, I took the liberty of self-diagnosing myself with a mild case of ADD, in efforts to explain limitations I had experienced that were purely circumstantial. Although my I do have the genes for real Attention Deficit Disorder, the degrees to which I experience difficulty focusing rely purely on influences that I actually control, ie diet, exercise, sleep, etc. (all things I’ve touched on in earlier posts) I’ve learned that everyday, every moment I encounter a situation were I could possibly extract a few moments of solace, that I take it. Some examples…

Take an extra 15-20 minutes in bed after Sidney falls asleep to read.

Get to yoga every chance I get, and be happy about a day off.

Have quiet time in the car.

Leave the phone.

Turn the TV off.

Do one thing at a time.

Keep to-do lists to a minimum of 7 tasks a day.

Take part in some empirical discovery, relearn how to observe- drawing is a great tool here.

I’ve love to hear how you quiet your mind! Please share!