Tag Archives: breakthrough

Perfect Moment Monday: Shiny things

This is on my nightstand. No reason .

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We’d made a deal, Tessa and I. If she could go four days in a row without any arguing with me — not over clothes, homework, TV, eating, bedtime, bathtime or anything else — she could get her ears pierced early for her birthday.

(Secretly I half-predicted enough false starts to take us all the way to her 2012 birthday.)

This arrangement was set on a Thursday night.

Friday was very pleasant as Tessa was on her best behavior. Granted, during the school day she wasn’t with me, but during the times she was, I heard “OK, Mom!” over and over.

Hear that? The angel choir?

Saturday and Sunday were the same. No fights with her brother. All chores done happily. Appropriate clothing chosen. Agreeable to a fault. Toys put away.

The transformation was amazing. I no longer had to exert such control over her because she was now controlling herself.

Which, of course we noticed and praised and reinforced in every way we could think of.

I wish there were more of a plot line (well, not really), but Monday went off without a hitch, too. So Tuesday after school, Tessa and Grandma and I went where every pre-teen girl on the planet seems to go to get her ears pierced (do you know how many such videos are on YouTube??):  Claire’s.

And Tessa grew up from this:

to this:

In more ways than one.

I am quite enjoying this new relationship with my very grown up girl.

Ear Images: © WriteMindOpenHeart.com. May be used only with attribution and linkage.

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Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.

Once a week we engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world. Everyone is welcome to join.

To participate in Perfect Moment Monday:

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  2. Between Sunday night and Tuesday night, write up your own Perfect Moment.
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Once you make a Perfect Moment post , you may place this button on your blog.What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of? Visit these moments of others and share your comment love.

 

Perfect Moment Monday: Swearing on

Back in high school, I went skiing with our church’s youth group. It was miserable and I swore off skiing forever.

That was before I had a husband to please. Six years ago, I succumbed to said husband’s requests to ski again. It was still pretty miserable (especially on my left, black-and-blue hip) and again, I swore off skiing forever.

That was before I had children to please. In January, my extended family shared a weekend in the mountains. Only my parents and I remained in the cabin while the others skied. When Tessa and Reed returned from the slopes, they plaintively asked me if I would pleeeeeeaaase try skiing so that we could do it as a family. (Coached — ya think??).

I was momentarily touched and said yes, I would try again sometime. Hoping that they would forget.

Well, they didn’t, and this past weekend we four hit the slopes. Even I!

One thing that made me hopeful is that since my last foray onto the slopes, I’ve taken up yoga. In theory, my balance should be better and my core should be stronger.

But you know what made the biggest difference between the last two times I tried and now?

This time, I cared not a whit what anybody else on the slopes thought of me — in fact I didn’t even notice other skiers and snowboarders. Previously, I was paralyzed by the thought of what I might look like to all the hot-doggers on the slope — I foolishly let the imagined thoughts of others derail my efforts. This time, I was fully in myself, focusing only on the task at hand.

Another motivator? This is my era of facing fears.

I took a group lesson with “Dutch,” a 60 year-old former stud with a current swagger, who looked and sounded like Ah-nald. After learning the basics of moving around in skis, we headed uphill on the magic carpet and later graduated to a small ski lift. Getting off it was the scariest part of the lesson; I bobbled a couple of times.

And got back up.

The kids were taking a more advanced lesson nearby, and would cheer me on whenever we were within shouting distance.

Other than getting off the ski lift, I stayed upright almost the entire lesson. After my 5th or 6th run, Dutch commented on my style. “Lah-ree! You have SOOO much cahn-trol. In fact, you haff 110% cahn-trol. Could you give up a little bit of cahn-trol?” Belly laugh.

Clearly, he didn’t know me.

The half-day lesson ended at lunchtime and Roger, fresh off the double diamonds, skied down the bunny slope with me. “Did you have fun?” he asked, hopefully.

I couldn’t say that I had fun. I could say that I accomplished my goals by showing up and booting up, by finishing the lesson, and by showing my kids that it’s all about trying, even if you’re grown up.

And this time, I’m not swearing off anything.

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Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.

Once a week we engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world. Everyone is welcome to join.

To participate in Perfect Moment Monday:

  1. Follow this blog.
  2. Between Sunday night and Tuesday night, write up your own Perfect Moment.
  3. Use LinkyTools below to enter your name (or your site/blog name) and the URL of your Perfect Moment.
  4. Visit the Perfect Moments of others and let the writers know you were there with some comment currency.

Once you make a Perfect Moment post , you may place this button on your blog.What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of? Visit these moments of others and share your comment love.

Perfect Moment Monday: Changing my mind

For over a year, I’ve been making a conscious effort to re-examine thoughts I have about myself, and to ease up on locking my limited self in boxes.

I did so last January when I morphed from the woman who couldn’t bear to think about LASIK to the woman who sees clearly now.

My recent perfect moment has to do with salamba sirsasana, more commonly known as headstand. And no, I didn’t do one.

One thing to know about salamba sirasana is that you don’t really stand on your head. The top of your head barely touches the ground. You’re supposed to balance instead on your forearms, so the pose requires shoulder and core strength. Like other inversion poses, headstand is terrific for circulation, for brain function, for digestion, and for seeing with a new perspective.

The box I had myself in?

  • I hate being upside down.
  • I couldn’t do a headstand even if I wanted to, which I don’t.
  • I’m not strong enough.
  • The pose is always going to be way beyond me.

I would watch enviously as my fellow yoginis (I’m looking at you!) would ease into salamba sirasana in the middle of the room as if it were no.big.deal. Watching them generated decidedly un-compassionate and un-yogic thoughts.

I spent 4 years practicing yoga before I peeked out of the box. About 6 months ago I ventured to try salamba sirasana against a wall. The first time I did so for about eight-tenths of a second. From one of the next 25 times I tried against the wall — each time getting a little longer — I ended up with a small burst blood vessel in my eye.

See? I said to my scared self. Safer to stay in the box.

But my brave self prevailed, and about 2 weeks ago I was able to not only maintain a headstand for several breaths against the wall, but also to move my feet away from the wall.

This was huge.  I could now sense in my body what the pose feels like. I’ve got some muscle memory.

This week in a yoga class, I attempted salamba sirasana in the middle of the room. I didn’t get all the way up, but I was able to hoist both sets of toes off the mat, poised to pike up. It lasted eight-tenths of a second, but made the crack in the box that much bigger.

The goal is in sight. I know that someday soon I will add salamba sirasana to the list of asanas I can do.

This sense of progress and of mind over matter gave me a perfect moment.

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Perfect Moment Monday is about noticing a perfect moment rather than creating one. Perfect moments can be momentous or ordinary or somewhere in between.

Once a week we engage in mindfulness about something that is right with our world. Everyone is welcome to join.

To participate in Perfect Moment Monday:

  1. Follow this blog.
  2. Between Sunday night and Tuesday night, write up your own Perfect Moment.
  3. Use LinkyTools below to enter your name (or your site/blog name) and the URL of your Perfect Moment.
  4. Visit the Perfect Moments of others and let the writers know you were there with some comment currency.

Once you make a Perfect Moment post , you may place this button on your blog.What Perfect Moment have you recently been aware of? Visit these moments of others and share your comment love.

 

All of me

I wait in the clearing for them to join me. It is my celebration, after all.

The sun is shining, bathing the lea in a warm glow. There is an entire meadow of soft greenery for us to dig our toes into. Nothing sharp, nothing dangerous, nothing to mar our time together. There is just the slightest breeze. The sky is the most pleasant timeless blue imaginable.

The first to arrive is a girl about 8 years old. Her skin has a sage tint, the downshot of difficulties in breathing. She brings me worms, leftover from when she gathered a bunch for her sister’s birthday. For some reason she thought worms would make a good gift. She is a bundle of fears, although she is well-fed and well-loved. I just want to hold her while she breathes. I want to breathe for her.

Soon, the 17-year old comes upon us, all arms and legs and attitude. She is skittish, like a colt, just waiting to be hurt. It’s because Doug, her boyfriend, has just dumped her for the 4th time. Well, they’ve broken up 4 times, but she was the dumper at least once. I think about telling her there will be many more heartbreaks, and that she’ll have ample opportunity to be on both ends of them. Each one hurts, but when it’s all said and done, she’ll be thankful that she and Doug (and the many that follow him) parted. I’d tell her, but she wouldn’t believe me. She hands me her diary, the one she just started and intends to keep for the rest of her life.

The next young woman arrives in a black gown and mortarboard and with a gold cord dangling from collar to waist. You can feel the promise that fills her. She looks both ready to tackle and tame the world and also petrified of taking her next step. She will face rejection after rejection before she comes on a job with a meager paycheck that will fulfill her emotional, if not monetary, needs. She is planning a wedding, but is having thoughts of calling the whole thing off. The burden of this thought weighs down her shoulders. I whisper to her, “listen to your gut.” She looks at me hopefully and shows me the keys to her first apartment. Where she will live alone.

A very sad woman enters our circle. She’s in her 30s and she’s been crying, crying, crying. The losses she has endured have sucked the very life out of her. She has beautiful, glorious child-bearing hips, which are going to waste. Her dreams have evaporated. She feels alone (although, still well-loved) and without hope. We instinctively move toward her, trying to sense if she will allow us to comfort her. I barely recognize this woman — the toll has been so drastic. Can’t she see that this chapter, like all the others before, will end? Her hands hold only tissues full of tears.

The next woman to grace the clearing has graying hair, still long like I knew she would. She is weary — after all, she is raising teenagers. The one knows how to trip all her wires and the other is just growing up and away too quickly. She has a peace about her…the peace that comes from repeatedly being shown that this, too, shall pass. Her eyes pierce through me, chiding me for my petty complaints about the drains of childrearing. She has brought me a watch — one that ticks twice as fast as normal.

We turn to receive our final guest. She walks toward the west and is a few inches shorter than the rest of us grown women –still a head taller than the child. She is white-gray in hair, fissured of skin, and her eyes and lips have lost several shades of their original vibrancy. For all her physical feebleness, the corners of her mouth are upturned. Her eyes are kind, and she exudes patience. Like the sky above us, there is something timeless about her. She extends only her trembling hand, representative of the enduring body that houses her immortal spirit.

These are my Selves. They have come to honor the fact that I have been on the planet for another turn around the sun. They bring me their tokens and dreams and insights. I envelope them and am enveloped by them. One by one, I welcome each into my heart, accepting the gifts they have brought. I acknowledge the gift she is, she is, she is, she is, she is, she is.

I am.

Image: Vic-Art

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