Tag Archives: the Tao

Win Some, Lose Some: The Tao of Luck

Or WinSomeLuzSome.com, as one clever person suggested as the new name for my blog.

But this post is not about the new name for my blog. That is still under deliberation. Honestly, I didn’t give this much thought to either of my children’s names.

This post is about the yin-yangy nature, the wobbly nature, if you will, of life. Of my life, anyway.

Last week I got an emailed notice of blog eviction. This week I got an emailed notice that I won an iPad. Last week I was searching the yellow pages for boarding schools for one of my beloved children. This week at parent teacher conferences, the same child was called a model student.

During this swell of good fortune, Roger and I went to a schmooze-fest last night at a local hotel, which was trying to court some meeting business. We were given raffle tickets at the door. Toward the end of the evening, his number was called — he won lunch for two at the hotel restaurant. Sa-weet!

Lightning couldn’t strike twice, right? Especially since I had already won an iPad earlier that day. But with the last door prize, my number was called. I won beaucoup points with the hotel chain, enough for a weekend away.

If I were a betting person, I’d buy a lottery ticket. But I’m not. I know not to get caught in the swell. Either the “good” swell (“swell” swell?) or the “bad” swell.

(I use the word “swell” because when I look at the line dividing the dualities of  black and white, it’s in the shape of  a wave.)

People say of the weather in Colorado, of the weather in Cleveland, of the weather in Vancouver and Melbourne and Geneva, that if you don’t like it, wait 10 minutes.

Perhaps this impermanence applies to life in general. The key, then, is to be rooted so firmly into your essence, your true, divine nature, that you are not swayed or broken by the stories that swirl around you, neither the “happy” ones nor the “sad.”

Years ago, I first heard of a practice Tibetan monks have of painstakingly painting mandalas out of grains of sand. Over the course of six or seven days, a team of monks will place grains of sand, one by one, into their work of art. By the time they are finished, they have a true, one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

And then they blow or brush it away.

The last part of their practice deeply offended me. How dare they destroy something that brings joy to people. How could they? Why so destructive?

But now, I am coming to understand. Creating and destroying. Winning and losing. Being happy and being sad.There is an ebb and flow to nature, to our own beingness, that makes life so exquisitely meaningful and whole. Half a tao symbol looks like, well only half of something. When we pursue only part of life and try to resist the other, we are not whole.

The monks demonstrate non-attachment to what they create. And soon I will say goodbye to Weebles Wobblog, my constant companion of the past 5 years. I will be sad.

And then I will renew.

As for my recent good fortune? This, too, shall pass. And I’m OK with that.


Welcome, new readers from Parenting magazine, the Opening Adoption Symposium, Adoptive Families magazine,  BlogHer,  Circle of Moms and elsewhere. Below are some of my favorite posts. You may also see  other articles favorited by my readers.

Pull up a post and stay awhile, and let me know you were here.

(To read ongoing posts, please scroll down.)


What does “‘real” mean? My daughter utters those dreaded words.

What if I weren’t adopted?” I abide with my daughter while she wonders.

Hotel Rwanda and open adoption parenting: response to reader comments.

“Why did she give me away?” My son asks tough questions. Insights to how to respond when your child begins wondering about birth parents.

On DNA: Nature? or Nurture?


The night my house broke up with me: A night with toddlers locked in my own personal a panic room.

*thisclose*: my near-death experience, which went unnoticed by everyone else.

You’re so vain. I bet you think this post is about you: the delusions of a former boyfriend.

If wishes were horses: and maybe they are.


Mom badge: I earned it. Holy crap, did I earn it.

Weddding invitation: a hint to the life we’d have together

The Brady Crunch: a fun title for a cursed time.

My one-and-only pregnancy photo: Paulie, me and Sunny D on Halloween. Funny (in a take-back-the-infertility kind of way) because I really was.

Family of origin of the species: this will explain a lot.

Infertility, freedom, spirituality

The View on Clomid: Melissa, Pamela Jeanne and I on an infertility panel at BlogHer08.

Core beliefs: a foray into political blogging, favorited because of the ensuing discussion.

My spiritual yin and my political yang: How I came to be a New-Age Libertarian.

How to live a charmed life: someone gifted me with this, and now I pass it on.

Grant us peace: vlogging with my sisters. Take 23.

Images: Health Jockey, Family.com, WriteMindOpenHeart, JewelBasket.com

Show & Tell: Tatt Two

We spent last weekend in Colorado Springs with 19 extended family members. Seventeen of them cheered at the Air Force/Army game (for the away team). But Tessa and I headed to nearby Manitou Springs for some girlie-girl time.

Manitou Springs is an earthy, small mountain town with an inviting personality. Tessa and I window shopped along the main street, played with toys in the toy store, sat on benches along the street, evaluated artwork in the many artisan stores, chatted with store-keepers, found a chocolate shoppe and had one of each (yum).

We weren’t really looking for anything — the ambling being the point. I just wanted to make some memories together. We got our chance at the last store.

The shop smelled of patchouli, and it offered tie-dyed t-shirts, peace signed clothing, Om symbols galore, silks from India.

And a woman who applied tattoos. Henna tattoos.

I didn’t even debate it in my mind. Tessa and I were gonna get tatted.

Tessa chose vining skulls. With bows.

I chose a Tao symbol encased in the sun. With moon and stars to balance it out.

It took about 10 minutes each to apply the henna paste to each of us. Deb, our artist, blew on some very fine glitter to adorn this phase.

We were to leave the paste on for as long as possible — 4 hours minimum, or even overnight. The longer we waited before flecking off the dried paste, the deeper the pigment would go and the longer our tattoos would last. Palms are especially good at holding in the dye.

Tessa went swimming in the hotel pool later that night, so her paste came off on the early side. But I kept mine on until the next morning.

My henna paste and Tessa’s henna tatt

Tessa’s beribboned skulls

My yin/yang

With luck, I’ll still have a visual memory of this day on Christmas.

See what my classmates are showing and telling over at Mel’s Show & Tell.