Word Salad

I thought I had a book in me ready to print until this past week at the Institute for a Whole Bunch of Cool Things in Rhinebeck, NY. About 35 of us sat with the book we were born to write on our laptops, in spiral notebooks and binders.

There are educators, entrepreneurs, parents, preachers, therapists, teachers, life coaches, life savers, strivers, survivors, even a couple of lawyers.

People from every walk of life, with all kinds of stories, baggage, dreams, and hopes gathered together in an attempt to help transform lives.

How often does this happen?

Wait, what am I saying? This happens in the yoga studio all the time. Classes are filled with individuals on journeys hoping to change themselves and ideally the world at large.

Maybe change isn’t the right word. Understand? Expose? Enjoy? Accept?

How hard could it be to write a book to assist in this transformation?

Sure is a lot harder than I thought.

I found out I don’t know much about putting a book together. Don’t get me wrong, I understand basic rules of grammar and sentence structure but; developing a hook, crafting a book proposal, establishing a platform, these are all things that are so jumbled together now that I can barely remember my middle name.

It gets worse with this simple question:

“What is your book about in three sentences?” Now I’m f*cked.

It turns out I don’t know much about anything these days, much less what I’m writing about. I’m not sure I can explain the difference between yoga and yodeling.

The only way I can describe my new vegetative state is by the phrase “Word Salad”, a somewhat disorganized string of incoherent ideas.

Yoga, kids, creativity, teaching, dancing, telling stories, humor, sins, virtues, acceptance?

I pride myself on tossing together some pretty good salads but there is little chance Panera will put them on the menu.

Before anyone thinks I’m upset, in a funk, depressed or miserable, fear not.

Three years ago, I’d have been so discouraged I’d have skipped the tenth vegetarian buffet at the workshop and gone out for a burger and a Bud.

This time I stayed put.

This is where I am in my writing career, right here, right now.

Breath in. Breath out.

People spend years putting together recipes for restaurants and cook books. They know kitchen tricks that a lot of us don’t. It’s their profession, bailiwick, forté.

Just because I want to join in their professional circles doesn’t necessarily mean it will happen when I want it to happen.

We have to know what we don’t know first. Then we get back to work, measuring, mixing, adding, whisking, beating and learning.

Acceptance of where we are right now, is the bowl holding all of the ingredients. Let the feelings of inadequacy or disappointment hang around until the meal is over and then toss what’s left into the compost.

Learn from the aromas and flavors around us. Good or bad, they don’t linger long.

Namaste- it’s okay, time to play, it’s not a bad day, thoughts ricochet, come what may, just might end up with a book someday!

Here We Are.

“Well here we are”, said Mom as we drove out of the driveway on Monday morning at 5am.

“What does that mean?”, chortled Dee from the back seat. Hysteria set in. I should have gone to the bathroom one more time before getting behind the wheel. We were on our way to Kentucky to see Mom’s sisters.

To say it was a command performance negates the fact that the 3 of us get along beautifully, but performance it was. Mom wanted to go and we wanted to be with her. Northerners, (in our family) have to perform for the Southerners at times. More like we need to prove the Northern relatives aren’t a bunch of dimwits, and power comes in numbers.

We have a hard time sitting and talking but we appreciate good stores and good food. Southern stores, Southern food.

We had our roles to play. Mom was the Big Sister (BS). Dee was the advisor (A). I was the driver (D).

The Advisor bucked up the Big Sister and the Driver spoke when spoken to.

“You are the BS, you call the shots”, reminded A.

“Wait…does that mean I get to call the shots with you?” asked D.

“Turn left for the mall”, said BS and A.

Funny how short that conversation was.

When the discussion got political,

“Not going there”, said A.

“Preaching to the choir”, added D.

“I wonder if it was wise to bring the girls”, thought BS.

“You are going to take off that awful jean jacket before we go to the party aren’t you?”, asked Sister T.

D nodded and wondered if her dress, without the jacket, would make her look fat. (Yup.)

A smirked.

BS ignored it all.

“I want chicken for dinner “, announced A.

“Not KFC I hope”, said the Southerner.

“Of course not”, said A, D and BS.

Luckily our cuz suggested a place started by the Colonel’s ex-partner. His contribution to the secret recipe may have included cooking the chicken until it was bone dry but it sure was good.

BS showed a sense of humor, diplomacy and kindness throughout.

A exhibited an uncanny ability to set up challenges. “Hey D, how many times can you include the word kale into the conversation”.

D focused on not having anxiety attacks while driving on 4 lane highway cloverleafs.

BS and D equate their ability to keep relatively calm due to yoga. A got it from osmosis. (Power in numbers.)

So what if you have nothing to talk about besides your children or kale?

So what if your outfit isn’t quite right?

So what if your dinner isn’t up to snuff?

So what if your flight gets cancelled and you are stuck at the Philadelphia airport?

Things happen and then then they are over.

Life is funny, I mean really funny.

When you take a moment to analyze impatience, insults, or irritation, you can always find humor.

Would you rather laugh or cry?

Here we are, but not forever.

Make the most of every moment.

Namaste- our Southern relatives are AOK!

hush puppies

Beauty is in the Eye of…oh whatever.

The cosmetic store was pretty empty. Apparently I’m one of the few in need of some makeup help today. My friend Nadia’s teenage daughter recommended a bronzer as something to use throughout the day to touch things up. God knows I need something.

The young saleswoman who pulled the short straw came over to offer assistance.

“I’m looking for a bronzer”, I said with authority.

She took me over to a section that didn’t look any different from the one in front of us, just different containers. She handed me a Kindergarten sized crayon. I started applying it to my cheeks. “Whoa, this is a bit dark”, I murmured.

“You don’t put it on your cheeks, you draw a number 3 from the middle of your forehead, out to your ear, back into the cheekbone and back out and around your chin on both sides of your face. You accentuate where you want contour and definition.”

This takes paint by numbers to a new level.

“I’m not sure that I want to define anything. I just want to look…uh…(pretty, perky, pulled together?)…uh…more consistent.” She walked me to another area. How was she choosing our path? Why don’t I ask her? It’s like when the salesperson says “That color makes your eyes pop!”.

Why? How?

I recently read that when going for a make-over you should find someone with your coloring and age. I wish I’d known that when I got the last one. He was an attractive, young, African American, gay man. The only thing we had in common was that we were both wearing shoes.

I don’t think I was clear enough about that fact that I don’t wear much makeup generally, have no reason to, and tend to forget what goes where. It was more like a 40 year old’s rite of passage. He was quite pleasant though and deserved his sizable commission.

Yoga encourages us to accept ourselves and that takes steady and consistent practice. Change and impermanence is a given. Physical abilities, appearances and attitudes can be altered in a second. Anyone who has slipped on the ice knows that, especially if you land on your face.

Practice means we work to control thoughts in our minds that feed impatience, irritation and irritability. Sometimes we need help, kind words from a friend, advice from a mentor, palette recommendations from a makeup artist.

A new shade of lipstick allows the mind to say “Okay the color looks great. Now can we focus on what comes out of your mouth not what goes on it?”.

Applying bronzer takes practice. Applying patience, calmness,  and kindness is, frankly, easier.

Reminder to self: You are not a beautiful, teenage redhead.

Namaste- I think pink is the shade of the day!

 

 

 

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