a process of becoming...

blessing

2012-01-28T10:26:00.000-08:00

I wish you could all be here to experience this exhibit. It has been such a blessing to me and many others. I'm going to take photos of the exhibit tonight and begin to share my experience of it with you soon.

For now, I want to share the following words - written by my friend Heather to bless the bodies of participants at Body Orthodoxy. It is 1 of the first things people read when they enter the exhibit. May these words also bless you and your body today as you slowly & gently take them in~

Thank you heart for beating continuously and working hard on my behalf.

Thank you feet for all the miles, anger, cowardice you travel.

Thank you arms for giving love, holding love, and groceries and crying babes and resentment and apathy and hope.

Thank you thighs for enduring the commentaries and pinches and (in)frequent disdain or fantasized flurry.

Thank you calves for taking me up and down the stairs, up and down, up and down.

Thank you breasts for being a source of life, pleasure, and connection.

Thank you genitalia for being slow or fast to orgasm or not all; thank you for being with me and for me -patient and reparative.

Thank you neck for gracefully supporting my head and mind as it moves and jolts about life.

Thank you eyes for seeing and seeing and seeing and seeing and being able to shut even when I refuse.

Thank you buttocks for your strength and endurance.

Thank you tailbone for alarming me when I have sat too long.

Thank you elbows for your funny bones, I learn how to curse very creatively.

Thank you tummy for carrying stress and uncertainty and butterflies and ambivalent fat.

Thank you body.

Thank you sweet, kind, languaged body.

lava sky

2012-01-24T18:33:00.000-08:00

My head was down, & my gaze fixed on the sink full of dishes. Grasping for any remnants of energy, I begrudgingly attempted to wash dishes & prepare food at the end of another long day. Then in a matter of seconds...

Light

Cascades of colorful, glowing light. The dishes in the sink were suddenly pink, the soap, purple, and my hands, orange. Initially confused, I lifted my head and saw the source through the kitchen window.

I immediately dropped the dishes, grabbed the camera & the dog, and sat on the porch to absorb the sudden, glorious burst of color that filled the world for a full 8 minutes. I smiled for all 8 minutes, snuggled playfully with Pal, & breathed the color & light into my weary body. What a gift.

body orthodoxy teaser

2012-01-23T16:53:00.000-08:00

The Lord is for my body.
My body is for the Lord.

The Lord is for my body.
My body is for the Lord.

The Lord is for my body.
My body is for the Lord.

sloooowing down - or trying anyway

2012-01-20T21:43:00.001-08:00

As you know and are likely tired of hearing about, I have been trying for more than 10 years to slow down. Sometimes, I succeed at doing this. Sometimes I don't. There are some seasons of life that allow more slowness than others. I have found myself in yet another far too busy season of my life. I have every intention of slowing things down, but it always seems to be a gradual process - shedding 1 manic, grandiose, compulsive, can't-let-go layer at a time. I might bleed to death if I try to strip all the layers at once. I suppose it makes sense that achieving a truly slow pace requires a slow transition in getting there.

One of the little steps in the slowing direction happened last weekend. It meant seizing the rare off-call moment for a weekend getaway with Baine & Pal. Alas, we made this cabin on an equestrian farm our home last weekend, and it was wonderful.

Flowers in every room. Love.

Cookies, of course. I'm never too busy to bake these.

Agility Training

We look like a special Olympics team in this sequence.

Special or not, it was fun. And a good step toward slowing things down. Baby steps.

body orthodoxy postponed

2012-01-19T13:11:00.000-08:00

For those of you who aren't in the Seattle area, this is what's going on right now:

Unfortunately, this means that Body Orthodoxy has been postponed a week. I'm sad about the change &, as a former Montana resident, don't completely get the postponement. But alas, I'm still VERY excited about the exhibit. For those of you planning to come, all the details are the same - just a week later. I look forward to seeing you there!

body orthodoxy

2012-01-14T16:31:00.000-08:00

“There is nothing in all the world more beautiful or significant of the laws of the universe than the human body. In fact it is not only among the artists but among all people that a greater appreciation and respect for the human body should develop. When we respect the body we will no longer have any shame about it.” -Robert Henri, The Art Spirit

In collaboration with many other talented artists, I will have my first public debut as an artist in less than a week. My medium? Knitting. More specifically, I have knitted body parts which you'll be encouraged to touch & explore. :) Yep. You heard me. It has been quite a humorous & healing process for me to do this, and I look forward to sharing more about it with you soon.

Meanwhile, if you are in the area, I promise it will be well worth your time to come check out the exhibit that I'll be sharing with many other artists who are using various mediums to communicate about and connect with the human body. "The intent of the exhibit is to open up your senses, bring thoughtful attention to your body, and offer you a renewed sense of reverence and hope for the body."

As described on the above flier, the exhibit will be open for 4 nights. There will be a special performance on the final night for which you can purchase tickets in advance or at the door. You can find more info & the latest updates here. I look forward to seeing you there!

"Get Right With Your God"

2012-01-05T17:24:00.000-08:00

Wow. This is a beautiful, powerful, sobering story. Regardless of your views on the death penalty (a topic on which you may be a surprised to know that I have very strong opinions), ;) this is such a good story. And it's a dude from Mississippi with a definite air of no-nonsense straight-talk - which makes the story sink that much deeper into my Tennessee/Mississippi bones.
So check it out. Just click this link, push play, and open your heart.

happy new year

2011-12-31T21:20:00.000-08:00

superheroes & princesses

2011-12-29T16:15:00.000-08:00

All I know to say to her is “Amen” & “I’m sorry.” My heart breaks for her, because I know this is only the beginning of a long journey. My heart also jumps for joy for her righteous anger, unapologetic strength, & courage (and clearly that of her parents).

the creative process

2011-12-27T14:38:00.000-08:00

1) play...

especially outside. The imagination is born within the context of play.
2) imagine...

any variety of concepts for creative projects. Actively & passively absorb inspiration from blogs, hikes, children, friends, even malls. ;)

3) gather supplies that inspire...

a) pine cones & sticks from the great outdoors
b) favorite colors of wool from infinite yarn stash

4) Smell, pet, & gaze at inspiring supplies. Then repeat Steps 1-2 as many times as needed.

5) Commit to an idea & gather the remaining supplies...

6) Create & proudly display final product.

a christmas gift for you...

2011-12-24T19:10:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite cookie recipes - Oatmeal Raisin Chocolate Chip Cookies (because every cookie should have chocolate in it.) I've tweaked the recipe here and there to make it tastier & ever so slightly healthier, and I thought I'd share the final product here with you. Baine & I will be eating these tomorrow to help keep our digestive tracks in relatively decent order in the midst of many of tasty Christmas indulgences.
Ingredients:
1 cup butter
1 cup (unrefined) sugar
1 cup sucanat (or brown sugar)
2 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1+ tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg and/or cloves
3/4 cup (unbleached) white flour
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
3 cups (uncooked) rolled oats
1 cup raisins
1+ cups (dark or semi-sweet) chocolate chips

Process:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees
2. Cream butter, sugar & sucanat. Add eggs & vanilla. Mix thoroughly.
3. Add baking soda, salt, and spices. Mix well.
4. Gradually fold in flour and then the rolled oats, raisins, & chocolate chips.
5. Drop dough by the tablespoon onto cookie sheet. Make sure to eat some of the dough during this process and lick the spoon when you're done. This is a crucial step in the process. :)
6. Bake about 8-10 minutes for a soft cookie (DEFINITELY my preference) or around 12 minutes for a crunchy cookie.
7. Eat the cookies while they are still warm. Close your eyes, chew slowly, & smile.

joni

2011-12-21T16:33:00.000-08:00

comforts. offends. remembers. pricks. stirs. evokes.

love.

first Christmas

2011-12-17T14:08:00.000-08:00

Many of you have already seen these Christmas pictures that my brother-in-law took of Baine & me a few years ago. I dug deeper into our photo history a few nights ago to re-discover the following. We took these the first year we were married - before the digital age, so these are pictures of the pictures.

It seems that Team Craft has little capacity to take serious pictures. At least we have fun along the way, I suppose.

And here's a bonus picture from college. This was a trademark move of mine - for obvious reasons, I'm sure. I did this creepy elf/troll dance thing with this face. Ah, college.

mariee sioux

2011-12-15T22:56:00.000-08:00

day 1

2011-12-12T20:23:00.000-08:00

Team Craft has just completed Day 1 of our self-created, experimental, in-home/yard circuit training. If this training goes anything like previous ones (running, weight-lifting, yoga, lawn bowling), it will last no longer than a few consecutive weeks due to low morale in half of the team's membership (me).
I'm hoping it will last longer than a few weeks. For now, I'm enjoying the post-workout endorphin high and post-push-up shaky hands. I'm also having way too much fun envisioning mammoth strength in my legs, marital competition, and clean, fresh blood pumping regularly through my heart. So here's to early new year's resolutions (which I seem to make about 8 times a year), health, and grace in the midst of our (my) inevitable weaknesses.

'my' tree

2011-12-11T15:33:00.000-08:00

I often sit by this tree at a park before or after therapy each week. I took these pictures a couple of weeks ago before it lost most of its leaves. The contrast of its vibrant yellow leaves on the gray lake against the dark, Seattle mist was wonderful that day.

today

2011-12-04T14:49:00.000-08:00

The sun is shining. The air is crisp. The fire is burning in the stove. Christmas is nestling deep into our home. New traditions are emerging and making peace with the old. Knitting projects and baking abound. And team Craft is just in from an afternoon hike at Carkeek. Happy.

I couldn't get a good picture, of course, but this is an eagle! She has a nest in the trees by the water, and we've been watching her occasional appearances for the last couple of years. Amazing.

sufjan

2011-11-26T16:22:00.000-08:00

The first year I listened to Sufjan Stevens' Christmas albums, I was like, "this is weird." Since then, I've fallen in love with these albums and can't wait for Sufjan to guide me into the holidays every year with a perfect mix of imagination, sacred reverence, and playful humor. Here are a few of my favorites from both ends of the spectrum.

"O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"

"Get Behind Me, Santa!"

I dance like a crazy person and become giddy with sarcastic anticipation on the "C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S" chanting part. Just listen to it. Tell me you don't get excited too in the midst of the brilliant weirdness. :)

I know what you're doing to me, boy
You move so fast like a psychopathic color TV
With your Christmas bag and your jolly face
And the reindeer stomping all over the place

Take it easy, what you got to be so absurd?
You make it sound like Christmas is a four-letter word
Its a fact of life whether you like or not
So put your hands together and give it a shot

I hope that you take it to heart, boy
It's Christmas time, ain't no clowning around
And if you think you got something to prove, boy
Santa Claus is coming to town

I don't care about family and shopping malls
Candy canes or the carolers decking the halls
I don't care about what you say, Santa Claus
You're a bad brother breaking into people's garage
Jeez!

You got it wrong
Because I'm just another regular guy
Super powers and a penchant for the Yuletime
Is it a crime to give a little once in a while?
I travel around the world trying to make people smile

I know that you take it too hard, boy
It's Christmas time, ain't no clowning around
And if you think you got something to prove, boy
Santa Claus is coming to town

C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S

Christmastime, Christmastime
Christmastime
Magic of Christmas
Christmas, Christmastime
Christmastime
Have a good time!

"Oh Holy Night"

This one makes my heart explode with joy. Hear it. Receive it. Be free. :)

race

2011-11-17T18:34:00.000-08:00

I have a vision of love. In one way or another, I think we all do. I also have strong feelings about violence and its root in hate. I'm especially disturbed by violence against women and people of color - i.e., sexism & racism.

Being that I am a woman, the source of my feelings on sexism are obvious. However, inheriting and embodying all the privilege that comes with my whiteness leaves the source of my feelings about racism a little more complex.

What I know is that, when issues of race come into a conversation, my neck gets splotchy, and my blood courses with fresh energy. This feels simultaneously dangerous and hopeful.

I'm currently at the beginning of a formal conversation about race with a group of doulas. I love the conversation and all the messiness, questions, and diverse feelings that come with it. I love the way it pushes me to grow and face my own hate, violence, and shame that surely I don't have - at least not like "really racist people."

In the midst of much work, my blood courses with desire tonight and solicits a bittersweet cocktail of grief and hope. Grief about the hate that lurks within myself & the world and hope for love and healing. I look forward to sharing with you where this journey takes me.

p.s. If you are also white & in a place that you want to think more about your own issues of racism, check this article out. If you want to go even deeper, consider spending a week or more making your own list of privileges (like in the article). It's a really hard thing to face but an enormous & courageous step toward healing within ourselves and our communities.

baby instructions

2011-11-15T17:24:00.001-08:00

Baine ran across this recently, and given the nature of my work, I thought it was pretty funny. Enjoy -

*Just click on the image to see a larger version of it.

from earth to plate

2011-11-09T10:16:00.000-08:00

I went crazy on Sunday. I indulged my fantasies of a simple, clean, from-the-earth lifestyle and found myself in the kitchen for nearly 10 hours. It was wooooonderful. I seriously went crazy as you will see by what I produced:

pumpkin pancakes
toasted pumpkin seeds
pumpkin pie
12 extra cups of pumpkin puree
arugula pesto
homemade bread
homemade pizza crust
pizza with *said* pesto & crust.

For you, a somewhat incomplete photo story of my manic kitchen day -

Step 1: Build a fire
Step 2: Harvest the bountiful arugula & the last few not-quite-ripe but not-quite-rotten tomatoes from the garden. (These will become dinner.)

Step 3: Slice & clean the heck out of 4 pie pumpkins.

Step 4: Set the seeds aside to clean & toast.
Step 5: Cook the first of 6 (or 8?) pots of pumpkin

Step 6: Mash the first batch of cooked pumpkin & squeal with delight at the bright, nourishing color.
Step 7: Make pumpkin pancakes with a side of bacon & forget to take pictures because you are in a state of sensory bliss.

Step 8: Tend & sit by the fire for a few minutes while you digest.

Step 9: Continue cooking & mashing pumpkin. Begin to make crust & filling for pumpkin pie.

Step 10: Clean some dishes to make space for more creation. Dissolve some yeast for bread & pizza crust.

Step 11: Take a long walk through the cool, autumn park with husband & dog while bread dough rises.
Step 12: Make arugula pesto. Roll out pizza dough, assemble pizza with pesto & tomatoes from the garden, & bake.
Step 13: Fill & freeze containers full of pumpkin puree.
Step 14: Eat pizza & drink harvest ale by the fire while the bread & pumpkin pie are baking.
Step 15: Eat pie with vanilla custard. Collapse. Leave the dishes for morning.
I'm addicted to this day. I certainly intend to make space for more like this.

healing

2011-11-05T12:08:00.000-07:00

I have been facing a lot of darkness these days - especially darkness inside myself. It's ironic though that this time of facing my own darkness is turning out to produce much more playfulness & joy than I normally experience. "Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30) I like to think of this as a pun. Joy does come in the morning but also the "mourning." I think the joy is coming to me in moments lately, because I'm truly allowing the weeping instead of holding back & trying to skirt around it in the ways that I often do.

To help you know what I mean, let me share a little snippet from my journal this morning. (Apparently joy comes in the literal morning as well.) :) But first, a caveat - I'm sorry to speak in such abstraction as of late. There are certain things in life that do not belong in the blogosphere. I do still want to speak though and to share some of what I'm experiencing with you. I know it may be difficult to connect with all of this in such abstraction, but hopefully you can draw on some of your own experiences of loss & joy to flesh it out. So, from my journal -

I curl up next to the fire and absorb the vibrant morning light that cascades from the crisp, fall air through the large windows of my freshly cleaned living room. The warm taste of oatmeal grounds my mind, and I sink deeply into my sits bones. My mind wanders, and, suddenly, with a mouth full of oatmeal, my face becomes soaked with some of the cleanest tears my body has shed... There is a hollow cavern of loss growing inside me. What can I do?

Maybe I can imagine the cavern filling with tears that flow out like a stream into the light. I think you are there in the light - waiting for me at the end in the places I'm willing to come out. To flow freely out of the cavernous places instead of fearfully damming them & protecting their darkness. Oooo, to flow with such ease sounds lovely. I cannot remove the cavern, but I can flow through it - toward light & toward you. My passageway will be my clean, honest tears.

I lack the words to express the freedom and joy that surface within me at the end of working through such darkness. The moments are often small, but the spontaneous metaphors of light, opening, fluidity, and streams are a gift that are truly healing my soul. I am grateful. I pray that you too will encounter streams of hope in the midst of your own very dark & lonely caverns. We all have them. And there is always light - even if we don't quite see it yet.

when it's time to dance

2011-11-02T17:05:00.000-07:00

the invitation

2011-11-01T10:35:00.000-07:00

I attended a profound and beautiful advanced doula training on Saturday called, “When a Baby Dies.” As you might imagine, the day was intense. But what I didn’t expect was that the day would be full of as much beauty and joy as pain. I’ll be forever grateful to the instructor and 12 other professionals who courageously entered this sacred space.

The instructor started the day by reading this poem to us – helping us strip away our superficial layers. Although the poem doesn’t directly speak of perinatal loss, it speaks to the raw truth that families who experience loss often sit with. It was quite beautiful. I hope you will find some bits of truth and inspiration in this poem as well…

The Invitation
(by Oriah Mountain Dreamer)

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

come closer

2011-10-30T17:52:00.002-07:00

"You make the Lord happy. Come into this. Come closer."

"There’s a door
in front of us.
Put your hand on its knob,
and let it swing open.
Take a step forward.
Back straight.
Head up.
Eyes open.
Heart loud.
Walk through this with me.
Walk through this with me."

inni

2011-10-28T18:31:00.000-07:00

tomorrow night. i cannot wait.

SIGUR RÓS - INNI from Sigur Rós on Vimeo.

listening

2011-10-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

Listening was never my forte
as a child.
In my family,
I was the talker,
stirrer,
dramatic entertainer.

When I look back now,
I think a lot of my
poor listening skills as a child
reflected more my
inability to listen to myself
than to others.

It seems that we must be able to truly
listen to and respond well to ourselves
if we are ever to listen to and respond well to others.

Thanks to adulthood, Grace,
and many generously listening souls in my life,
I am becoming a generous listener -
to those around me and
to the many voices inside myself.
I have oh-so-far to go,
but I'm getting there.
_________

I have had an intense month.

So I spent the weekend
listening to myself.

I heard a lot of things.

I heard kindness & permission to rest.
I also heard guilt, sloth, & darkness.

I heard nurturing rhythms of home -
the clanking of dishes being washed in the sink,
the bubbling of warm, fall soup,
the primitive, xylophone tones of firewood
being piled in the shed,
the clicking of knitting needles,
& the crackling of fire
that burned in the stove for 12 hours yesterday.
I heard my voice in every clank, click, and crackle
that my body evoked in the objects of my home.

As I listened,
I heard sniffling tears of grief within myself
and fearful questions about an unknown future.
I heard also kind and courageous words spoken
in the midst of it.

These voices will always be with me.
My choice is not whether to have them.
It is whether I will listen to them.
It is such gradual work,
but I'm learning
to listen.

laughter

2011-10-20T16:15:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry for my absence lately. Things have been a little intense around here, and I've found myself in survival mode more often than not. Meanwhile, I'm being reminded that there's nothing like a little playfulness & laughter when life feels overwhelming. Behold, the source of today's relief: Timon & Pumba in all their ridiculous glory.

psalm 139

2011-10-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

Another song for you -
or really for me,
but one that I want to share
with you.
This particular song is a warm blanket
that gives me comfort
& then courage to press on
in the midst of the
many things
that are busily disrupting, stirring, and
compelling me this week.

love

2011-10-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

You only know what I want you to
I know everything you don't want me to
Oh your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine
Oh you think your dreams are the same as mine
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
I always will

I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back
The less I give the more I get back
Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise
I don't have a choice but I still choose you
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
Oh I don't love you but I always will
I always will
I always will
I always will
I always will
I always will

[The Civil Wars]

this moment

2011-10-01T22:23:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

not the end

2011-09-29T17:51:00.000-07:00

sometimes,
when my soul aches
and bleeds a flow
thicker & heavier than I think
my small body can take,
i am certain that i will die.
or if i don't,
that i want to die.

these moments are real.
they are gethsemane.
they are my test.

will i succumb to the cowardice flight of death?
or will i piously pretend i don't desire it?
or
will i breathe,
look intently into the trembling, tear-soaked eyes
in the mirror,
invite & bless the flow
as though it is the holy blood of Christ
and
know that this is not the end.

it is real and
present and
infuriatingly painful.

but it is not the end.

soon,
all shall be well.
all shall be well.
all manner of thing shall be well.

introducing...

2011-09-28T19:04:00.000-07:00

Most of you already know Calm.

Today, I'm excited to announce the birth of her sister Become.

photo shoot

2011-09-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

In need of a decent head shot for my new therapy website, I re-discovered that modeling is not my spiritual gift. Behold my glory.

this moment

2011-09-17T21:08:00.001-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

spirit

2011-09-16T15:15:00.000-07:00

There are times
when I can feel myself
changing, opening, growing
by the hour.
One opening evokes another,
and at the end of the day,
my mouth gapes in awe
and gratitude.

Sometimes
the Spirit nudges me
and playfully dances with me
longer than I think
necessary
for the pious work of growth.

She knows something I don't.
She knows about laughter and play.

Mid-dance, I pause
to try to figure it out.

Seeing me,
She breaks momentarily from her
mystical fairy dance,
cuts Her eyes at me,
and smiles kindly but firmly -
like She knows what I'm thinking.

But She doesn't speak.

Instead, She grabs my hand
with playful intent
and tosses me into a twirl
that sends my skirt flying.
I catch Her joyful gaze at the end
and feel my giddy, dizzy mind
un-lodge and land
in the present moment -
at which point
we walk into the kitchen
where she continues
teaching me how to
bake bread.

I take in the warm smell of flour & yeast
as I marvel at the sturdiness of Her arms
that seemed so fairy-like only moments earlier.
Something in me knows how
sacred
this moment is.
She is teaching me
and loving me
in a way I am only beginning to understand.

to joanna -

2011-09-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

There were
squeals and hugs,
a million oh-my-gosh's,
late night runs to TCBY,
and eating competitions at Outback Steakhouse
to feed our baller, high school bodies.
There were
dreams of Paris and love
as we watched Sabrina over and over,
sarcastic yet secretly serious harmonies
of Just as I Am & It is Well
between passionate
blurts of Dixie Chicks -
our declaration of freedom and power and hope
in the midst of perpetual teenage uncertainty and fear.

We were young,
and our connection was deep.

You were there
in the pain as much as the joy -
when all I wanted was to go to college & be free,
when I occupied way too much space in our relationship,
and in the moments that are far too deep & sacred to share here.

You know these moments as well as I do.

You were with me as
my fierce defender and quiet comfort
when my heart was broken -
by the boy that you would eventually marry
and whose wedding I would stand as maid of honor.
It truly was an honor
to stand beside the woman
who had always given me such
kindness, laughter,
openness & love without condition.
What a miraculous gift we had in each other
at that time.
I don't know if I will ever fully comprehend
the grace and kindness that flowed between us then.
This was supposed to be the time
that everything fell apart.
But instead,
it became the glue
that made our friendship
unbreakable.

Now you are a gorgeous woman -
a wife & mother of four,
an artist & a teacher.
You are changed
and yet
the same.
Your squeal is just as high
and your openness just as deep
as it has always been.
You came with your sweet, monstrous baby
to see me
and take in my strange world
with the same openness and kindness
of your youth.
I have missed you, friend.
And regardless of what the future holds,
I'm forever grateful
for who you have been
& continue to be in my life.

love,
laurie

chicken

2011-09-05T12:25:00.000-07:00

the human perspective

2011-09-01T19:40:00.000-07:00

Now that you've seen the canine perspective of our road-trip, here's the human viewpoint. In short, it was lovely.

The Oregon Coast

We drove from 85 degrees and sunny directly into a cold (48 degrees), rocky, misty bay. It was horrible. I was on the brink of tears. But trying to make the most of it, I made s'mores anyway. :)

It was gorgeous in it's own freezing, melancholy, cliffy sort of way. But that's NOT why I went on vacation to OR in August. Did I mention is was freezing, and the sun was only out for about 20 minutes the next morning.

So we packed up our gear, drove out of the bay, and chased the sun. And guess where we landed!

Absolutely heaven. I wanted to spend the whole vacation here. But alas, we were committed to several other adventures on our trip. So we packed up our gear again and found this crew along the way en route to Portland.

Portland

I didn't take many pictures in Portland, but it was awesome. I didn't think I liked Portland very much actually, but I loved the couple of days that we spent there. Our hipster hotel was awesome. We also did lots of vintage shopping and partaking of yummy, handmade ice cream.

Backpacking Blodgett Canyon in Montana's Bitteroot Valley

I took a lot of pictures of this part of our trip. In addition to the beauty, we entered deep, heart-wrenching nostalgia as we re-entered Montana and had grueling conversations about our ambivalence about possibly moving back some day. Oh, Montana. You uprooted my heart, planted it deep in your rich, hard soil, and continue to call it my home. I know you are my birth place, and for that, I will always love you. But I don't know yet if you are my home.

Our mountain stream by our campsite. Absolute solitude.

Butterflies were practically swarming us both days. Pure magic.

Missoula

Last but not least, we landed in Missoula and spent most our time with the beloved Kurz clan (the family I nannied for when we lived in MT).

Homemade doughnuts!

Parting is such sweet sorrow. We had such a lovely trip. And we're addicted to the loveliness. We're already starting to plan the next one.

our bodies

2011-08-30T22:06:00.000-07:00

Be forewarned. This first video is intense. It takes courage and advanced self-soothing skills to watch, listen, and let it in. In the words of my friend Heather, "I dare you not to permit the welling of soaked droplets to plummet down your sweet face during this talk. I dare you."

Suddenly, my body

And with Eve's heavy, salty, wonderful depth and authenticity, I enthusiastically give you this huge chunk of hope for the world. It's dramatic. But so am I. And so is the importance of the situation. We are on the brink of a major revolution. And I'm bursting with excitement and awe to be a part of it.

Mr. Pal's Northwest Road Trip

2011-08-29T17:25:00.000-07:00

There once was a dog named Mr. Pal. His friends call him Pal-dog, P-dog, P-diggity, or just Pal. Pal was a good dog. He was very friendly. He had the fluffiest tail of any dog in his time, and he wagged it a lot. He also smiled enormously when petted, danced with, sung to, or spoken to in a high-pitched baby voice.
Mr. Pal only had 1 suit, which worked for both formal and informal occasions. Pal wore his suit very proudly every day. He was also very gracious with others and liked to share his suit by leaving huge chunks of it on everything he touched.

Mr. Pal really liked adventures and decided one day to go on a very long road trip with his parents. Since riding in cars usually sent him into a hyper-ventilating panic, P-dog normally preferred to stay home during such adventures. But Pal knew that their would be lots of fun things for dogs on this trip, so he decided to face his fears and go with his 2 crazy parents.

After lots of time on the road, he even got to rest for a couple of days in a fancy, hipster hotel in Portland.
But the thing Pal most looked forward to on the trip was backpacking. Even though he likes to keep things clean & it makes his suit very dirty, Pal-dog has always loved backpacking and all things about being in the woods.

But one day on Pal's northwest road trip, he went to a new place where he'd never been before. Pal went to a warm, sandy beach. The first thing he did at the beach was go with his mom & dad to check out the water. Pal was very curious about the waves. But they also scared him a little.

In the end, Pal decided that waves were better for moms & dads than for dogs.

One thing Pal did like about the beach was the sand. He especially liked digging in the sand. Being a snow dog, Pal seemed to have the sand a little confused with snow though. He knew that when the snow moved, it meant there was a creature or bug of sorts to be hunted below the surface. Mr. Pal didn't quite understand that sand can move for different reasons. But he liked to dig it all the same.

At the end of the day, Mr. Pal's favorite part of the beach was a good, long belly rub in the sun and snuggling at night in the great outdoors with mom and dad.

Whether he was on the beach, in the city, or in the woods, this was really his favorite part of the whole trip and something he'll never forget. Pal was really glad he faced his fears and got to do so many fun things.

Vacation

2011-08-21T19:35:00.000-07:00

Warm oregon beaches,
watermelon,
campfire,
s'mores for breakfast,
urban fix at hipster hotel,
thrift shopping,
& sushi.
Soon to be knee deep for
a week in Montana.
Ahhh, vacation.

I might write again soon,
but if all goes well,
it will be later.

my soul doth magnify the woods

2011-08-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

Thursday night: Another calm baby is born
Friday: Rest and recover from doula-ing
Saturday: Realize that I'm off-call and begin planning a hike
Sunday: Hit the woods

Local wildlife - locked into Pal

More local wildlife...

nostalgia

2011-08-10T21:40:00.000-07:00

singapore

2011-08-09T17:01:00.000-07:00

I discovered this poem just out of high school. I immediately fell in love with it, and it still pricks my heart when I read it.

Singapore
by Mary Oliver

In Singapore, in the airport,
A darkness was ripped from my eyes.
In the women’s restroom, one compartment stood open.
A woman knelt there, washing something
in the white bowl.

Disgust argued in my stomach
and I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.

A poem should always have birds in it.
Kingfishers, say, with their bold eyes and gaudy wings.
Rivers are pleasant, and of course trees.
A waterfall, or if that’s not possible, a fountain
rising and falling.
A person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.

When the woman turned I could not answer her face.
Her beauty and her embarrassment struggled together, and
neither could win.
She smiled and I smiled. What kind of nonsense is this?
Everybody needs a job.

Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.
But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor,
which is dull enough.
She is washing the tops of the airport ashtrays, as big as
hubcaps, with a blue rag.
Her small hands turn the metal, scrubbing and rinsing.
She does not work slowly, nor quickly, like a river.
Her dark hair is like the wing of a bird.

I don’t doubt for a moment that she loves her life.
And I want to rise up from the crust and the slop
and fly down to the river.
This probably won’t happen.
But maybe it will.
If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it?

Of course, it isn’t.
Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only
the light that can shine out of a life. I mean
the way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth,
The way her smile was only for my sake; I mean
the way this poem is filled with trees, and birds.

integration

2011-08-08T12:43:00.000-07:00

“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”
~Walt Whitman

“For sin is just this, what [a person] cannot by its very nature do with [his/her] whole being; it is possible to silence the conflict in the soul, but it is not possible to uproot it.” ~Martin Buber

brilliant

2011-08-07T10:35:00.000-07:00

this moment

2011-08-06T18:59:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

versions of crazy

2011-08-05T22:35:00.000-07:00

Today is not Saturday,
but it feels like it.
Between the lack of structure
in my chosen vocation
and yet another new layer of attempted integration
within my spiritual-mental-emotional self,
time swirls around me
like a flurry of dandelion spores.

All I really know to do
is notice them
and maybe even appreciate their beauty and
the way they diffuse and reflect the sun’s yellow light.
But I feel a little like Luna Lovegood if I do that too long.

So every now and then,

I have to blow the spores out of my face
so I can focus on the tasks of the day.
But that makes me feel a bit too much
like Gimli, trying to blow away the Dead Men of Dunharrow.
Oh, to find balance & discipline within oneself.
The awkward dance continues.

(not graphic) home-birth

2011-08-03T20:03:00.000-07:00

I normally reserve birth talk, pics, and videos for my doula blog, but... This is such a lovely birth video.

It's really hard to capture the gentle, quiet energy that exists at most home-births that I attend, but I feel like this video captures it so well. I'm in awe of the gentleness, calmness, & strength that women have during birth when they're well supported. It's absolutely one of the most gorgeous things I've ever witnessed.

For those of you who aren't interested in the graphic details of birth, no worries. This is NOT a graphic birth video. So you can enter with ease. :)

Camp Bevell: Hiking

2011-08-01T11:31:00.000-07:00

It's kind of a spectacle, but I love that we are many. I'm definitely a pack animal.

Courage

Much more courage

The Dismount (speaking of spectacles)

Camp Bevell: Swimming

2011-08-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

"Golfer's Tan" - Yikes.
12 Adults & 9 Kids… We took over the pool.
“Can the little boys play too?!” (the answer was 'no' at first) :(

Camp Bevell: The Cabin

2011-08-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

Instead of our usual Christmas gathering, my family and I decided to spend a few days at a cabin in east TN this summer. Between a huge, amazing cabin, air hockey tournaments, hiking, swimming, and water balloon fights, it was brilliant. We didn't get any pictures of the water balloon fight, because none of us wanted to miss out on the action. It took us about 10 minutes to go through 700 balloons. And that was with certain parameters we had set up to 'pace ourselves.'

(Stay tuned for Camp Bevell: Swimming & Hiking.)

this moment

2011-07-30T10:16:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

the voices in my head

2011-07-28T17:22:00.000-07:00

The cycle continued today. First, I emerged from bed rather slowly this morning after a strange mix of pleasant dreams and heart-racing nightmares. I opened my laptop and found a good balance between work and play.

Then, about an hour or so later, lethargy set in.

My body started to feel restless - needing to move around, to eat, to bathe, to clean the dishes, to play in the sunshine... But I found myself incapable of moving. My laptop quickly went from a playfully productive space to a 500-lb, cancer-causing brick that stood between me and breakfast. My brain began to spin and bounce from one space to another. Would you like to meet a few of my many selves? It goes a little something like this...

Dominant Laurie: "Ok, just get up. Seriously. Get over it. Go eat something and do something with yourself. This is pathetic"

Victim Laurie: "What? Dude, you've had such an intense week. Give yourself a freaking break!

Rationalizing Laurie: "Totally. Victim Laurie is right. Just hang out with the laptop as long as you want. You need the break. Don't worry about the restlessness. It will pass. Just immerse yourself in your emails and work. You can even get some creative juices flowing by working on your new therapy website. (Rationalizing Laurie talks a lot.)

Peacemaker Laurie (She can't stand the conflict): "Ok. Let's make a deal. Just go get some food. You don't have to worry about anything else right now. Just eat. It's ok if you don't want to deal with the horribly dirty kitchen right now or cook anything healthy. Just get some cereal, and we'll go from there. We'll do this together."

So I got some cereal and felt a little bit better. But not great. Now what?

I think there was one last pathetic effort at distraction on the 500-lb laptop. But rationalizing Laurie was growing weak.

Somehow, I made it to the shower. I felt better then. But still not great.

Paralyzed now by the choice of how to clothe myself for the day, I lay on my bed, staring into space. No longer anxious, but a little numb now. Suddenly, an idea... Music!

Peacemaker Laurie: "I'll just give it a try. Nothing too depressing but nothing too peppy either. I'm not in the mood to be patronized."

Half-way through the first song, I became a new person. Before I knew it, the voices on Pandora gave me the strength to get dressed, eat lunch, dance with myself in the mirror, and even play in my garden a bit. I knew I'd fully emerged when this very overplayed but still wonderful song came on. It makes my heart smile & dance...

Self-care is interesting like that. Today, I needed to hear What a Wonderful World. Other days, I need something more like Clean Getaway or Idioteque or (for my southern Baptist self!) Trinity. And of course, I can be in practically any self-state to enjoy and benefit from Sigur Ros & Jonsi.

It really just depends on which of my many selves is on the forefront that day. Self care is about listening to all those voices and responding to what they might be needing. It's kind of exhausting sometimes, because the voices are many and the years of ignoring them have left me with severe atrophy. Thankfully, peacemaker Laurie is working her butt off and extending kindness all over the place to each voice. Hopefully, she'll keep growing, facing herself, and opening herself to the honest care & feedback she needs from those around her. For now, she's oh so pleased that today's struggle had a happy ending.

this moment

2011-07-23T17:57:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

what light

2011-07-22T16:03:00.000-07:00

What Light

If you feel like singing a song
And you want other people to sing along
Just sing what you feel
Don't let anyone say it's wrong

And if you're trying to paint a picture
But you're not sure which colors belong
Just paint what you see
Don't let anyone say it's wrong

And if you're strung out like a kite
Or stung awake in the night
It's alright to be frightened

When there's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
Inside of you

If you think you might need somebody
To pick you up when you drag
Don't loose sight of yourself
Don't let anyone change your bag

And if the whole world's singing your songs
And all of your paintings have been hung
Just remember what was yours is everyone's from now on

And that's not wrong or right
But you can struggle with it all you like
You'll only get uptight

Because there's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
There's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
There's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
There's a light (what light)
There's a light (one light)
There's a light (white light)
Inside of you

happy

2011-07-10T20:08:00.001-07:00

After 15 miles of backpacking in 2 days, I now need foot, ankle, shoulder, & hip transplants. But even though this weekend has made me painfully aware of the physical deterioration that comes with age - oh my gosh, this was such a brilliant trip. I hope you enjoy the photo story.

"Summit"/ Campsite at lake

Drinking tea, meditating, & soaking everything up the next morning (this morning, actually) before we hiked out... Leaving made me want to cry - and not just because of the physical pain my body was in.

play

2011-07-08T14:23:00.000-07:00

I'm off to the woods
for the weekend
with my 2 favorite creatures:
Baine & Pal.

Then we're off to the hellishly hot
but delightfully sunny south
to visit & play with the fam.

I'll likely keep you posted
in snipits
along the way.
But if I'm MIA,
it's because
I intend to mostly play
each night & day.
(and write cheesy elementary school rhymes.)

this moment

2011-07-02T22:28:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

a study in red

2011-07-01T18:09:00.000-07:00

Fiiiiiiiiiiinally.
Oh my gosh,
I thought I was going to die this year.
I can hardly survive
a normal Seattle spring -
much less one of the city's
darkest,
wettest,
coldest
springs on record.
I swear a large piece of my soul dies every year in this city.

But today...

Ohhhhh, lovely, beautiful, there-is-hope-for-the-world-yet today.
Today, the sun is shining;
clouds are practically non-existent;
and it's warm.
Did you hear that?
WARM!!! (yes, 3 exclamation points)
Verging on the brink of insanity,
I was just contemplating yesterday the idea of
burning
every sweater and boot that I own.
If nothing else, maybe the fire would keep me warm
in the sun's indeterminate absence.

But alas, today it is warm.

Ok, I know many of you
are trying to survive your 2nd month of heat stroke,
because you live in places that are meant
to sustain human life
for more than 2-3 months/year.

I realize you may not understand
exactly why I
spontaneously and unconsciously
skipped
like a 6-yr-old
down my hallway today,
did more push-ups, sit-ups, and lunges
(in my yard)
than I ever thought was possible,
and took pictures of the new, bright red things in my life.

But that's ok.
I just want you to know how happy I am today,
because I'm bursting.

So finally... A Study in Red

From our Garden...

My New Kicks

Our New Ride

Next year, I will go to a warm beach for at least 2 weeks during the winter. Lesson learned.

gorgeous

2011-06-30T23:24:00.000-07:00

one day...

a sermon-ette

2011-06-26T16:49:00.000-07:00

"The good and the pleasant are two different things. They motivate a person to pursue two different goals. The one who embraces the good meets with auspiciousness. The one who chooses the pleasant is lost." (Katha Upanishad 1.2.1)

To be human is to possess the capacity to consciously choose and not act merely from instinct. It takes much practice to simply differentiate the two - much less freely choose one versus the other. Most of us don't even know we're in instinct/survival-mode much of the time.

When we choose what is good rather than what is pleasant, our reward is freedom, fullness, & meaning. We finally get a taste of life beyond mere survival. It is in our freedom to choose that we are unique from other creatures and from here that we develop compassion & servitude toward the world around us.

this moment

2011-06-25T18:19:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

hunger pangs

2011-06-24T10:16:00.000-07:00

I hunger for Cameroon
like a newborn at the breast.
I need her rich sustenance,
intimate rawness, & quiet warmth.
I long for her earthy eyes
to comfort and reassure me
as I look up during a feed.

At such a far distance,
I scramble to satisfy myself
with the crumbs of memory and fantasy,
watching documentary after documentary about Africa,
YouTube clips, blogs, articles,
photo albums and journals from previous trips -
just to get a taste of what my body longs for.

The taste draws out the tinge of hunger
to a bellowing roar in my belly.
I do not know how long I can wait
before satisfying this pang.

gods of morning paralysis

2011-06-22T09:47:00.001-07:00

His alarm begins to beep.
She checks the time. 8am.
He turns it off, and she rolls over to absorb her last 15 minutes of sleep.

Her alarm begins... tic, tic, tic, riiiinnnnnnggg.
Ugh. She hates that freaking sound.
Snooze. 10 more minutes...
tic, tic, tic, riiiiiinnnnnnggg.

Ok, I can do this, she tells herself.

She peeks at his unconscious face, inches from hers.
Words feel like apple-sized air bubbles in her mouth.
"Hey. We need to leave in like 5 minutes."

He grumbles incoherently,
"I don jcouog iuoi anonoij."

"Huh?"

With doubt, "I don't think I can do it..." Then with certainty, "I can't do it."

"Noooooo! Really?!"

"Yep. I can't do it."

The gods of morning paralysis are strong.
They are rarely defeated.
They once convinced her that her heart would stop beating
and she would instantly die if she sat up to turn off her alarm.
Sometimes they're less dramatic
and simply replace morning yoga
with the mere thought of 10 more minutes of sleep.
It's a never-ending battle.

this moment

2011-06-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

this moment will have to wait 'til next week. I'm currently in sleep deprivation mode in between births of 2 clients. I slept 13 hours today and am about to go to bed for the night, but I'll join another client any minute now. :) Will write more soon...

if trusted

2011-06-15T21:28:00.000-07:00

our grief, if trusted
is sturdy.
so sink your weight into
it.
it will carry you
home.

(by Jackie Moulten, student at my alma mater)

this (belated) moment

2011-06-12T11:54:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

mother of babes

2011-06-08T18:56:00.000-07:00

From Tara Thayer of public::bookstore...

i began as the mother of babes.

and i mean that, for i was born then, too.
all of the me that had begun,
the wonderings and wanderings of my first three decades,
melted away in the faces of those new babies
and i was born anew.

i spent the next decade tending.
and tending, i did well. it was my thing, apparently.

i grew into it, and i loved every minute.
well,
you know that to be a gentle lie.
there were quite a few minutes of awful. of anguish, even.
and so much comedy, uncertainty, dishevelment.
you know.

but now...
some of my babes are almost grown.
do not kid yourself about how quickly that happens.
do not kid yourself and do not miss a second wishing those
wonderfully intense, delicious early years away.

for it happens even as you are watching them.
they grow.

and as much as you need to lose yourself to care for those newborn babes, those littles-
when they have grown to your size almost-when their feet may be as big!-
it is then that you need to find yourself again.
you need to grow.

for then, as they come upon ten; at twelve maybe...fourteen certainly;
then you must find yourself in order to know how to guide them. you must be the you
that you want to be,
so that the you they are growing up against and alongside, is the you that you want them to know.

for here's the thing:

in the end,
what you want for them most of all is to leave you.
to leave your house to become who they will be.
and when they are gone
who do you want to be left with?

my wish is that my own answer
is the me that was born out of mothering them.
and the man that's loved me all along the way.

this moment

2011-06-04T18:05:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

ode to tea

2011-06-01T12:47:00.000-07:00

open arms

2011-05-31T20:51:00.000-07:00

I've recently started volunteering for an amazing organization called Open Arms Perinatal Services. Here's a glimpse into the work of the brilliant women in leadership of this organization. I feel blessed to be in their presence.

Seattle Channel Video can be played in Flash Player 9 and up

this moment

2011-05-28T08:32:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

this moment

2011-05-21T20:10:00.000-07:00

Due to a continued camera issue (misplaced battery charger), this week's moment actually occurred a couple of weeks ago. Still love this moment though...

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

crafty conversations

2011-05-14T15:49:00.000-07:00

Baine and I were eating Saturday morning pancakes & listening to the "Bob Marley" station on Pandora. A new song came on, and we both start dancing. Then this conversation unfolded...

B(aine): Who is this?
L(aurie): Um, I don't know. I'm pretty sure it's 1 of the Marley brothers, but I'm not sure which one.
B: [Walks over to the TV to see who it is]
L: Yeah. Damien Marley. I think he's my favorite of the brothers. Actually, I like Ziggy too. But he's more...
B: [closes his eyes and does a really chill, hippied-out dance]
L: Haha. Yeah. He's chill. I like them for different reasons.
B: Isn't he married to...
L: No. Not Lauryn (Hill). She and Ziggy did music together, but she's married to another brother. I don't know which one.
B: No, I know. But Ziggy's married to... uh, what's the girl from the Cosby show?
L: Lisa Bonet?
B: Yeah. She used to be married to Lenny Kravitz, I think. But then she married Ziggy.
L: Wow. She just jumped from 1 hot black dude with dreads to another! Lauryn, Lisa, Ziggy, Damien... That's an awesome group.
B: Yeah, how do you get in with that crowd?
L: Play music, grow dreads, and be awesome... Actually, I don't know if it would be awesome. I bet the brothers are jerks. Well, maybe they're cool and chill, but I bet they're jerks about women.
B: Yeah, that's true. Well, I don't know. Lauryn...
L: Yeah, that's what I was just thinking. She doesn't take any crap.
B: Exactly. But I bet Lisa Bonet does.
L: Probably.
B: Then again, I think that's part of [chauvinism]. You're either really passive or really dominant. [Either way, you infantalize/demean the woman.]
L: Yeah. That's true... Ok. Listen to us. What the heck are we doing? We're analyzing the psychology of Lauryn Hill, Lisa Bonet, & the Marley brothers. Who does that?!
B: 2 people with graduate degrees in psychology.
L: Wow. We're ridiculous.
B: These are some really good blueberry pancakes.

p.s. According to Wikipedia, Lisa's married to Jason Momoa - not a Marley, but she was married to Lenny Kravitz for a few years.

p.p.s. Due to camera malfunction, I'm skipping this week's "this moment."

out of the ruts (hippie wisdom)

2011-05-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

"Once people begin to explore simplicity as it speaks to their own concerns, they often see how that concern connects to many other issues. Therein lies one of the simplicity movement's great strengths and possibilities. Those wanting to change their relationship with time and/or money begin to see how that change could be expressed in concern for environmental justice. Those passionate about ecological degradation may for the first time realize that minorities are most often the first affected by such degradation. And those in the process of modifying their own daily choices might discover the need to work for political change as well." (-Michael Schut)

"I have described two basic difficulties we human beings have with space. In the first, we are addicted to filling up every kind of space we encounter. We are addicted to fulfillment, to eradication of all emptiness. In the second difficulty, we fear what spaciousness will reveal to us. We would rather have the anesthetized serenity of dullness than the liberating dis-ease of truth. Together, our addiction to fulfillment and our flight from truth weave a harsh, desperate barrier against participation in love." (-Gerald May)

My mind reels with self-examination. The clutter is revealed and my mind infinitely clearer as I read these words. It is amazing how such simple, few words can pull one out of the isolating ruts & trenches of habit and fear.

this moment

2011-05-07T16:29:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

The Office Stanley push ups

2011-05-04T00:58:00.000-07:00

In a sad but honorable effort to become much stronger than I currently am, I started doing push-ups at the end of each yoga class I attend. After an absurdly difficult struggle to make 4 push-ups today, I dropped to the ground and started laughing as I recalled the following. (Sorry about the lame video quality. I couldn't find a better version of it.)

I'm about a third of Stanley's weight. No excuse. Must get ripped.

this moment

2011-04-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

war dance

2011-04-26T14:56:00.000-07:00

Africa will always be apart of me. I don't know how things will play out in the future, but I long to be in Cameroon these days. For now, I'll continue to be compelled and drawn back to my African home by things like War Dance. And as hard as it is some days, it also snaps me out of the monotony & naivete of my middle-class, white privileged existence.

If you're interested in the full documentary, it's available on Netflix's Watch Instantly. Or you might be able to rent it as well from your local movie store.

buddha & the mad elephant

2011-04-22T15:17:00.001-07:00

[Due to technical difficulties with my computer, I was unable to post the following entry on the day it was intended - yesterday. Better late than never, I suppose. In lieu of this post, I'll resume 'This Moment' next week.]

With all of its hope for resurrection and life, Easter is awesome. But Good Friday kind of sucks. Death sucks, and facing the literal and metaphorical deaths throughout our lives is incredibly painful and challenging. However, I don't think resurrection has much meaning if we don't actually consider and enter death - including the one that happened on Good Friday.

Most of us know the story of Jesus' death and resurrection. Today, I want to share another story that has challenged and encouraged me in different ways to face death in my own life...

Toward the end of his life the Buddha was aging and weary. His influence over the Sangha was waning accordingly. The monk Devadatta, his cousin, watched the Buddha’s aging carefully, and decided to take over the control of the Order as his successor. Devadatta had the courage not to pursue his aim solely by intrigue, but to proclaim it openly.

Once, when the Buddha was preaching before a large congregation, Devadatta got up and said to the Buddha: "Lord, you are now old, worn out, an aged man, you have lived your allotted span and are at the end of your existence. Lord, may you be content to live in this world henceforth unburdened. Hand over the Order to me— I will lead the Sangha!" The Buddha declined, but Devadatta repeated his plea three times. This stirred the Buddha to a rebuke: "I would not even hand over the Order to Shariputra and Maudgalyayana, still less to you, Devadatta!" By his sharp reaction, the Buddha had made Devadatta his enemy.

Devadatta, who was humiliated in public, planned a series of intrigues to kill the Buddha. The third attempt on the Buddha’s life took place within the city of Rajagraha. Devadatta bribed with promises certain mahouts to let the working elephant Nalagiri loose against the Buddha.
The mighty bull-elephant, which had already killed one person, stormed through the streets on the exact path along which the Buddha was coming on his alms-round. Throwing away a person with his trunk, the brute elephant rushed at the yellow-robed Buddha who, unafraid, radiated loving-kindness towards him. Then came the miracle! Suddenly the raging elephant became calm and peaceful, and knelt before the Buddha, who lifted his right hand and patted the animal's forehead. This is the well-known story of the Buddha's subjugation of a mad elephant in Rajagraha.

In moments where I feel completely full of fear and rage toward my perceived enemies, this image repeatedly calms me. Buddha sits calmly in his smallness - "unafraid, radiating loving-kindness" toward the raging elephant. He pats the elephant's forehead. What a powerful moment.

paint

2011-04-19T15:35:00.000-07:00

Spring has called forth projects & inspired new expressions of playful creativity. As the sun shines more and more each day, I'm finding breaks from the wonderful birth world in paint. I'm eager to show you the before & after pics once I'm done, but here's a sneak peek...

this moment

2011-04-16T09:03:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

dreaming

2011-04-12T20:16:00.000-07:00

My hands move
the delicate thread of wool
between my fingers
in steady, fluid motion –
allowing space
for my mind
to drift & be.
With each round of stitches,
I let go.

I dream.

My mind opens,
expands,
fills
with the airy lightness
of newfound hope.

I float

in the space,
completely free
from concern
or the compulsion of control.
Such worries are just not relevant anymore.

this moment

2011-04-09T19:04:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

this moment

2011-04-02T23:10:00.000-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

waiting

2011-03-28T20:24:00.000-07:00

Seattle's 10-Day Forecast

Monday, Mar 28
Rain
44°
70% chance of rain

Tuesday, Mar 29
Showers
47°
70% chance of rain

Wednesday, Mar 30
Rain
48°
70% chance of rain

Thursday, Mar 31
Showers
46°
40% chance of rain

Friday, Apr 1
Mostly Cloudy
42°
20% chance of rain

Saturday, Apr 2
Showers
41°
40% chance of rain

Sunday, Apr 3
Showers
43°
40% chance of rain

Monday, Apr 4
Showers
45°
60% chance of rain

Tuesday, Apr 5
Showers
42°
60% chance of rain

Wednesday, Apr 6
Showers
42°
60% chance of rain

I've been through this before. Every year actually. Spring begins its tease, and I become aware of just how much darkness I've been living under for many long months. The problem is that spring is only a tease in the beginning - just enough to make me feel a little more crazy than usual. As you can see from the forecast, after teasing me with all it's glory last week, the sun will not reveal itself again anytime soon.

In response to the ecstatic energy the sun sent surging through my brain last week, I found myself (again) purchasing several summer dresses. When I arrived at the check-out counter to purchase my gorgeous, new sundresses, the cashier said, "OO-ooo (high-low tone), are you going somewhere on vacation?" Translation: "You obviously won't be wearing these in this city for at least 3 more months if not 4. So you're clearly either going on vacation or completely delusional."

I knew this already. I didn't need her to rub it in. I wanted to punch her. Instead, I just said "no" and re-entered my fantasy/delusion of sunshine & warm weather. This fantasy will carry me through this agonizing waiting period. So will the daffodils and sprouting tulips in my yard. Patience, Laurie Elaine. Patience.

4th time's a charm

2011-03-27T11:36:00.000-07:00

I've now knitted 4 sweaters for myself. The first one was awesome but too short & too big. The second one is cool but has some quirks and kinks that kind of drive me crazy. With a New Years' resolution to knit more for Baine and me, I finished the third one in January and love it. But the colors make me look sea sick - an issue I should have taken more seriously when choosing the colors in the first place.

A lot goes into designing and knitting a sweater. There are so many details, and it's so much work and such a committment with knitting - which is what makes the last sweater that I finished for myself a week ago that much sweeter. It's the exact size, shape, color, style, weight, design, everything that I was hoping for. I'll show you the full progression of pics - just because they're ridiculous.

This one is the most accurate reflection of the color. It's a very bright, rich yellow with an orangey tone. Looooove this color.

I'm already onto several more projects and have way too many sweater ideas. I know it's spring and all, but let's be honest - It's freaking freezing at least at night even in the summer in Seattle. As much as I hate being cold, at least I have an excuse to knit sweaters year-round.

this moment

2011-03-26T19:18:00.001-07:00

[this moment is a Saturday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

whales & dolphins

2011-03-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

Growth makes me anxious. So do facing my fears & trying new things. But I faced a serious fear recently and encountered a new depth within myself that resulted in a state of ecstacy. It's a good thing I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie & that I like taking risks. Otherwise, I might never face my fears.

The night after having faced this particular fear, my dreams told the story of what I had done. I am both amused and inspired by this unconscious of mine...

First, my body sailed swiftly & effortlessly on the surface of the water with whales & dolphins. Yep. Whales and dolphins. Rushes of energy scared me as much as excited and carried me into a state of wonder.

The scene evolved in that loose, mysterious way that dreams do, and I found the same fear & wonder as I helped Jonsi (a friend apparently) prepare for a show. We spent the first moments just hanging out with a few others on couches backstage. Then I followed his lead and starting throwing balls of yarn through the rafters on the set to represent something playful and profound - as everything in Jonsi's world seems to be. We were surrounded by colorful lights, honesty, imagination, and rainbow vests. Yes, rainbow vests - like mine.

In the middle of this scene, someone asked Jonsi to join the other musicians to practice his song "Festival." Knowing the emotional depth within himself that the song would require, Jonsi hesitated, rubbed the palm of his hand against his brow, and said, "I don't know if I can do that one tonight. I don't know if I have it in me. I will cry." Then without another word, he calmly walked to the center of the stage in the empty auditorium and sang with every ounce of grace and courage in his being. We all stood in silence and awe. And then I woke.

After laughing at the drug-like nature of my dreams, I realized that I often rub the palm of my hand against my brow. I often hesitate. I often face my fears. And it usually makes me cry. It also helps me see rainbows & colorful lights and sends me sailing with whales and dolphins.

this moment

2011-03-18T23:02:00.001-07:00

[this moment is a Friday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

p.s. Because of a very full Friday schedule, starting next week, this moment will become a Saturday ritual instead of Friday.

sarcastic gratitude?

2011-03-15T13:09:00.000-07:00

Laurie: So I think I've decided I'm going to start "practicing gratitude."

Baine: Ok... What does that mean?

Laurie: Well, I watched this video and have read some stuff, and there are several things that classify as "practicing gratitude." Like writing down 3 things every day that you're grateful for.

Baine: Ok. I know about that.

Laurie: Supposedly, I'll be 25% happier if I write down 3 things that I'm grateful for every day. But I'm really skeptical about the whole thing. And it feels really annoying & artificial to "count my blessings." So I'll probably just try to write 2 every day. Then maybe I'll be like 18% percent happier instead of 25. I'd be good with 18.

Baine: Maybe on the 1st day, you can write that you're grateful that 1) you only have to write 2 things, and 2) you're going to be 18% happier after doing this.

Laurie: Ha. Ha. That's perfect! I'm totally going to do that.

Baine: Yeah, but I don't think it works if you're cynical or sarcastic about your gratitude.

Laurie: What? That's lame. We'll see.

p.s. Here's the gratitude video if you're interested.

this moment

2011-03-11T22:08:00.000-08:00

[this moment is a Friday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple
moment that I want to remember from the week.]

we already have everything

2011-03-10T19:24:00.001-08:00

We already have everything we need. There is no need for self-improvement. All these trips that we lay on ourselves - the heavy-duty fearing that we're bad and hoping that we're good, the identities that we so dearly cling to, the rage, the jealousy, and addictions of all kinds - never touch our basic wealth. They are like clouds that temporarily block the sun. But all the time our warmth and brilliance are right here. This is who we really are. We are one blink of an eye away from being fully awake." (-Pema Chodron)

empathic pushing?

2011-03-06T11:50:00.001-08:00

As a doula, I often feel like I go through my own mini version of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum alongside my clients. There’s the anticipation, excitement, and hours of preparation for the impending birth during pregnancy. And then there’s the actual process of labor in which I work to remain physically and emotionally engaged with the laboring mother from beginning to end. And finally there’s the interesting interplay of elated pleasure and sheer exhaustion that takes place at the beginning of the postpartum period.

It’s during the actual process of labor and delivery where I feel like I most experience a mini version of what the birthing mother is going through. The energy of labor is so strong, and as a doula, I’m there with the mother – breathing, opening, letting go through every contraction. I even feel this energy of labor in my own body – especially when I’m physically connected to the laboring mother. I enjoy feeling this energy, because it helps me to stay attuned to and empathic toward the mother’s needs.

I attended a birth recently where I felt this type of connection and attunement with the mother during her labor. And much to my surprise in the moment, my body apparently kept that level of connection when the mother entered the pushing phase.
Minutes after the midwife described to the mother that the pushing sensation should feel a lot like pooping, I felt my body involuntarily try to “push” as I supported the mother during her pushes! Don’t worry. I was able to stop my own pushing quickly enough to prevent any results. But I was amazed yet again at how unconsciously engaged my body became with the mother during her labor. I love this intense level of engagement.

It’s such a gift to be invited into such an open, sacred space in women’s lives, and I’m newly reminded of that honor every time I attend a birth. I love my work and am a bit in awe that I get paid to do something that I love so much. I love the courage and strength that women inevitably discover within themselves through this process. I love the way my work engages my whole mind and body. And I love the raw glow on each woman’s face when her baby is finally born after so much work and preparation. I’m truly blessed to be able to do this work and look forward to continuing the deep physical and mental engagement that this work requires.

this (belated) moment

2011-03-05T17:13:00.000-08:00

[this moment is a Friday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple
moment that I want to remember from the week.]

this moment

2011-02-25T22:26:00.000-08:00

[this moment is a Friday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]

opening meditation

2011-02-24T10:14:00.000-08:00

I've recently had the privilege of co-facilitating a group to support women who have experienced emotional birth trauma. I have only helped facilitate a couple of meetings so far, and it has been such a powerful experience and an honor to sit with women as they courageously enter very difficult places within themselves.

From my past and present experience of doing this kind of work, I have come to learn that being with - wholly being with - people as they dig deeply into the darker places within themselves requires me to dig deeply into my own dark places. This is a liberating process, because the compassionate journey into that darkness inevitably brings light into and transforms those places.

It is also a challenging process, because it requires me to face some of my deepest fears about who I am. And when fear is present, it is easy to close the door to myself and others. Openness, curiosity, and compassion almost seem counter-intuitive in those moments. But they are in fact the keys to facing and being liberated from my fears.

Last night, before I entered the group, I took a few moments alone to quiet myself, write, and ask for openness and compassion. And I believe these moments made all the difference, because I felt completely renewed and present by the end.

"Opening Meditation"

Opening... mindfully.
Floating... restfully.
Relaxing... gently
each muscle
in my weary body.

From forehead to jaw
to aching belly
to worn thighs
and cold toes.
I breathe
slowly
as I consider each part.

Surrendering
with each breath
to the wisdom of Peace.
Accepting
kindly
the truth of my being.

Resting

Opening

Listening

compassionately
to myself
and the effortful world around me.

I am here.

this moment

2011-02-18T10:31:00.000-08:00

[this moment is a Friday ritual where I post a single photo, capturing a simple moment that I want to remember from the week.]