nothing to say

I haven’t written much lately.

That’s not exactly true. I scribble words in my journal, using either a super sharp poke your eye out pencil or a Uniball .5 micro blue pen. But my journals accept words I don’t publish. Just rambling thoughts, musings, frustrations, hopes, desires, annoyances, dreams, fears, etc.

Here in “the Corner,” I try for deeper thoughts. I try to Create something that might make my readers, followers, friends or people who just stumble upon my writing … Think. I seek to offer a message that might have value to someone. Might resonate or inspire.

Lately, I haven’t felt very inspirational. I haven’t had any lightning bolt ideas that I felt were share-worthy. I’ve been a bit overwhelmed in my own personal life. I’ve gone through some ups and downs. Losses. Changes. Difficult moments. Oh there have been joys and exciting happenings too — a color-coded calendar of pretty cool stuff happening to me and around me, along with my family. I have events to plan and projects to do. Lists to complete. And I’m doing workouts and yoga classes that are really awesome yet don’t seem to get my abs to behave quite as well as they did before 50.

Anyway, I have “Stuff.” And sometimes the Stuff gets in the way of my writing.

But last night at yoga as I did that Boat to Low Boat pose until I was pretty sure death was near, I accepted that the “Stuff” that makes me crazy, stressed, happy, sad, frustrated, hopeful, angry, out of breath, depressed and excited is the REAL stuff that life is made of.

It’s not all Unicorns and Rainbows, people.

No matter what appearance I may present, I am a Hot Mess. We all are, really. We all have “Stuff” and my “Stuff” tries to block my visits to the Corner. It says to me, your words are not worthy. Keep them to yourself. It tries to hold me back.

But life is about curiosity even though you might fall down the rabbit hole and finding joy and laughter as the rain pounds down against your skin. It’s about jumping in puddles made by that rainstorm and being happy in that moment. It’s defined as much by how you work through the darkness or the restlessness or the change or the unkindness or the loss as by your smile when the living is easy. Be honest. Those times when you are blissful and grounded or when you’ve got it all together and feel balanced and at peace are rare and fleeting. Oh, like Maria, you get to that top of that mountain and spin around. But then something throws you and you’re right back fighting dragons — or Nazis and seven unruly kids.

But that’s another story.

Anyway, I’m coming to terms with the fact that Life isn’t about Keeping It Together. Cause you can’t. Life is about enjoying moments and nuances within the Crazy, Stressful, Busy, Uncomfortable or Difficult. Personal satisfaction and peace come from breathing and knowing that no matter how long it may seem you reside in the darkness, there is Light all around. You just have to open your eyes and see the beauty in the midst of the thorns.

See, It’s kinda like a Rose. A Rose is extraordinary. It starts small and then opens up into a full bloom with dainty, soft blossoms. But when you reach out and touch it, you may be pricked by a thorn. That thorn doesn’t make it any less beautiful. It just makes it Real.

So, I guess I had something to say after all. My Block that kept me out of the Corner was my own fear of allowing myself to become vulnerable and real. To admit I’m a Hot Mess. To say, at times I’m sad, lonely and depressed. At times, I just don’t have it together. But if I can’t say it in The Corner, where else can I say it?

It may not be profound. But though it’s hard, I’m gonna keep doing the Low Boat to High Boat yoga pose in an effort to train my abs. And I’m gonna continue to be busy to my corners and find joy as I dance in the rain.

I may never find smooth sailing out there. But I’m gonna accept, grow and sparkle in spite of and because of what I find — good and challenging — as I ride out the waves.

— Jenni

 

 

Oh the places you’ll go …

I’m re-reading one of my favorite books. The name doesn’t truly matter.  I believe reading is very personal and that a book invites us on adventure unique for each of us. How I experience a book and how you might experience the same one, well, that might be different. When we read, we let go of control and allow words to shape, create images and color our surroundings. How we experience a book is dependent on our personality, circumstances and where we are emotionally when we crack it open. I’ve re-read enough books to know that you can have a completely different experience another time through.

Now, I don’t re-read many books. I have too many new ones on my list! But there are a few that captivate me … that draw me in and keep me connected to them no matter how many books I read in the between times.

I received notification from Goodreads, the site I log my reads, want to reads and books read, that the final book in the installment would be released this week. I recalled how much I enjoyed the first two books last summer, sitting outside on my patio, savoring the pages as I soaked in some rays. These books had been discovered on a fluke. I’d been browsing the new release shelves at my local library when the title drew my attention.

I have to admit that I’m shallow when it comes to my media. An intriguing cover and catchy title are perfect bait.

Anyway … with a new release imminent, I decided to return to this well-loved tale. This time through, though, I wanted to own the Trilogy. And, as I’ve run out of shelf space and am trying to avoid additional clutter, I opted to download them onto my Nook. Thus my adventure in Prythian began anew.

rosesIt’s funny. I remember fundamentals. I know where the story is heading and how it will end. But I find myself reading between the lines now. Looking for signs of things to come in book two and beyond. I see the characters differently when I re-read them. I cast them in my mind and watch the story unfold. Books are my own mental movies. Of course, I know things at this point I didn’t know the first time through. Yet, I’m still fascinated. I”m still drawn in as I delve into the characters, their relationships, their stories and their adventures. Perhaps I even project myself into the character of Feyre.

Why, you may wonder, re-read a book? You know how it will go. You know how it will end. Where then is the draw? Wouldn’t it be better to find something new and journey somewhere else?

I guess a good book is like a favorite vacation spot. You travel there again and again. But when you arrive, your pulse rate slows and you find ease and a sense of bliss. You can’t wait to get there. You walk the well-known beach and discover a view you missed before. Or, you simply find pleasure in re-tracing the path you’ve gone so many times and gazing at the view of the bay which you’ve seen year after year but still can’t get enough of.

For years, my family has traveled to Traverse City in August. We’ve stayed on the East Bay. We’ve unpacked our luggage in the same — or much similar — hotel room.  We’ve shopped at Bayside Market for seafood and this wonderful cherry chicken salad. We’ve journeyed by car — and boat — along the peninsula to see the same incredible views. We’ve enjoyed Thai Food, pizza and cheese, crackers & wine at our umbrella covered picnic table. Over the years, we’ve built sandcastles, played beach volleyball and walked a familiar trek morning after morning … year after year. As an “early riser, ” I’ve watched the sun ascend over the horizon with coffee in my hand … and for a time kids on my lap.  We’ve embarked on sunset cruises or jaunted out to Elk Rapids by boat. We’ve floated on many inflated plastic “oasis” and sipped everything from water to sodas, beers, and tropical cocktails — relying on a cabana boy (or girl) to keep us stocked so we didn’t need to climb off our floating paradise.

A favorite book can be like that. It’s a friend. It’s a vacation spot. It’s a loved one … someone or someplace you revisit over and over and over again even though you know the ending. It’s a place you genuinely like to go where you can relax, unwind, let go, and enjoy every time you travel there.

When I unpack in that Traverse City hotel room, I know that seven days hence I will repack my bags. Another year will go by before I return — perhaps more. The kids will be different … older. I will be too. It is never the same, this favorite vacation spot by the bay. Each year, despite the repeats, something is different. Yet, I find joy every single time.

I guess it’s the same as that book … I know where the tale is headed. I know there will be struggles and celebrations, love and loss. But how I experience it and the pleasure I find reading it, that is new every time I crack it open.

Oh the places I go, without a ticket, car or passport. A favorite book is a friend or a special place that I can’t wait to return to … even though I know what happens on that final page …

                                                                                                                              — Jenni

Scattered Notes*

A few years ago — okay, it’s actually a couple decades ago by now  — a friend of mine wrote a play. And, in the summer of 1994, we set out to stage it.

It was a special summer, filled with lengthy conversations over boombas of Bud Light at our favorite watering hole Rumors. Besides typical twentysomething stuff, we discussed and analyzed the characters he had written, intent on creating truth on stage.

My character (Kate) was a little like me. She was the oldest in the family, tightly wound — a little intense, a little uptight, in control. She had a Franklin Planner and excellent organizational skills! Okay, a lot like me. But in the play, she was faced with things she didn’t know how to handle with a checklist. Change. Revelations. Loss.

I remember spending lengthy hours studying the script, striving to create honesty in the character of Kate. I delved deep. It was fun, exciting and challenging to originate a role … but there was one particular moment that was extremely difficult for me. At the end of the play, Kate had to dance. It was symbolic of letting go … of unconditional acceptance, forgiveness, love and embracing life as it was, not how she wanted to force it to be. She — I — had to stand alone in the spotlight and dance.

There I was during rehearsals with my three friends … amazing actors who slightly intimidated me with their own incredible talent and ease on stage. I stood alone in that final moment of the play. I wanted to do right by them and by my friend who wrote the piece and trusted me with this role. And to do right, I had to let go … to find something vulnerable inside myself and release it for them … and a bunch of strangers sitting out there in the darkness … to see.

It was one of the most difficult stage moments of my life.

Those who know me recognize me for a Type A personality — organizing, planning, controlling (in a good way) and managing lists and events are my thing. Allowing myself to open up and be vulnerable in front of others, well, that’s a lot harder.Give me lines, I’m good. Ask me to get raw on stage, that’s harder.

Vulnerability. It’s difficult, allowing others to see and know us for the good, the bad and the ugly. To share something others may not want or be ready to hear. It’s scary to take off the mask, allowing your true self, thoughts, hopes, desires, flaws, aspirations and feelings to be known by others. To uncover the cracks or struggles by opening your heart. To perhaps show that you don’t have it all together. To be vulnerable is to invite potential rejection and pain. On my yoga mat, it can mean I fall out of a pose — and everyone in the room sees or hears that. Off the mat, it can lead to hurt worse than hitting the floor.

Vulnerability means you speak your truth to someone you care for, owning your feelings, dreams and thoughts. You invite potential rejection when you do so and lose some friendships along the way — but you also open the doors to possibility. You make a film, investing your creativity and your self writing a script, casting it, mounting the production and spending hours editing. Perhaps it gets noticed … recognized … honored. Perhaps it’s not quite what you’d planned or thought it might be. You write a play, but no one shows up to audition yet somehow you stage it and learn amazing things about yourself anyway. You start your own business or publish a blog. You put yourself out there and see what happens.

When you allow yourself to be vulnerable, you invite in the consequences, discoveries and joys — the good and the difficult — the remarkable and the intense.

Three years ago, encouraged by two friends, I started My Own Little Corner by Jenni. Like the song from Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella, in my own little corner I can be whatever I want to be — say whatever I want to say and dream my dreams.

But I took my words out of “the corner,” dusting them off and offering them to readers I knew and readers I didn’t. I made myself vulnerable. And, as a result, I grew. I made new discoveries. In my life, I’ve chosen to explore passions and at times experienced the devastating pain of rejection and indifference. I guess, though, the point is if you don’t put yourself out there and allow yourself to be vulnerable, you’ll never know what is possible. You’ll never be free.

SNYou have to allow the Scattered Notes of your heart to play … let go … and dance.

I learned it that summer with Eileen, Paul and Matthew. I learn it over and over again as I open myself up … not knowing what will come. I make discoveries when I open my heart and get vulnerable. Even when I fall down. And, I can’t bring myself to regret those choices.

Kate taught me that. The possibilities that come when you stand in the spotlight, open your heart and your arms … and dance.

— Jenni

*dedicated to Matthew T. Troyer … happy birthday.

 

Silence, Betrayal & Forgiveness

The Thursday of Holy Week is the darkest day of the year for me. It symbolizes isolation and abandonment. It epitomizes betrayal …

In high school, I performed in the musical Godspell, an upbeat staging of the Book of Matthew dramatizing parables with clever dialogue and integrated music. The most powerful scene for me was The Last Supper when the cast wiped off our decorative face paint, revealing our true selves. It was then that the character of Jesus stated that one of us would betray him. Of course, we all denied it.

Next came the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus went to pray, begging his Father to remove the pain and suffering he knew was coming. He took us, his friends, along for support. He needed us to share the darkness with him. But we fell asleep, awakening to the slamming of the door. Then, Judas marched down the aisle, kissed Jesus on the cheek, and betrayed him to the Roman guards.

During the discordant music following, we … the friends who had shared years of good times together … we who ate, drank, talked and hung out together … we who only moments before declared we would never deny or abandon him … scattered.

Silence and Betrayal.

I wonder what Jesus felt right then, watching his friends bail on him moments after they promised they’d never betray him.  I wonder sometimes if Jesus’ friends had just been honest with him – and themselves — about their fears, would that have changed the dynamic? Would their honesty have offered Jesus comfort when he was imprisoned and they were gone?

What if when he passed them the chalice and suggested betrayal was in the air they had said to him: “Ya know, Jesus, I like you and truly care about you. But I’m not sure I can handle all this right now. I enjoy hanging out. But it’s getting a little intense and I need to step back.”

Or did they even know in that moment an unforeseen element would shake their relationship to the very core and fragment it? Was it a shock to them too?

It’s this Silence in the dark and the Betrayal that hits me hardest. They fell away without warning. They left him to walk the Via Dolorosa all by himself without so much as a word to someone they had only seconds, hours and weeks before professed to care for deeply. They cut him off and ran. Jesus knew it was coming, sure. But that didn’t make the denial and rejection easier.

I imagine Jesus there, knowing he’s on his own. God is silent. Judas sells him out. Peter denies knowing him and their friendship not once but three times. Every one of his other friends flees, leaving him with memories of words spoken and empty declarations of love. He stands before a hostile crowd, completely alone and — I think — sad too. All that time invested in relationships and all the adventures shared, only to watch those he loved most walk away without a word. Ouch!

Silence and Betrayal.

Yet … despite it all, he forgave them. He knew in his heart they loved and cared about him. Jesus was an expert on subtext! He knew their fears and doubts — the things they struggled with. But he walked the road with them as friends anyway, knowing eventually how it all would end. He loved them still.

Silence and Betrayal. It makes today the Hardest Day of the year for me.

forgieBut in Godspell, I was the Day by Day girl. And, in the scene prior to my song, I learned that we must each “each forgive our brothers, from our hearts.” So even in the darkest of darks 2000 years after that awful betrayal (and 35 years after my final performance of Godspell), Forgiveness is there, more powerful than hate and anger, offering healing.

I’m not alone when I say I’ve felt the sting of denial, silence and betrayal myself. There are friends I’d thought cared deeply about me but rejected and hurt me. I’m no saint, but I can choose to follow the example Jesus set. No matter what happens on my own personal Via Dolorosa — and no matter if people who I cared for hurt, deny or abandon me — I can choose to Forgive.

I still wonder if it would have been just a tinge gentler on Jesus if his friends had talked to him before they left. He would have understood. He would have loved them anyway and accepted their choice. But they didn’t. And I can’t help but think that betrayal cut as deeply as the nails in his hands and feet …

Maundy Thursday is about Betrayal. But Love and Forgiveness didn’t wait until the brightness of Easter Sunday. They are never delayed when truly hoped for. They were there in the darkness of Gethsemane when his friends fled. And they are still here today.

Hallelujah.

 

Have Courage and Be Kind

I was raised on The Wonderful World of Disney and my parents took us to see all the animated Disney films in the theatres. Disney wasn’t yet the corporate giant it is today, but the stories and characters fascinated me. Yes, as a little girl, I wanted to be a Princess. Part of me still does …

Back then, there were only three princesses to choose from: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella. Since my childhood, the Disney Princess Roster has expanded greatly, and I find something admirable in all of them. But those I personally relate to best are Belle and Cinderella.

Recently, Disney released live action versions of both tales. They were truly magical and showcased the reason I admire these two strong women. Belle reminds me of the importance of books, imagination and looking beyond an outer image to find and appreciate the beauty within. To not judge others or make casual assessments that destroy or define something because it is different. But I will address that in another blog.

It’s the live action Cinderella, starring Lily James and James Madden, that I focus on today. There have of course been many Cinderella productions, plays, musicals, ballets, and modern variations on the rags-to-riches tale. But the 2015 film touches my spirit and reflects the reason Cinderella has always been my favorite heroine.

In the film, Ella (the Cinder part comes later) comes from a loving home, but her mother dies early. Yet her mother’s love and wisdom gives Ella the strength to maintain Hope and eventually save herself. Oh sure, she gets a prince in the end and has a little help from a magical fairy godmother. But she chose how to deal with the life thrust upon her and find her own way out of the miserable circumstances brought on by her father’s unfortunate selection of Wife #2.

The message her mother gives? Have Courage and Be Kind.

When her stepmother oppresses and undermines her, turning her into a servant in her own home, Ella shows grace instead of defiance and makes the most of her situation, befriending both the servants and animals around her. Her life is full of cruelty and she could easily lose her spirit and despair. But in the end with the prince by her side, instead of repaying the aduse she took in kind, she maintains grace. She utters the stronger message, telling her Stepmother: “I forgive you.”

I’ve been cast as Cinderella in three stage productions and I treasure each experience. I love the dress of course. The transformation scene is one of the most magical moments in the story. But it’s this woman’s ability to find Joy and Calm in the midst of adversity that inspires me. She recalls and finds happy moments when all around her is selfishness. She has courage and is kind while the interlopers reject her. That is what I admire in Ella, the girl who deserves so much love yet sleeps alone by the cinders. She finds in herself a way to rise above it all.

Though I’ve played the role, I’m not sure I’ve always had courage or been as kind as I should have been. I have not always considered the feelings of others. I’ve not always been brave enough to hold my tongue, take the higher ground or walk away from a difficult situation. And, as a result, I’ve hurt people — sometimes even knowing the damage I might do I must admit. I’ve been selfish at times and thoughtless.

As I watched the film this morning, I felt inspired once again by the story to follow Ella’s mother’s sage advice. To be kinder and slower to take offense or rise to anger. To show courage in the midst of darkness and rejection or when I’m uncertain and alone. And, perhaps just as importantly, to forgive those who may have hurt me … no matter the cause or reason.

Disney’s Princesses offer valuable lessons that resonate with more than just young girls. A kinder more courageous world where we are gentle and gracious to each other despite our differences is something to Hope for. To forgive when we’ve been carelessly, thoughtlessly or even intentionally hurt … I’m a work in progress here. But, one situation comes to mind today. And my response is to echo Ella’s … “I forgive you.”

No fairy godmother or magic wand needed. Just Have Courage, my readers. And Be Kind.

— Jenni

 

Sugar & Spice

I packed away my daughter’s dollhouse today.

Sitting on the pink carpeting in her updated “tween”-styled room, I carefully removed tiny pieces of furniture and dusted them before placing them carefully in the box from which I had removed them nearly 9 years ago. Some of the pieces had come from my own dollhouse. Some were new to her. When it came time to pack away the tiny pink china dishes, I felt tears slipping down my face.

She’d once found so much joy in that dollhouse. We’d discovered it on a fluke at a garage sale. I’d planned on building her one, like my parents built mine. But we “renovated” this one instead, together selecting new colors, painting it, adding hardwood flooring, kitchen tile, carpeting and updated wallpaper, and finally decorating it with furniture. Her Lallaloopsy dolls found their home inside those walls. Many were still inside, lounging on dusty chairs and sleeping in the brass bed I treasured once upon a time.

I remember watching her play, moving and speaking for the dolls and creating magical stories only she understood.  I remember the many times she asked me to “play people” with her, and we sat down on the floor and imagined together.

The dollhouse, Lallaloopsies and American Girl dolls have been left alone for a year now. I was in Denial for a while. Hopeful that the days of her exploring the extraordinary, captivating widths and depths of her imagination and “playing people” were not over. But, as I removed dusty furniture and dolls, I knew that time had passed. And I was seriously weeping when I carried the dollhouse to the basement and placed the boxed up furniture on a shelf to save for Paige’s children to discover.

I’d been through this once before, as my son transitioned away from his once coveted Webkinz and Club Penguin membership. He packed his childhood toys away himself, though. One day they were in his room; the next they were in a box in the basement. It’s a Toy Story 3 moment — a film I truly cannot watch as I sob every time.

286592_10150290105123746_6489319_oThough endings come and the days of dolls conc, I know I will have new treasured times to share with Paige. No, she won’t climb on my lap and snuggle — she’d crush me if she did! And she won’t ask me to play people or share a tea party with her AG dolls. But, we’ll share tween dramas, iTunes downloads and boy problems, friendship struggles and pointe ballet performances. What’s ahead, I truly don’t know. But, we’ve already shared the fun of picking out a dress and styling her hair for her first middle school dance.

There will be many Sugary moments in the coming days, weeks, months and years.  Life is like that. The discomfort of Spice as relationships twist and turn and sometimes fall away is hard to endure. Endings are difficult. Sometimes you don’t see them coming. They sneak up on you, unexpected. One moment you’re immersed in sweet Sugary playtime and experiencing incredible joy. Then, the story changes. You reach the end of a book without realizing it. Some experiences — like childhood — can’t last forever, no matter how many stars we wish upon.

As I packed away Paige’s childhood treasures, a part of me was packed away too.  But, having been here before and made it to the other side with an amazing 17-year old soon to graduate and go to college son, I know there’s Hope. My daughter and I have always been close. And though her Tween to Teen years may present a lot of Spice, I know there will be Sugary Joy and Special Memories along the way.

And, for the record, after I cleaned out, vacuumed and dusted her room, I settled down on the floor to change all Paige’s American Girl dolls into Spring dresses and enjoyed a tea party of my own with them …

— Jenni

The Kindness of Strangers

In my spare time, I’m involved in community theatre. I have been performing since the age of 3 when I played an Angel in my church Christmas Nativity play and tried to steal the scene from the Baby Jesus. Since then, my passion became the stage.

16298804_10155079499963746_8308319323543457934_nCurrently I’m playing a role in a comedy entitled The Red Velvet Cake War, written by the authors of the famous 80’s sitcom The Golden Girls. Set in Texas, the play centers around three “unique” cousins and contentious — albeit comically crafted —  family relationships that lead to a cake baking battle and a family reunion wrought with challenges. It’s very funny, very silly, and filled with crazy characters that — despite their Texas drawls — probably resemble someone you know.

Comedy is tricky. During the 10 weeks of rehearsal, you receive little feedback. The director and stage manager hear the same jokes day after day. You work your lines and try different variations along the way. But you wonder as you approach opening night, will people laugh? Are we funny?

Last Sunday, as my friend and fellow cast member Kathleen and I departed the stage door, a sweet older lady in a wheel chair stopped us to say, “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon that gave me so much joy. I laughed and laughed … I really needed that.”

Now, as much as I crave delving into the crazy nooks and crannies of the characters I create, I needed to hear that. As much as I enjoy the creative process and the rush that comes from standing in the spotlight, I needed the validation. And this one woman who I’d never met before — this stranger — gave it to me.

I think many people are like that. Perhaps that’s one reason social media thrives. We post photos on Instagram and Facebook, comments on Twitter, moments on SnapChat and Blogs on our web sites. And then we wait to see who Likes, Follows, Comments, and Views our stuff.

Let’s be honest, ya’ll. Don’t you Look at your posts after you put them out there to see what response they received? How many times do you check for Notifications to find out who liked that Facebook photo or commented on your post? As human beings in the midst of busy lives, we crave connection and a reminder that someone out there cares and notices us. And, when a total stranger bestows upon us a gracious look, a thoughtful remark, or a gentle hug, that is powerful.

Like Blanche DuBois from Tennessee Williams Streetcar Named Desire — a role I’ve always longed to play (hint hint) — I too have “always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Sometimes, these strangers give me the best gift of all. Recognition that I gave them something. For me, it’s not simply the creative role and character development, the applause, the on-stage/off-stage friendships formed, the cast parties, the footlights, the Aqua Net, the costumes, and the roles that fuel my passion. It’s knowing that somewhere out there is somebody who needs a moment of escape. A moment to not think about the challenges of their life or the world today. A moment of laughter in the darkness where I am their light.

I’m an artist. And like most artists, I need validation. I like it when I have a friend out there in the audience to support and celebrate my passion for performing. And, I like to know if what I’m putting out there resonates or gives joy.   I’m pretty sure many people feel the same way. We need the kindness of strangers — and the kindness of friends and those we walk through life with — to let us know we’re on the right path, support us, and applaud our efforts.

In this show, the laughter feeds my spirit. The smiling faces I see as I leave the theatre tell me I’ve given them something. And that gives me great satisfaction … as do the Likes and Comments I receive on items I post on social media that my friends take time to notice.

But to those people in the dark … those strangers … Thank you …

— Jenni

on my yoga mat

When I roll out my Yoga Mat, it’s not just about exercise. Rolling out my mat begins an emotional, physical and spiritual journey every time.

I started practicing Yoga about five years ago. Like many in today’s society, I was battling some anxiety issues. My doctor suggested Yoga might help. At first, I practiced at home using DVDs, which were surprisingly inspiring. Then, one day, I found a Groupon for The Yoga Shelter where my practice truly began.

There are various ways to practice yoga and many “flows.”  I prefer Slow Flow, which is exactly what it sounds like. You slowly move from one pose to another, building strength in lengthy holds and breathing patterns along the way. Lately, though, I’ve become a little more adventurous and tried out Fusion, which combines Slow Flow with some faster “flows” that you memorize and process on your own. But mostly in yoga, I try to Not think or control, since that’s one of my personal challenges.

When I began classes at the Shelter, I found myself fixated on the music and how it made me feel. I downloaded music I heard into my Yoga Mix. Now, I don’t notice the music as much. But I do gravitate to specific teachers — Brittney, Marty and Suzanne — and find their classes the best fit for me personally. See, for me, yoga is more than exercise … it’s a transformative experience. The teachers guide you in poses, yes. But they also help you set an Intention at the beginning of class, and guide you through the hour. They help direct your thoughts and both your physical and spiritual exercise. They present ideas that flow with you as you practice.

Today as part of the class, Brittney mentioned the 3 Cs of Yoga. And, during the next 60 minutes, she explained them. Concentration, Consistency, and Cooperation. You Concentrate to remain present, prevent your mind from wandering and to build focus. You practice Consistently to become stronger emotionally, mentally and physically. And you Cooperate with your fellow yogis, adding your energy to the room and inspiring each other.

cropped-img_8686.jpgBut for me, there are 5 Cs. Next comes the Calm … in a difficult pose, I shake. Sometimes I even fall. Sometimes balancing is too difficult. Sometimes I can’t do a specific pose. Instead of becoming impatient, I work on cultivating a Calm response, And that’s something I seek to take from my mat into the world after class … a Calm response when stuff doesn’t go my way, when I struggle or when I fall.

And next I work on one of the most difficult things for me.The Fifth C. Reliquishing Control and Letting Go.

Ask anyone, they will tell you that I am a Control Freak. Giving up control makes me Nervous. I mean, how can I be sure my son will finish that project if I don’t check in and get regular updates? How can I tell if my daughter is ready for her test if I don’t ask? How can I know the showers will get cleaned if I don’t remind my husband? How can I get that invitation to the party, play or event if I don’t show my interest and convince them I want to be there? How can I be sure I’ll get a call or text if I don’t reach out? How can I get the part if I don’t prepare? How do I know what’s going on if I don’t ask? How do I know things will go the way I hope they will go if I don’t do something to make it happen?

See, Letting Go is pretty much the most difficult thing for me. I’m sure Idina Menzel’s famous tune is known to all. Well, it’s my Theme Song. I have an Elsa watch and three charms on my Pandora bracelet reminding me to “Let It Go.”  I have songs on my iPhone focusing on Surrender. I use essential oils like Release and Surrender to encourage that peace somewhere deep inside me that will finally allow me to do just that.

On my yoga mat is where I do a lot of my work. I meditate before class. And there, I remain calm and even laugh a bit at myself when I fall out of balance. There, I am learning to Let It Go. There if  the pose doesn’t go the way I’d hoped, I can remain calm. On my mat, I concentrate, practice consistently and cooperatively share my light with the class.

So Brittney, there are 5 Cs to Yoga. And it’s the 5th C that causes me the most challenge … and keeps me coming back to your class to practice again and again and again.

Maybe one day, I’ll get it. But for  now, I remain calm and just keep practicing …

Namaste.

                                                                                                                                   — Jenni

The Lush Life

A response to a writing challenge: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/lush/

During the transitional moments of our days, the moments where our thoughts stray or drift away from the mundane routine, we ponder and reflect on days past where it was simpler, easier, perhaps even better. We daydream and fantasize and glorify times and relationships that have drifted away.

It was better then, we say, during our Lush Life. The Magic of Christmas was always present. The rush of shopping was fun and done in lavishly decorated shops with the help of knowledgeable sales clerks. The gatherings with family and friends were rosy and full of great conversation. Our social outings were spontaneous and exciting. The good old days hold a golden glow in our minds.

Was it ever that way? Was it ever that good? When we only had 5 TV Channels and a record player — or AM/FM Radio — to entertain us, was life better? When our phone wasn’t a life-line to the world, did we have enough information? When we weren’t conditioned to post and check Facebook, Twitter, Messaging, Instagram and SnapChat every few minutes, did we have true friends?

When every news story didn’t begin with Trump said/Trump did/Trump tweeted, was our quality of life sweeter?

When we played outdoors more on swing-sets with neighborhood friends, disappearing after school and only returning for meals, did we live more fully? When the only way we could find our friends was to speak to them on a phone or face to face, were relationships easier to manage? Were we more connected? Did we nurture our friendships with greater respect and care?

Were we kinder to each other when we didn’t have texts, messaging or emails to  make us anonymous and make meanness easier?

Before social media made us unsocial and disconnected us with the people who matter most, condensing conversations and thoughts to a 140 character tweet, was that the Lush Life?

#IMissIt

via Daily Prompt: Lush

Hope Shines Brightest in the Darkness

A friend of mine has an annual tradition of selecting a Word each January 1 as the theme of her “new year.” Now, I don’t believe in resolutions. I believe in setting intentions and working to realize goals. But, she inspired me — as she often does. And this year, I felt moved to do the same.

I mulled over it for several days. I mean, this was the word for my year. And once selected, it had to have staying power. A couple ideas popped into my mind. But there was one Word that showed up more than others.

Hope.

So, I set my word. And as part of my 2017 Theme, I wore something white (or winter white since I consider cream to be white) every day in January. Just my way of wiping the slate clean and shining in what I consider to be the darkest month of the year.

For the first week or so, my spirits were high. After all, I had Hope. In every situation, I was able to find a hopeful element, something to hold onto. Now, don’t mistake this as my saying I had it all together, nothing went wacky or every aspect of my life was perfect blah blah blah. But, I was able to cultivate Hope in something and nurture it deep inside myself.

But, tossing out a word like Hope to the universe is like daring it to thwart you. It’s like asking for Patience and realizing the only way you develop Patience is by managing a lot of crap and negative stuff to find your strength and calm amidst it all. Hope is like that. Pretty soon I realized this might be trickier than I originally thought. Stuff started flying my way and I began to feel ill-equipped to handle it. My Hope started to waver.

But I held on because I recognized that Hope is like that. It attracts gloom and despair.  Then, Hope sheds light on those shadows in the corner … the doubts, fears, struggles and losses you’d prefer to ignore because they cause discomfort. But you know what I’ve discovered during the past 39 days? Hope shines brightest in the darkness.

A little candle flame cannot be seen in the light of day. Its strength reveals itself in the blackest hours of the night or in those times you are in the corner struggling with your personal shadows. The light of Hope shines the most brilliant on sad days, amidst lonely rainy moments where you feel abandoned, scared, uncertain, weary or alone and during the times you experience frustration, loss, fear, self-doubt and anxiety.

It’s easy to hold on to Hope when everything is going your way. But when it doesn’t … when you read about injustice in a local jail, when the Senate approves a nomination you dread, when a friend suffers from a terrible illness or worries about the future of their family in today’s precarious international environment, when you see unkindness all around you … or in those personal moments of gloom when you struggle with day-to-day “stuff,” when you feel rejected, restless and unfocused or when you just can’t seem to find your joy, that’s when the flame of Hope shines brightest. Hope gives you the strength to believe in something beyond your own self.

Hope does not promise me a rose garden or guarantee that there won’t be shadows along my path this year. It doesn’t say I will have an easy go of it in 2017. It doesn’t mean my little flame of Hope won’t struggle on windy, rainy, cold or difficult days. But, it provides me a focal point that helps me cultivate strength to deal with challenging, difficult people and times, as well as the emotions they stir in me. Hope sparks and rises in the darkness.

Of course, there are still those moments when I question everything. When my own personal shadows threaten to rise up and drown my little light. I’m shaken to my core and wonder what difference it makes if I throw in the towel and allow despair and doubt to take me down the river.After all, what can my little light do anyway?

And that’s when I hear it … A still small voice whispering in my ear.

Ah, my child … but that’s the point.  That’s why we chose Hope as your word. Now … let’s get on with it.                                                                                                                                      – Jenni

 

Hope is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words  –

And never stops  – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird –

That kept so many warm – .

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet – never – in Extremity

It asked a crumb – of me.

– Emily Dickinson #314