Putting away childish things...

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. St. Paul,  I Corinthians 13:11

In many places one of the biggest holiday events, particularly for charitable foundations, is the "Festival of Trees". At these gatherings donated Christmas trees are auctioned off to help raise money for new cancer wings to a hospital, an addition to the animal shelter or to help a terminally ill's child's 'wish' come true. Each tree has a theme. I've seen "The Nutcracker Suite", with mice, ballerinas, snowflakes, flowers and a Nutcracker tree topper. I've adored the "Baker's Dozen"..a tree completely decorated with miniature baking implements; roller pins, tins, tiny tubs of flour aprons and recipe books. I thought, given that I live at the ocean, the always stunning "Beach Lovers Delight", embellished with shells in every shape and size, was magical. Each tree had another unique, carefully planned symphony. When I got home from attending these beautiful parties, I'd look over at my funny, goofy, random tree and see a cacophony of mismatched ornaments and cringe.

As tempting as it was for me to chuck my ridiculous, mismatched collection of Christmas decorations, I could never seem to part with them. I have a few stunning crystal ornaments that catch the light and reflect it throughout the room. I have the little gold colored church bauble, that my husband and I gave to our wedding attendants, as party favors. Mixed are the reminders of our children's births, a cable car from San Francisco, a Saguaro cactus from Arizona, a glass blown Eiffel tower, little hockey skates, tiny skis, ballet shoes and trains. We have a Darth Vader that, when plugged into a Christmas light bulb, says, in that raspy James Earl Jones voice, "The Force is with you young Skywalker, but you are not a Jedi yet". That expression has greeted me each time I've turned the tree on for the past 15 years...because my oldest was a Star Wars fanatic when he was very young. There is the elegant Tiffany engraved ornament hanging next to my schlocky German Shepherd angel. A carefully glittered snowflake shimmers like diamonds, just above the incredibly tacky snowman bell. 

If I were to continue to peruse my tree, mixed in with all of these tokens of my married life are the ornaments of my childhood. When I first got married, and moved to Germany, my mother gave me the box of these ornaments as a way to bring my past along with me. Knowing I wouldn't be home for the first Christmas of my life, she wanted me to have "home" wherever I was. So our moves to Wildflecken and  Idar-Obersten, Germany, Lawton, OK and then back to Camden, Maine, all brought my treasures along for the ride. None of these are valuable in the monetary sense. But each one reminds me of being a little girl. I have bells with my parents and my names on them. and somewhat tasteless 70's ideas for Three Kings crowns. I have some 'once adorable' mementos of buying my 'yearly ornament' at Gervasoni's on State Street in Santa Barbara, following our annual trek to go see "The Nutcracker Suite". Going to Gervasoni's was a tradition my best friends, our mothers and I had. Figuring out which ornament to pick was nearly impossible, as the usual flower shop was transformed into a winter wonderland. And yet, each year we managed to find the perfect one. And I still have all of them hanging on my tree.

The most raggedy of all of ornaments (and that's saying something) is a half bald, woe begotten duck, made out of puff balls and wearing a ski hat. This is the oldest ornament I have, and it made the long journey of my childhood from San Francisco to New York to Santa Barbara and then on to Maine. It wouldn't even suffice as a decent dog toy. Still, it's my favorite. For reasons I can't fathom, when I was tiny I named him "The Chickie" and the Chickie he's remained to this day. I still pull him out from the boxes each year and greet him as I would an old friend who has been on this long journey with me. He's seen it all: the year I turned 5 and had chicken pox and ended up lying in bed wearing my new ice skates and trying to hug my sled. He was present in the afterglow of my seeing my first Broadway show, my becoming a horse crazy tween, my cousins and I sleeping under the tree to "catch Santa", my falling in and out of crushes, and my first true heartbreak. When my then new husband was away for months at a time, and I'd get the ornaments out by myself, the Chickie would remind me that I could connect my Christmases of years past with my present. 

Today I'll begin the process of de-Christmasing my house. I'll bring out the boxes in which to place the garland, fold up my burgundy tablecloth and remove the holiday paraphernalia. I will begin to take the ornaments off my tree, one by one. I will carefully look over each piece and decide if it's time has come to meet the rubbish bin. It's not an easy call. Some do actually break. With two exuberant, immense dogs, for whom the tree is nothing more than a fun object into which to crash, I've lost my share of glass balls. Others just looked worn and tired. I know that it's time for them to go...and in doing so, to make room for new pieces of new memories. Yet, it's tough to say goodbye even to the worst of the lot. By saying to them, "You look just awful. I can't have you on my tree any longer", it's as if I'm losing a part of my own Christmas memories. I'm the furthest thing from a pack rat. If anything, I tend to purge our house prematurely. When it comes to Christmas ornaments I've had for 40 years, however, I'm a hopeless nostalgia keeper.

I've resolved to let go of many of these ratty bits of fabric. The plaid covered bell, with places that are so bald Styrofoam can seen underneath is going to the trash. The assortment of Santa looking ornaments, that have always seemed a creepy to my daughter, will be donated, since they're in good repair. The snowman that I myself think looks a little demonic can bite the dust. The others, who resemble nothing in particular but just seem boring, dated and devoid of sentimentality, are out of here. Harder to release are the dodgy ones that evoke childhood memories. I know it's time. I know they don't add any character to our tree. But I think of my late father, whom I adored, when I put up the now shabby lobster boat. I remember my Grandma when I see the falling apart little doll she once sewed for me. And then there is The Chickie. My friend. My amigo. My traveling companion. I realize that I'm an adult and, to paraphrase St. Paul, it is time to put away childish things. 

I'm just not quite ready yet.

No apologies and no regrets...or not.

Accept everything about yourself - I mean everything, You are you and that is the beginning and the end - no apologies, no regrets. -- Henry Kissinger

It's very common to read magazine articles, watch television programs, discover inspirational books and listen to self-improvement gurus discuss the concept of living with 'no apologies and no regrets'. We're implored to accept ourselves for whom we are and to avoid making any offering of remorse for our lives. We hear the virtues of being 'true to ourselves' and not compromising anything in which we believe. We're asked to not self-censor or to be self-critical in any way. We are to love ourselves, just where are at this very moment, and unapologetically find delight in living authentically. I agree with some of this...up to a point. I do believe that it's important to find the path in which our "own selves can be true" (with my apologies to both Polonius and the Bard for my twist of words.). However, I believe that living fully without apologies or regrets can ultimately be harmful to us and to those about whom we care.

As a yoga instructor, part of my job is helping my students to unlock their hidden potential. For many, the lives they've led up until now have been for other people. The demands that parents, spouses, teachers, employers and even children, have placed upon these students have left their emotional well dry. They feel downtrodden and don't really know how to pick themselves up. They have long since suppressed their own dreams and desires, in favor of living for others. They have fit in with what they were expected to do, rather than where their passions lie. Watching these students blossom is one of the most extraordinary experiences I've had in my life. Fostering another human being to grow in confidence and in awareness is a humbling experience for me. I feel honored to be in a position to assist, in a meager way, the knitting together of a student's idea of self. Being in a position to aid in this has been a true blessing in my life. I've seen women, with a lifetime of negative body image, begin to feel comfortable in their skin for the first time in their lives. I've seen men who had never taken time away from sports and their work to slow down. I've seen teens, still gangly and awkward, find a measure of contentment and peacefulness. It's been, without question, a job for which I feel great appreciation.

And yet, living a life completely free of both regret and apology can be 'too much of a good thing'. One reason I feel terribly uncomfortable with the policy of 'no apologies, no regrets' is that this sentiment can lead us too far in the opposite direction; towards that of selfishness, apathy and indifference. If we live our lives so completely focused on our own centeredness and in our own personal manner, where does that leave other people? Can we live a life without acknowledgement and atonement, and still remain kind and just? Is it possible to be fully aware of our own innate value, while refraining from trampling on the values of others? This quandary isn't new. St. Clement of Alexandria wrote, "It seems the greatest of all disciplines is to know oneself; for when a man knows himself he knows God" in the first century A.D. But can we know ourselves, and tap into the divine, if we're exclusively focused on our own desires?

Despite how chic the buzz terms of inner discovery and remaining firm in one's own beliefs may be, I can't help but wonder whom we must override to do just that. If we live a life without apology, are we likely to hurt someone else in the process? I don't see that it's possible to avoid bruising relationships, even with the best of intentions. If we go further down this path of authenticity, we're certain to be in a position of confrontation. Does this mean we need to subdue our inner light to avoid ire in others? No. We should not suppress our true selves. However, a truly developed to enlightened soul will not seek out to subjugate another person, nor will she intentionally bring harm. We can rest in our self-confidence, and still accept responsibility for our actions. We can refrain from putting down the views of others and learn tact. We can treat those with whom we disagree with respect. We can be patient with those who are impatient. Most of all, when we have wronged another person, intentionally or not, we have the further responsibility to apologize. Apologizing is actually far more difficult than excusing oneself. It takes a voluminous amount of humility to accept one's own error and to say "Mea culpa" to someone. The fear of rejection, the embarrassment of error and the admission of guilt are terrifying. It's actually much easier to say "I don't apologize for my actions" than it is to admit them as wrong. This doesn't mean we should compromise a precious belief. But, it does mean that we need to integrate a part of prodigious humility into our lives. "Knowing ourselves" doesn't just mean being aware. It is more than that. It means striving for improvement of mind, body and spirit. It's very difficult to do this if we can't admit when we happen to be wrong.

Additionally, living our lives without any regrets is foolhardy. Regrets are healthy. Regrets are needed. If we didn't regret our mistakes we would never grow beyond them. Regretting one's actions can actually be a pivotal turning point for many. If we live our lives, blindly forgetting everything we've ever done, then we have no ability to take a step back, examine what we've done well, what we've done poorly, and moving forward in the proper direction. I have women friends who have regretted the marriage they've made. They mourn the loss of their youth and the time wasted. I know men who regret leaving a job they loved for a more lucrative (but less fulfilling) career. I think we have to be careful to live our lives in an examined manner; to see where we've made mistakes with our choices, and then to create a new, empowered beginning for ourselves. Should we forget our mistakes? Not at all! If we dismiss places in which we've gone astray, we are doomed to return to those places again and again. Regretting our lives to the banishment of future possibilities is unhealthy. But choosing to think about these regrets as lessons can actually be both liberating and powerful.

e.e. cummings wrote, "it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." Some people believe that this sentiment echoes that of Dr. Henry Kissinger's words, at the beginning of this piece. I respectfully disagree to draw the parallel. It's my personal, and humble opinion, that we can be fully aware, fully cognizant and fully enlightened people, living a life "in the direction of our choice", while still maintaining a sense of kindness, understanding, responsibility and generosity towards others. We can make the choice to live in the moment, who we are right now and still respect the feelings of those we love. We can decide to work towards intellectual growth while still acknowledging our faults, making amends and learning from our past blunders. It's a tight rope. It's a delicate balancing act. It's not easy. But, I believe that, if we do apologize, and we do choose to examine our regrets, we have a much better choice of growing into those people we truly are.

Fail to plan...plan to fail.

I am the first person to admit that I am a dreadful planner. I have no idea what I need to do, where I need to go, and who I'm going to disappoint. The fact is, I tend to be a spontaneous person. I hate making reservations because it feels like a albatross laden commitment. I adore 'just happening' upon an unknown-until-now restaurant. There is something magical about the power of synchronicity that never fails to excite me. Some of the most extraordinary experiences I've had have been ones that have just been allowed to unfold on their own. I've met wonderful people, dove into brand new experiences (for which I had no time to become nervous) and experienced adventures without any sense of preparation of apprehension. I marvel at the twists and turns my paths will take, if I am open to any possibility.

While I think of myself as a free spirit, I certainly don't appear that way to others. I have a horrible feeling that, where I see a joie de vivre, others may see a carelessness. When I envision myself as extroverted and spontaneous, others may see as foolhardy and irresponsible. I have been open to exceptional adventures, simply by being in the right place at a specific moment. But, I have let others down. I have forgotten appointments, I have spaced out commitments and I have been impetuous when caution was merited. I have been disorganized, while trying to explain that my methods might "appear" to be unstructured but that there is order within the chaos. Few people actually buy that malarkey from me....and those are very close to me will call me on my lack of prior planning.

For the most part, I truly want to be more organized. I would prefer not to disappoint anyone I care about. I would love to know where every important item is when I need it. I would like to have a yearly calendar that I simply update every December for the following year. Numerous friends have tried to 'teach me' their systems but their methodology just gets lost in my creative process (otherwise known as laziness). I like to believe that I have an artistic temperament and that I need a certain amount of chaos to flourish for me to see the larger picture. I feel stifled when in the presence of someone overly regimented....such as the Queen of Order herself: Bree Van DeCamp from "Desperate Housewives". One area I find fascinating, as well as entertaining, about Bree is that the more she pulls in the reins of her scheduled perfection, the more her life begins to unravel. While I enjoy using that extreme as an example, I believe that deep down, I have a fear of the very same thing happening to me: if I structure my life, I will stifle myself and everything for which I'm responsible will fall apart.

The single area in which I have discovered the ideal balance is in my yoga classes. I teach 4 to 5 classes per week. Because I teach Ashtanga Yoga, I have created a rudimentary outline for the form the classes will take. My students find this to be extremely comforting because they are able to expect what general poses will come next. This outline also allows for a few spaces in which to 'add in' some new asanas to try. While I try to offer at least 4 new poses each month, these experimental times are still 'scheduled' within the framework of the traditions of our class. My students are able to prepare for a time to try poses that are far more challenging during these blocks, or far more restorative. We allow ourselves to be open to the possibilities that these new asanas will offer us, individually and as a group. There are some that are more successful than others...so successful that I will continue to develop our course design with these new poses to become a regular part of our day. There are others that bomb miserably, and all of us can't wait to be done with them forever.

I have begun to set more realistic goals for myself. I realize that I will never be a color coded system Mom. I may still lose track of an important paper or two. I will overlook a project I had been sure I'd get to. But, I plan on attacking my firm commitments more immediately. I believe that the sooner I am able to finish an assignment, the more quickly I will have to move onto the next train of thought I'm being pulled towards. By giving myself the idea of "no more procrastination", I may just be able to fulfill my responsibilities, while still having time to drift towards an art exhibit I was delighted to discover. Who knows? A more proactive me may still retain the same light heart.

I just hope I can remember where I left my shoes because I'm eager to get started.

Is life not a hundred times too short for us to stifle ourselves. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

The 5th of July

Freedom is the oxygen of the soul. ~Moshe Dayan



Independence Day has always been one of my favorite holidays. Growing up with a father passionate about the 4th of July helped me to see the day with eyes to appreciate what an exceptional holiday it is. James Blaine once wrote, "The United States is the only country with a known birthday." Although other countries would beg to differ on this point, the fact remains that the 4th of July is a time for all Americans, whether descendants of those who signed the Declaration of Independence to those only recently embracing citizenship, to stand together, in celebration for our country's uniqueness. Our ideal of freedom and equality for all people make us a leader in the world...not just in might, but in our vision of all people having a voice to be heard. On the 4th of July, we stand together, passionately American. We have family gatherings, barbeque's, picnics, parades, town fairs, and of course, fireworks. Under the canopy of those extraordinary explosions, we can celebrate the birth of country, and feel a connectedness to our nation and to one another.



But, the question begs to be asked: What happens on the 5th of July? Do we remain united in our compassion towards all Americans? Do we embrace the ideals of freedom and unity? Do we keep that spirit of a truly United states alive? Or, do we fall back onto negative behavior patterns for the other 364 days a year? Do we keep brotherhood and sisterhood alive and well all throughout the year...or do we fall prey to squabbling over political parties, agendas and divisive attitudes of superiority?



As a passionate reader, I have always loved series of books.This isn't simply because of my enjoyment of literature. I adore knowing what happens "next". As a child, I was not content to hear the words "And they lived happily ever after." I wanted to know exactly what action took place next. Did Cinderella and Prince Charming truly live happily ever after, or did they have arguments over what to do with the castle? Did they have children? What ever became of the wretched stepsisters? What about the fairy godmother? Does she remain a part of Cinderella's life? We'll never know, because the story simply ends on Cinderella's personal Independence Day. We don't know if she grew disheartened in her life, or if the stepsisters learned from their experience to treat others with kindness and dignity. We are never told if Prince Charming is a good father or if the kingdom appreciates their new Princess. We don't hear about the day "happily every after" begins. One of the reasons I've enjoyed rereading the Chronicles of Narnia over the years is because the series of books gives the reader enough time to discover everything about the characters, the world they inhabit and to bring the series to a firm conclusion. Every story needs an ending...either one that the reader is meant to discover on her own, or what that is resolute and final.

With this idea in mind, I invite you to explore your feelings about the 5th of July. How can we continue to breathe the very air of freedom in an often quarrelsome nation? What we can do, personally, to protect our freedoms and appreciate the contributions that others may make? Can we find paths around discord into true unity? I believe we can, and that we already have the skills to do so. We simply forget them. We go to sleep on the 4th of July, as one, and we wake up on the 5th as partisans. We need to maintain that 4th of July spirit, not by our nationalist words, but by our meaningful actions. The manner in which we speak to one another, how we treat people we may disagree with and how we embrace all elements of freedom can create a far greater sense of true patriot unity than one day of fireworkds. The best preservation of freedom, in my humble opinion, is by appreciating it, and protecting liberty for all citizens...not just those we happen to agree with.

By not just celebrating the 4th of July, but by celebrating our Independence on the 5th of July, and the 6th of July, and every other day of the year, we have the ability to find out "what happens next" in our nation's ongoing history. America did not begin and end its story that day in Philadelphia. It has begun its story every morning since thathen. Let's not gloss over what comes next by saying "And America lived happlily every after". Let's embrace making those words come true.