A book by any other name is still as sweet

These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves.  From each of them goes out its own voice... and just as the touch of a button on our set will fill the room with music, so by taking down one of these volumes and opening it, one can call into range the voice of a man far distant in time and space, and hear him speaking to us, mind to mind, heart to heart.  ~Gilbert Highet


It should come as no surprise that I'm a book lover, a true Bibliophile. From the first moment I wake up, until my eyes grow unbearably heavy in my head, I am reading. Books, both reviews and in metaphor, have been a large part of this blog, not to mention, my life. I can't remember ever not reading. My mother loves to tell the story of my seething, incensed Kindergarten teacher who told Mom, after my first bewildering day at school, "She knows how to read!", believing that I should be unable to do so, by virtue of my age. To quote Curtis Sittenfeld's wonderful fictional account of the former first lady, Laura Bush's passion for books, "Above all else, I was a reader." I'm sure those who know would feel this is a fitting epithet for me too.


Although I graduated from both high school and college, and was well on the path to an M. Ed., I still maintain that my greatest education has come from reading. I consider myself to be an autodidact. I learned far more about physics from reading "Einstein's Dreams" than I did in class. My passionate love of history was animated far more from essays and fictional accounts than from dry lectures aimed at entrapping fellow students on exams, rather than imparting knowledge. I never knew I could be enamored of geography, philosophy or chemistry, until I began perusing them on my own. I've discovered a world of fascinating subjects simply by turning the pages of a book on a subject about which I knew very little. For me, reading has been a way to shine the light on a world of possibilities...ones I never deemed accessible.


In my blog piece, a couple of years ago, I daydreamed about what heaven would be like for me. I envisioned an English library, with ever changing views to suit my mood. In my interpretation of heaven, every book I've ever wanted to read would be available at my fingertips. I have since gone on to think about my long desire for one of those fabulous library ladders on casters, a la Harry Potter in Olivander's wand shop. I truly stand by this interpretation of my own desire in "The World to Come"...I can't fathom eternity unable to read. 


To Kindle or not to Kindle was a piece I wrote not long after my meditations on heaven. Having borrowed a Kindle from my library, preloaded with a few titles that the staff had picked (two of which I'd already read), I can't say I was impressed. I simply didn't 'get' the big deal of a Kindle. I missed the tactile sensation of page turning. I missed using a bookmark. Silly though it may sound, the ability to watch my reading progress by the advancing movement of my bookmark, gave me a profound sense of satisfaction. I knew I'd miss wandering aimlessly around bookshelves, my hand alighting on a tome that no one had picked up in a long time...feeling as much a discoverer as Christopher Columbus, and realizing I'd come upon a land of treasure.


This opinion of the Kindle recently changed. During my confinement (which I define as an inability to get to the library), my girlfriends banded together and bought me a Kindle and an Amazon gift card with which to purchase e-books. I was in so much pain, and feeling so trapped in my own home, that something I had once 'poo-poo'ed' became a delightfully transporting mechanism. Since simply getting up and walking down the hall was a challenge, I knew that my meanderings around the library or a bookstore would be months off. The closest I could muster would be meandering around the Amazon website, picturing the concept of virtual shelves in my imagination. As tactile as I am, it was a bit of a challenge for me initially. But I came to realize that I could 'pick up' a book by reading sample chapters and I could chose to put that book back down, or to order it on my Kindle. And thus, a new love affair began.


I adore my Kindle now. I bring it everywhere. I can finally travel without having my entire carry-on bag be crammed with half a dozen hardcovers. I can slip it into my purse and sneak a chapter in while waiting in doctors' offices, during boring meetings and ever-so-carefully in the bathtub. I treasure how tiny a space it takes up and how giant a world it opens up for me when I'm reading. I am completely and totally a convert, with all the zeal and enthusiasm of one who has just found a new religion. I now espouse that books, in any form, are still books. I preach the saving of trees to all who will listen. I share the wonder of any book available at any hour of the day or not. I have shown an elderly friend, who is losing her sight, how large the print can be made to suit her. I have helped my mother, who is my soulmate in reading, how to use her new Kindle, and have successfully transformed her into adoring it too. It's become a way of life for me, in just the few months that I've had it.


Given my new creed on the use of an e-reader, has my vision of Heaven changed? Do I now picture something entirely different? No. My imagination, my comfort place and my illusion of where I daydream about is still my wonderful library. I picture Mahogany shelves from floor to ceiling. I can just make out the unbelievably comfortable chair, the side table holding my tea and the beloved wheeled ladder. I can smell the slight mustiness coming from the tomes. But in my eager hands, there is just as much likelihood of seeing a conceptualized Kindle, as there is a leather bound volume. 


As far as my previous opinion, mea culpa. 

Inspiration and Travel

"The world is a book, and those who don't travel only read one page." ~ St. Augustine

In the next six weeks, I am going to be traveling to 5 different states. My schedule is daunting and each destination will require a high level of energy from me. I am going to moving my teenagers into two different (and new) spaces 1800 miles apart from one another. I'm going to visit with dear friends and family. I'm going have the chance to visit many new places to which I've never traveled before. I will have a tight schedule, and each piece of the itinerary is going to have to line up perfectly in order for me to accomplish each key mission. At the same time, I don't want to visit each of these unfamiliar destinations with my head buried in a day planner. My hope is to a bang up job for the crucial reasons I'm in each place, but I also have faith that I'll have enough time, each in every location, for wonder, for daydreaming, for unplanned exploration and for discovery.

My first mission will be going to Florida to help find my son an apartment, to furnish it and to get him ready to move in later in August. Because I'm from the west coast, my family tends to go west on our vacations, rather than south from New England. Florida is a completely new expedition for us, and I'm incredibly proud of my son for forging off on his own in this way. In moving to Florida from Maine, Joshua is being quite intrepid....he is moving away from everything that's familiar and comforting. Because of his move, I get the pleasure in learning about a new place along with him. My hope is that we'll get to know the area extremely well. I don't want to just walk into national chain stores. Rather, I want to discover the offbeat places, the ones that locals know about, as we set up his new home. We can remain within our comfort zone, or we can expand upon it, and hopefully, achieve something beyond our limitations. Having the chance to set up a place to live for Josh will be the most important piece of this trip. However, I'm also excited about the chance to meet new people, eat in new restaurants, learn about a part of our nation with which I'm completely unfamiliar and to practice patience when things will, inevitably, not go as planned.

After Florida, my daughter and I are traveling to Del Mar, California, where we'll spend a week on the beach with family and friends. Although I was born in San Francisco, and spent much of my growing up life in Santa Barbara, I've never been to Del Mar. I've seen pictures. I've heard wonderful stories. I've seen scenic locations in movies. But, I've never actually been there myself. It has been too many years since my toes wriggled in the Pacific Ocean. It's been an eternity since I've had nothing to do but lie on a beach and soak up the sun. As much of an art lover as I am, it's felt like centuries since I've been immersed in an artists' community. I have missed eating fresh avocados, tasting perfect Mahi-Mahi and picking lemons right from the tree. I look forward to exploring every one of my senses in this enchanting, radiant Shangri-La.

Finally, after returning to the Northeast, I'll bring my daughter back to her beautiful prep school in western Massachusetts. After visiting family in New Hampshire, we'll move through our routine of setting up Caroline's room in record time. Despite our prodigious efforts and efficiency, there is something bittersweet about moving her into her dorm room each year. We have our systems down to a science now, and we pack our car in reverse order of how we plan on unloading. We know just what to bring in first, and can quickly create order from chaos. At the same time, with every poster I hang on the wall, or with each sweater I fold, I realize that my little girl is that much more independent from me. I am thrilled with her success and determination, and I feel blessed that her school is a perfect match. And yet, as I unpack the car, I'm letting go of her, item by item. Still, I have been fortunate to learn the area around her school very well. I have restaurants that I just love returning to, and people I enjoy seeing when I'm there. I feel a sense of loving community in a place that doesn't even 'belong' to me. It's always a joy to return, to see familiar faces and to feel at home in a place that is wonderfully welcoming.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca, the great Roman philosopher and dramatist, wrote "Travel and change of place new vigor to the mind." I have resolved to see the next month as a way to accomplish that idea. I hope to re-energize my spirit, to broaden my perspective and to find myself richly renewed in each unfamiliar place. I hope that I can discover something wonderful about every destination, and I hope that I will find myself enlightened by new locales. Ray Bradbury wrote, "Half the fun of the travel is the aesthetic of lostness." While I'd prefer not to get completely lost, I am excited about finding that tingly feeling of not being completely on the map all the time. I hope to accomplish my set tasks, to learn some new skills, and above all, to enjoy this lengthy amount of time out of my routine.

Beyond that, I'm open to new possibilities. I just hope I don't lose my luggage in the process.

Eternal Sunshine

A cloudy day or a little sunshine have as great an influence on many constitutions as the most recent blessings or misfortunes. -- Joseph Addison

There are many benefits to living in Maine. Our proximity to wonderful beaches, fresh seafood and a plethora of outdoor activities, ranging from skiing to sailing, are among those items in the "plus" category. Our relatively sheltered way of life and small town atmosphere create a safe place to raise children. While we're traveling and asked where our home is, people will sigh and picture lighthouses, deep forests, lobsters, blueberry fields and Andre the Seal, upon hearing our answer.The billboard slogan that greets visitors heading north on I-95 reads "Maine: the way life should be".

Yet, despite being able to go to LL Bean in Freeport 365 days a year, 24 hours a day, there is a major drawback to living in Maine: the lack of sunshine for a large portion of the year. Although we don't have to contend with the same shortage of daylight hours that my Swedish friends have told me about, we do have a discouraging lack of sunshine for more than half the year. Given our proximity to the ocean, as well as the northern tip of the continental U.S., we are often shrouded in darkness....from clouds or because of the calendar. The lack of sunshine is okay at first; we learn to create roaring fires in the fireplace, to snuggle under blankets and generally hibernate with the indoor comforts of prolonged coziness. After a while, however, the novelty wears very thin. I find myself sinking into my own black hole of grumpiness and anxiety. I forget how happy I can be in the magical, lyrical days of shining Summer and Autumn ablaze. Especially because we lack a true Spring season (we move from Winter to Mud to the Fourth of July), the desolate and disheartening gray seems to linger interminably.

Despite being a native Californian, I've lived in the east far longer than I did in the west. Yet, a large part of who I am, of what I need to be truly happy, lies 3000 miles away; the sunny skies of the southwest. When the winter blues turn toxic, I know that, for my own benefit, I have to slip away from Maine's foggy shores to rediscover the cheerful person I am. It's as if the low cloud cover not only encompasses my home, but my very soul. I forget to count my blessings. I have amnesia regarding the state of my spirit. I lose my zest and become a winter sloth. By traveling, I'm able to allow the parts of my personality, that I'm proud of, to reemerge. It isn't so much that sunshine creates my level of happiness or state of mind. Rather, sunshine simply seems to call forth the enthusiasm, the friendliness, the brightness and the merriment that has gone dormant. My laughter, so elusive in the depths of both emotional and seasonal, winter, finds its way to the surface once again.

So, what inspires me about the west? My east coast friends cite reasons why I shouldn't like it...the crime rate, the smog and the traffic. The high cost of living. The surface level judgment. Yet, I miss my home state when I'm not there because of many simpler pleasures; going outside to pick an orange or an avocado off the tree. Being able to sit outside, with a good book, in February. Basking in the warmth most days of the year. The generally positive attitudes of people around me who are accustomed to paradise-like days. The fresh foods. The ability to go barefoot and put my toes in the sand. These funny little actions do an extraordinary amount of good in my drizzle covered soul.

I've come to realize that one of my life lessons is to cultivate eternal sunshine within me, regardless of my circumstances. I need to find a way to keep the gloomy, Eeyore days of February and March at bay in my heart. I must discover a path that allows me to bask in the warmth and glow, that the west brings out in me, wherever I am. I need to find the 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' and my laughter, even in the midst of darkness. Yoga can help me with this. By maintaining my practice and classes, I can cultivate positive 'light'. Additionally, even when it's cold and dreary, I need to find additional methods to brighten my day internally. The one way that appears to assist me the most is helping others...by volunteering, by encouraging those who are suffering and by making a difference in my community, I feel the sunshine welling up within me. Even if I can't change the weather, I can certainly be the sunshine for someone else....and in doing so, perhaps I'll bring that light to my own heart, as well.

Traveling Light

All of us have every day life lessons we hold dear from our parents. Many of us pay our bills, do our laundry or cook in the same methods our parents taught us, at least by example. I fold towels and make beds using the same technique as my mother. I wipe counters down in the same sweeping gestures, using a paper towel to catch the crumbs, the way my dad did. I have a filing method identical to theirs, though I have to admit that I'm not as meticulous in my administration skills. I answer the phone with the same cadence in my voice, and often use the same word choices they might have used. I have comparable sets of strengths and weaknesses. And yet, when it comes to packing a suitcase, I couldn't be 'less' their child. My mother and father had packing lightly down to a science. My father, never the most patient man when traveling and never one to waste time in any area of his life, insisted that they each bring one carry on bag to any destination. He was convinced that on no trip would anyone every need more than he could carry on a flight. Although Dad has since passed away, Mom continues in this admirable and simple packing method. I have never seen my mother look out of place, lacking in some way or otherwise unprepared on a journey. So, where did I go wrong?


I seem to have missed out on both the nature and nurture of this critical skill. However, my husband, though not a blood relation to my parents, seems to have inherited the trait. He teases me about the amount I will pack for one night away. I believe I have packed more for an overnight than he has packed for a week. Will he be less prepared than I am? Will he be missing a critical pair of shoes during his time away? It has yet to happen. I can fill a steamer trunk for a weekend away, and still not have exactly what I need, when I need it. I own one of the largest suitcases made, and have to be extremely careful as I pack it now, because of the new weight restrictions. I can easily stuff my Brontosaurus on wheels with shoes, skirts, sweaters, jewelry, back up shirts in case of spills (likely in my case) and outerwear to the point of bursting. I travel with a veritable pharmacy of allergy medicine, skin cream and Advil, never knowing what I will need when I need it. Knowing that I bring everything but the kitchen sink (though I admit I did pack the Quesadilla maker for a ski trip), I would be exceptionally well prepared for any eventuality. So, why is it that I have a suitcase full of everything, but nothing that works on my trips?


I have traveled to Arizona with the Winnebago bag filled to the point of worrying about the zipper busting open. On arrival, and for the remainder of my trip, I have worn clothes out of my mother's closet. I have gone to California to visit my cousin, confident that I would be right at home, and have needed her to run me to Macy's upon arrival. I have learned, by process of "What doesn't work" that I know exactly what I need to bring on a trip, and seem to gravitate towards packing the exact opposite. And yet, I'm working on my "travel survival without errors" artistry. My daughter, who has inherited the adroit equipment attribute, is teaching me. As I prepare for an upcoming week away, she is helping me put multiple, appropriate outfits together, using a minimal number of pieces. I'm learning that 'more' doesn't mean 'right', and that a suitcase filled with single wear pieces isn't helpful. I'm discovering that just because I own 28 pairs of shoes does mean that all 56 must travel with me like children. It's still very difficult for me to narrow down, make multi-tasking choices and be brutal in my assessment of needs. But, I'm trying to make a valiant effort to streamline this process to allow me to bring just one carry on bag. The reward at the end? No long wait at Carousel B, no missing luggage reports to fill out, and no more bruised shins from slamming the suitcase version of King Kong into my legs.


As I prepare for both my upcoming trip, as well as this blog piece, I realize how much of life is easier if we travel lightly. The more metaphorical baggage we insist on carrying along with us, the more weighed down we will be. As we tote our emotional loads, we become overwhelmed, exhausted and unprepared for the reality of our day's adventures, because we're so bogged down in the past. It's very difficult to let go of this baggage. For many of us, the burdens we bear are at the very heart of who we are. The pain in our lives, for good or bad, has shaped us into the people we are today. And yet, by continuing to drag that heavy, imaginary Samsonite case everywhere we go, we miss out on the chance to create new memories, experience different things and be open to new possibilities. We're so filled with the past, there is no room for the future.

My best advice is to find ways to let your heaviness of heart dissipate. Using meditation, prayer, exercise, journaling or just casting your cares on the wind, you can release them with full knowledge that you don't need carry them any longer. You can talk to friends, write articles or hike those troubles out. They're only weighing you down. They do not help you on your journey. They just take up space. Much like a suitcase filled with inappropriate clothing, a heart and mind packed with frustration, sorrow and bitterness will only make you feel worse about the way you travel through life.


As I attempt my vacation with just one carry on, I look ahead with a lightness in my heart and a spring in my step. Will I miss something? Probably. Will it be the end of the world? Absolutely not. I will learn to adjust and make do...and hopefully have a much easier time along the way.

Down by the riverside, I laid my burdens down, Now I'm traveling light, My spirit lifted high,I found my freedom now And I'm traveling light.... Billie Holliday

The County of the Pointed Firs

Years ago, I was at the beach with my friend, Kelley and all of our young children. We had a beautiful day for a picnic, and as the little ones scampered about our feet, picking up shells and sea glass (and too many small crabs for our comfort), Kelley and I had five minutes peace to talk about the books that had meant the most to us in our lives. Kelley's suggestion for a book she had loved was "The County of the Pointed Firs" by Sarah Orne Jewett. At the time, I was hooked on mystery novels, simply because solving a unexpected occurrence seemed to engage my brain more than playing play-doh with my toddlers. I picked up a copy of this novel, but it sat on my nightstand for years.


By the time my preschool addled mind was ready to engage in real literature once again, I remembered "The County of the Pointed Firs" and happily inhaled the story. The beautiful, moving, troubling and uplifting series of stories, linking the lives of Maine women in a remote, far northern town, "The County of Pointed Firs" described a Maine with which I'm unfamiliar. Living on the coast in a travel destination resort community, the Maine I experience daily, and the rural Maine of the late 19th century felt as they were two different places. The deprivation, the fear, the commitment to the land and the sacrifices of the women in this novel were as removed from my own life on the Maine coast, as life on another planet might be. I enjoyed this novel not only because of the exceptional narrative, but also because of the exquisite portrait painted of a specific place and time in Maine's history.

As I've reread this book many times, I was always struck by its description of a Maine of long ago. However, I have come to see that the Maine described in "The County of the Pointed Firs" is alive and well...and far to the north. My daughter was recently at a soccer camp in Presque Isle, Maine. This is nearly as far north as it's possible to go and still remain in the continental United States. My husband brought our daughter north, and I was scheduled to retrieve her when camp was over. Having never been north of Bangor, I had thought I'd been "north" as defined by my own landmarks. As comfortable as I am with driving to Boston or New York, the thought of traveling, for hundreds of miles, with nothing but woods around me was a little unsettling. I passed Bangor believing that I was leaving the gateway of civilization, as I knew it, behind me. I wasn't far from wrong.


For 2 hours of my five hour drive, I saw nothing but forest. The highway rolled on, and the cars became fewer. The miles ticked away and the small towns gave way to vast stretches of nothing but woods and streams. The villages themselves stopped having names. As I continued on my trek north, the roadside signs read notices like "Now Entering T-1 9-6". The hamlets were reduced to bearing numeric monikers. Although I've lived in Maine, off and on, for much of my life, I had never been this far away from the restaurants, shops, culture and people with which I was familiar. It felt as if I'd left this century altogether, and was entering a land forgotten by time completely. The magnitude of the sprawling ranges of pine trees and mountains was extraordinary. When I caught my first glimpse of Mt. Katahdin, I was overwhelmed. I felt exceptionally blessed to be at that very place, at that very moment.


As my drive continued, and I emerged on the far side side above the Maine North Woods, small towns began to take shape. They themselves look as they were living piece of history. Modern conveniences and amenities were nowhere to be seen: just hardworking farm families, eking out a living in an area that felt like no-man's land. Aroostook County doesn't feel like the more populated areas of Maine, but nor does it feel like Canada yet. The region contains its own stories, its own history and its own dynamic that is far different from the rest of New England. It struck me as being the very land, right out of Sarah Orne Jewett's "The County of the Pointed Firs", didn't feel as if it had changed bit since Jewett wrote the novel in the late 1800's.

My trip north was an inspiration. It showed me that hardy people can create thriving communities in harsh environments, but these people must depend upon each other in every way possible. It taught me that ways of life are still being preserved in our ever-shrinking global society. It humbled me to realize that there are people who would rather have peace and quiet and live off the land, than cable television and elegant restaurants. While I am honest enough with myself to know that this lifestyle is not within my comfort zone, the trip gave me a feeling of pride to live in such a state that embraces diversity of lifestyle choices. The thought of families keeping their land for generations, despite harsh winters and unpredictable summers, filled me with awe. It also made me understand that, despite living in the same state, the Maine in which I live, and "The County" are more complexly dissimilar than I had ever dreamed possible.

As I drove the long road home, I couldn't help but be reminded of Sarah Orne Jewett's words, "“In the life of each of us, there is a place as remote and islanded as the county, and that we choose to give to endless regret or secret happiness.'” I am filled with hope that I can choose happiness over regret. After seeing the tight knit communities to the north, I realize how much of who we are depends upon our choice of vision, and not of our own circumstances.

Vacation

What a wonderful word that is: Vacation. It evokes time away from routine to explore new cities, lie on breathtaking beaches, investigate new cultures or simply bring a break in routine. Vacations can give us a much needed respite from the doldrums of everyday existence. We can be someone else for a few little while, even if that someone else is simply a more relaxed version of ourselves. Or, we can try on a completely new persona: a carefree one, if we’re normally regimented or an adventurous one, if we’re normally cautious. We can slip out of our schedules and into letting the moment take us where it will. That said, if we tend to be more artistic and flexible, taking a tour in which our sightseeing is planned for us can also bring us a much needed sense of order, without having to be organized. In short: vacation is time to just restore, recharge and renew our internal batteries.

The key to a successful vacation is finding what works for you, and not trying too hard to 'work' at having fun. For me, being a natural sloth, my native environment is lying on deck chair, enjoying the fresh air, and simply allowing myself time off the hamster wheel of life. Because my state of relaxation is simply removing all stresses, I am very easy to please on my time of vacation: I simply need to take time to look inward, to rest and to feel at peace. My husband, on the other hand, is a natural explorer. He can lie by a pool with me for a day. But, his adventurous spirit gets bored easily. So, we have learned to find places that are relaxing for him, also: with mountains to climb, golf courses to conquer and interesting locales to to investigate. Restless spirits can be renewed and strengthened by seeing new places and expending energy. This doesn't mean that one hasn't relaxed. It's simply a different method of allowing one's brain to shift from technology to terrain.

Unfortunately, with the economy being in its current complex and scary state, many people are finding their vacations budgets have vanished and are investigating a new phenomenon: the "stay-cation". Using up vacation days at work doesn't mean only tackling cleaning out the basement. It can still provide you with a wonderful opportunity to explore your hometown and the neighboring region. I'm always amazed at the amount of incredible things to see and do in our hometown...and we never scratch the surface. We are so busy living our fast paced existence that we don't take the time to go hike in the state park, peruse the local museums or even pitch a tent to camp on the lawn. When we live in a community, we often have blinders on to all our towns and cities have to offer. So, why not turn off your phone (as you would on vacation out of town), have the post office hold your mail, and go exploring in your own backyard? You may find a wonderful vacation is waiting for you: at home.

As long as you commit to relaxation, whether you travel abroad, or stay put, finding ways to refresh and renew yourself can be endless. It can be extremely difficult, in our 'always plugged in' culture to let go. We can feel guilty, undeserving, or just afraid we'll miss a vital moment. But, the truth is, we all need to take to explore, to see new sights and to experience a break in routine. Let go of the guilt, of the yearning to check your email one more time, and of your need to control every moment. Just allow yourself the freedom to 'be'. You will find yourself more conscious in your decision making when you come back, and you will also appreciate your home even more.

Whether you head to a spa, a ski resort, or the big city, make sure that you don't just stop in at the same chain restaurants you would at home. Allow yourself the experience of soaking in local flavors, literally. During your staycation, why not try new recipes that will evoke thoughts of time in Mexico or Paris? You never know what will happen when you allow your taste buds to explore on vacation too. Most of all: relax. You deserve it.

Every man who possibly can should force himself to a holiday of a full month in a year, whether he feels like taking it or not. ~ William Joyce

On the road again !

I’m one of those crazy people who loves car trips. Since I’ve been taking car trips since I was a little girl, I can honestly say how much I can remember about each and every one of them. I remember leaving our house in New York at the beginning of every summer to drive to Maine. I remember getting the “hump” (or the middle seat) every year because I’m the youngest. I remember stopping at funky places along the way to eat. Some looked like giant cattle yards with oversized plastic cows out front. Others looked just like enormous pirate ships, stuck by the side of the road, with no ocean in sight. I also remember the fun of going to LL Bean in the middle of the night as a stopover. Most of all, I just remember the fun of setting out of the trip. Sure, we whined and pushed each other around in the backseat, but most of all, I remember all of us being excited to go on our trip. The break in the routine, and the joy of setting off on an journey, was something we looked forward to all year.

Obviously, now that I’m a mom and have children of my own, I’ve done my own fair share of car trips with them. With babies in car seats, I learned every changing table between Midcoast Maine to New York City. I learned where every family friendly rest stop was, and what great ‘kid activities’ places were on the drive. When we began traveling in different parts of the country, we learned in just a second, how to sum up the kids’ tolerance level…and if we could squeak just another hour or two in before we stopped. We have had some wonderful memories, listening to books on CD, talking and laughing, and even playing games in the car. Yes, we had times of the children taunting one another with “I’m not touching you”, holding a finger two inches away, and my own brilliant parenting retort of “No one touch anyone every again !”. But, for the most part, our trips were filled with the exhilaration of seeing new places and experiences new things.

Now that my children are in their teen years, our trips have given us more time for in depth discussions. Because my son plays hockey all over the Northeast, it’s given me time to get to know him all over again….who he is now, what his hopes and dreams are, and honestly, to listen to his opinions as a smart young man. It’s also given him pause, as a driver in his own right, to learn that his mom isn’t the best driver in the world. My daughter attends boarding school two states away, and while we miss her horribly, we have come to love the drives back and forth. My husband and I take turns having her all to ourselves. Those four hours in the car give each of us the most amazing quality time for in depth sharing, and a great deal of laughter.

Plane travel is a mode of transportation we have to use, given that half of our extended family lives on the West Coast. It involves long lines, angry people and a great deal of waiting around. It means taking off your shoes, being subjected to searches and lots of delays and lost luggage. We do like that we can go across country in 7 hours by plane. But, I think that plane travels loses something of the essence of a journey…the intimacy of it, and the ability to fully enjoy the trip. By car, there is no danger of lost luggage or an overbooked flight.

Long car trips aren’t without their drawbacks, of course. Stiff backs, aching muscles and too much fast food can wreak havoc on our bodies. One of the best twists in Yoga is the seated twist. This can relieve back pain and help to reset your spine. It can easily be modified to do in a chair (at a rest area) or even if your own car’s seat, when you’re not driving. Keeping both hands on the back of the seat, and bringing your torso to face the back, you will be able to alleviate all that tension very easily, by breathing into the twist, and doing the pose slowly. Of course, taking breaks to drink plenty of water, to eat healthy food, and to go for walks, are also simple ways to fight car trip fatigue.

So, pop in a great book on tape, or blast tunes from your favorite CD, and hop on the road. You never know what adventures will take place along the way.

Travel is more than seeing the sights. It is a change that goes on deep and permament, in the ideas of living. ~ Miriam Beard

Hakuna Matata, metaphorically speaking

The first Broadway show I took my children to see was the “Lion King”. Because they had seen the movie version, and they knew all the music, I thought that it would be much easier for them to sit through the theatrical production. We went to New York with our dearest friends, and bookending the children in between us, we were prepared for any eventuality of meltdown behavior. What happened was amazing! Our children, at the time 6 and 4, were mesmerized by the show. The sang along to “Hakuna Matata”, and they waived their toy Pumbas and Timons over their heads…like lighters at a rock concert. All in all, it was an extraordinary first Broadway for them.

One confusing thing that did happen was not to my children, but rather, to me. In the beginning of the 2nd act, trapeze artists were cavorting, twirling and swinging above the heads of the actors playing Simba and Nala. Lush green “stage” vines came from the ceiling and the acrobats flew through the airs on them, always in pairs. It simply didn’t fit with what I knew of the story. So, loudly whispering (despite my reminding my children to be quiet in the theater) to my friend, Debra, I said, “I don’t get it ! What are they doing ?”. Deb whispered back, just as loudly, “Love is in the air ! It’s a METAPHOR !” I’m sure we were on the receiving end up some ugly glances from the people behind us, but I was so shocked that I “missed” what was, quite literally, flying over my head.

How often in life do we miss something that’s right in front of our faces ? How many times does a deeper meaning just pass right over us ? How often do we simply not notice the details of other peoples’ lives ? How many times do we skip right over a person’s response, when we say “How are you ?” In Yoga, we choose to look deeper into life; in body, mind & spirit. We make a conscious effort to look beyond the surface meanings of an action, and move into the next level. We attempt to work through physical asanas, as we find the next layer of ourselves hidden beneath. In short, we’re looking for the metaphors in our lives. We hope and choose to discover what each symbol in our life choices has made for us, and looking back, we can reflect on the trail of breadcrumbs, metaphorically speaking, we have left behind. As we gain insight into our own understanding of ourselves, why we are the way we are, and who we could be, we can also grow in our understanding of others, especially those most dear to us. As we practice “Lion Pose”, we are called to look inward, as we release tension outwardly. This juxtaposition of gazing inward, and exhaling out, helps us to gain insight into our body/mind connection.

That isn’t to say that every comment a loved one makes is on multiple levels. Nothing annoys my husband and teenage son more than when I say “But, how do you REALLY feel ?”, when asking them about how an activity, a day or a game went. I understand that, at times, I do tend to look under rocks where there aren’t any. That is to say “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”, and sometimes “It was fine” is an appropriate answer. So, while digging under the surface is good, at the end of the day, we just have to remember Hakuna Matata…no worries….and open our eyes to see what we are meant to see. But, it's always good to look up and notice if love is in the air.

"Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it. " ~ Rafiki, from "The Lion King"

Life's a journey

Have you ever imagined just chucking your life as you know it, and taking off for the wide, open lanes to explore America ? With nothing but the wind at your back, and a devil may care attitude, just going, never knowing where you might end up that evening ? Honestly, I never had. I’m a planner. I like to know where I’m going, when I’m going to get there, and what my plan is for arrival. My mother, who is much the same way, once described this to me in this way, “We’re product people, not process people.” It was such a simple explanation for why I don’t enjoy the ride of the journey, but the destination.

I do love to travel. I am one of the few people who actually enjoys flying. Rather, I love being flown. It’s like a great big taxi. I’m even getting much more tolerant of long lines at the airport, always being singled out to look at my back extra closely (Seriously ? A mom from Maine ?), and don’t even mind waiting for my bags at Carousel 3.
So, what was it about “Queen of the Road: The True Tale of 47 states, 22,000 miles, 200 pairs of shoes, 2 cats, 1 poodle, a husband and a bus with a will all its own” by Doreen Orion that was incredibly appealing to me ? The author writes as I would speak. She hates camping, she hates hiking, she loves to live (and work !) in her pajamas, she’s an animal lover and she has cocktail recipes for every chapter. In short, she’s my kind of Jewish American Princess. Her unbelievably humorous take on this voyage is both internal and external: she describes her own personal transformation from her initial reaction of shock and horror to acceptance of honoring her husband’s dream. She then moves from grudgingly seeing the positive side of living on a bus for a year….she can wear her jammies all the time…to a deeper appreciation for her husband and truly “seeing” our country, not just ‘fly in, visit, and get out’ travel that I’m used to. The couples’ outrageous misadventures from a bus door, possessed by demons, swinging open at unsafe times to the bus’ high end overhaul’s amenities rarely working, makes for slapstick comedy, and a laugh out loud read. Doreen Orion is so funny, as I read the book sitting outside my son’s school for pick up time, I think the mothers walking by my car were sure I had multiple personalities. I could almost see them dialing 911 to say “There is a crazy mother in a tan SUV, who is laughing as everyone walks by her car. She needs help now. Send strong men in white coats !”.

Considering that I’m exceptionally claustrophobic, whine on even the shortest car rides and am all about the destination, why did this book make me consider wanting to do the very same feat as Doreen Orion and her husband ? I believe, partly, it was because I felt such a kinship to the author. Her own awakening to the journey being a destination, in itself, was appealing. I also thought it just sounded like fun. For the first time in my life, I wanted to throw the dogs and the killer bunny in an RV and go drive to Yellowstone, Mount Rushmore and Yosemite. I wanted to make sandwiches while Jeff drove the rig, and wear slippers all day. I wanted to see new places and feel that sense of freedom by not being tied to the never ending projects of our house. What I began dreaming about, while reading this book, was not the soul crushing drone of the highway, but liberation.

I began researching luxury RV’s and bus conversions. I never said I fantasized about roughing it, by the way. What I discovered was astounding ! Most of these vehicles are more well appointed than my house ! I envisioned pulling into a scenic drop off, stepping out of my cherry kitchen bus and practicing yoga with mountain views in the background. I thought of Jeff and me, now a full year into our 2nd decade of marriage, reconnecting with both children happily studying at their respective college and prep schools. I watched HGTV’s special on the three most extraordinary RV’s and literally drooled at the thought of the whirlpool bath and master suite “to go”. I imagined stopping off to see the kids, and never needing to book a hotel room again.
Of course, reality did set in. At well over $1 million for a “simple” luxury RV, and with both gas and Diesel prices at their highest level ever, this dream has had to remain one for the foreseeable future. But, just the experience of allowing my thoughts to “go there,” to imagine possibilities I never could have guess I’d be interested in, was wonderful exercise in freeing my mind. And, it did teach me two valuable lessons: never say never, and maybe the journey is worthwhile after all….as long as it comes with satellite TV.

My Yoga teacher message to each of you today is: "Don't think about what you won't do; think about new possibilities." It doesn't even matter if these possibilities come true. Opening our minds to new horizons (both literally and metaphorically) can be a lesson itself.