Alter Egos

The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes of mind. ~ William James

The use of an alter-ego has long been fuel for fiction, both literary and on film. Where would Batman be without Bruce Wayne? Where would Spiderman be without Peter Parker? Or, even Superman as Clark Kent? These superheroes would be mobbed, swarmed and be unable to function in society without their 'mild mannered' counterparts, masquerading as simple citizens. By having an alter-ego, living the 'normal' life, these superheroes are able to exist undetected by both friend and foe. They're able to listen to others, in the average world around them, and glean information that could prove incredibly helpful in their crime fighting efforts. They might have extraordinary powers, amazing gadgets and unique skill sets, but when it comes right down to the hard facts, being tapped into a social network has its benefits to their superhero lives.

One question has always haunted me, however: is it Superman who needs Clark Kent, or is it the other way around? When I honestly think about the fact of Superman just wanting to be a 'normal newspaper reporter', I have to smile. I imagine that Clark Kent would get awfully bored not being able to fly, not allowing himself to soar high above ground. I would be so bold as to allow myself to think that Clark Kent would not make it without Superman....and that he needs his superhero side to shine. After all...how many people really like Clark Kent just for being the 'nice guy'? Not many. I would imagine that, whatever his protests to the contrary, Clark Kent likes being Superman. He needs to be Superman. It fulfills the essential part of who he's missing. The heroic, well loved, popular, successful part of the man he wants to be *is* Superman.

A film I would have missed entirely, had I not been the mother of a 17 year old son, is "Fight Club", starring Brad Pitt and Edward Norton. This movie is an amazingly complex story, containing twists and turns I never could have predicted. Edward Norton's character is much like the stereotypical "Clark Kent". He's nobody memorable. He lives a dull, meaningless life and has trouble making connections with people. And yet, he meets (or rather, creates) his alter ego, played by Brad Pitt, and he befriends his other self. Where Edward Norton is soft spoken, predictable, conformist and yuppie, Brad Pitt's side of him is brash, bohemian, dangerous and free thinking. The essential aspect of this movie, the piece I found so compelling, was that the alter ego is viewed as a clearly different personification. In a brilliant bit of storytelling writer Chuck Palahniuk creates two distinct lives; both belonging to the same person. This defining difference is clearly what delineates the character of "Tyler Durden" from his fellow alter ego literary figures: Tyler Durden does not realize he is, or has, an alter ego. As Tyler Durden comes to the realization that he is living the lives of two exceptionally different men, he says, in one of my favorite quotes from the film, "People do it everyday, they talk to themselves... they see themselves as they'd like to be, they don't have the courage you have, to just run with it."

The idea of having an alter ego is one that many of us have had from time to time. When I was growing up, I wanted to be Samantha from "Bewitched". I wanted to be able to twitch my nose to cast a spell to solve problems, just as she did. I imagined myself living in a beautiful home, having adorable children, but knowing that, at any moment, I could give my nose a twitch, and have an elegant meal prepared. (I never understood Darren's hatred of Samantha's magic, but that's fuel for another post). Although I can't live as a suburban mother, with a hidden talent, as Samantha did, I do find that being able to write as the Preppy Yogini does give me a hint of what that feeling must be like...to a very small extent. Writing has been my creative outlet, my homage to the people who are far more intelligent and inventive than I am. It has given me my other world to explore....that can grow above my mundane life as a mom and a yoga teacher. I will never be Superman. I will never be Tyler Durden, with an entire separate being living a fantasy life of which I could only imagine. But, I can write hoping to become the embodiment of the traits I most admire.

I understand I will never fly like Superman, twitch my nose like Samantha, or create an entirely separate existence for myself, but I can attempt to be more creative, more inspiring and more thoughtful. I can hope to be kinder, gentler and more patient. By writing, both my blogs and in my fiction work, I'm able to work through all my own short comings, and hopefully, succeed more fully as a human being. If I can write it, I can attempt to be it.

Changing Perspective

There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year's course. Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word 'happy' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. ~ Carl Jung


There were very few lessons I taught, as a traditional classroom teacher, that were more popular as my unit study on optical illusions. Every picture looks different depending upon the view on takes. If one focuses on the white area in the illusion to the right, you will see a goblet. If the focus shifts to the black, the eye detects mirror images of faces in silhouette form. The children clamored to see both sides of the images projected. Their hands would rise up with glee, "Mrs. Stanclift! I can see them both!", bursting with pride that their eyes could focus on two separate images, all within one picture. Many of us have seen them over the years, not only in 3rd grade class assignments, but on tote bags, note cards and book covers. These exercises are wonderful for training the brain not to only see what our eyes tell our mind at first glance: we must also train them to look for something deeper...something from a different perspective.


As much as I tried, there were always students could consistently only visualize one image...and simply were not willing, or able, to deviate from that picture. As much as I'd have "Susie" or "Johnny" really focus on their efforts on seeing only the the white, calling it forward and asking the opposite color to recede, they simply were not comfortable letting go of their way of looking at the optical illusions. I'll never forget one of my students, "Maggie". Maggie liked to do everything right. She was my wonderful helper when it came time to pass out papers and was always the ideal of organization in both her desk and cubby. Her shoes were always lined up perfectly and her attendance chart showed an unbroken row of glistening, tinsel stars. But, when our optical illusion unit began, Maggie remained unchanged in her ability to only see the faces, never the goblet. When we worked on this, she told me, sadly, "I'm afraid that if I look for the goblet, I'll never see the faces anymore." Maggie's hesitation had less to do with her visual skills, than her fear of letting go of what was known and comfortable to her.


Great literature often takes the role of optical illusion to the realm of storytelling. As an avid, passionate, and voracious reader, I love books that challenge my beliefs and perspectives as I read a story. I enjoy being teased in one certain direction, only to find that the true depth of the story lies in much deeper layers than it appears on the surface. Two classic tales that personify this method, by drawing the reader in, bit by bit, as if winding in a timid kitten with a ball of yarn, slowly and methodically, are undoubtedly "The Sound & The Fury" by William Faulkner and "The Alexandria Quartet" by Laurence Durrell. Although both writers express and explore this dynamic in separate ways, these classics represent writers who were willing to take a risk and experiment with storytelling, using the perspectives of each character to keep the reader learning more. Just when the reader becomes compliant with her belief in the way events have unfolded, the writer changes perspective and style, keeping us on our toes, and making certain that we look deeply for the metaphorical goblet, letting go of the image of two faces.



A contemporary writer, whom I deeply admire and am proud to call a friend, is Dan Domench. His most recent audio book is both flawlessly and breathtakingly performed, and his literary style of exploring character perspective is refreshing and unique. Using a series of linked short stories, all read by extraordinary actors, Domench is able to draw further into the world he has created in rural Maine. Each character looks to an event with a different motivation and therefore, sees the stories unfold as they touch his, or her, life. And yet, without the background, ideas, opinion and mood of the various storytellers, we would be without a complete grasp of just how the climax of the book unfolds. It's a masterful achievement by a wonderful writer, but it's also deeply compelling. "Wayside Cross" should be held up as an example of alternative storytelling, not only for its highly entertaining prose, but also for its fluid narrative creating an entire realm of being, without narration....only by characterization. Yet, without being open to hearing the voices of each character speak, and allowing their own stories to educate us, we would never become aware of the full picture.

How often in life do we hold fast to a way of looking at the world because it's the perspective we've always held? How often are we told, at work or in life, "we do it this way because that's the way it's always been done"? And yet, by shifting our perspective to truly listen to someone else point of view, ideas, thoughts or concerns we may find our world rocked for the better. I used to be extremely certain of both myself, and my place in the world. And yet, I find that as I open myself to listen, just listen, to what an opposing point of view might be, my knowledge is expanded and my understanding increases. Does this mean I always change mind about a life issue, way of doing a task or moral dilemma? Not necessarily. There are times I'm deeply moved by hearing another person's point of view, even if I'm still disinclined to agree. Opening our ears and our minds to another standpoint does not mean our own points of views must waver with each word we hear. Rather, these differing opinions can help us shore up where we stand on an issue. Only listening to those who agree with us is not beneficial for lifelong education. As Abraham Lincoln once said, "We learn more from our adversaries than from our friends."

So, challenge the way you read, the way you listen and the way you think. You may well find that your beliefs hold fast. You may find your curiosity is peaked. You may also discover that you allow yourself to be open to an entirely new way of exploring the world around you. However, it's still okay if you only see the two faced silhouette. The Earth won't cease in its rotation if you simply are comfortable seeing the world one way. Life is an invitation, not a command.

Imagination

"Imagination is more important than knowledge". ~ Albert Einstein

I have a vivid imagination. As a child, I would often have one foot in my imaginary world, and another in reality. I never felt fully present in both, except in my dreams, in which I could soar. My imagination allowed me to climb the Himalayas with a Sherpa as my guide, magically stumbling across Shangri-La, hidden in a secret valley that only I could discover. I could cross the open prairie, traveling through tall, waving grasses, in a Conestoga wagon. I remember making my own covered wagon with pillows and blankets and being able to feel each dip and jostle on the well worn path west. I could imagine myself to be a lady in waiting in the court of Queen Elizabeth, bowing to her Majesty and wearing gowns of brocade, silk and pearls. In my thoughts, I was a Chinese girl, working in the rice fields, an Ancient Egyptian, feeling the heat off the baked mud walls of the low buildings in the marketplace or a Russian girl, living a "Fiddler on the Roof" existence of musical joy, mixed with fear of the cossacks. I attended a progressive Montessori school, and was allowed to finish my math quickly in order to hide myself in the window seat of the library, and lose myself in books about young women from long ago. This practice both fed my insatiable curiosity for the words to describe the actual world around me, and also gave me more secret windows in which to enter another, hidden world.

Albert Einstein once wrote: "Imagination is more important than knowledge." I heartily agree. Without imagination, there would be no progress. There would be conformity, uniformity and one method of thinking that leaves no room for improvement. There would no light, no electricity, no indoor plumbing, no printing presses, no cars, no structurally sound buildings, no heat, other than fires. There would be no irrigation, to bring water to feed crops and there would be widespread famine. There would be no understanding in medicine, and extraordinary strides to save lives. Diseases like Smallpox and Polio would still leave mothers in fear for their babies. The Plague would still run rampant and populations would be devastated. Creative thought has enabled civilization to communicate more effectively, remain healthier and to travel much further in shorter periods of time.

However, with creativity comes responsibility. Just because we have active imaginations doesn't mean we must always enact each and every idea that crosses our train of thought. Overactive imaginations have also led civilizations astray. Would there have been slavery, had it not been for the imagination for those who believed they were *better* than those they had enslaved? Would there have been witch trials and the Inquisition, had it not been for people's imaginations run amok? Just because we can imagine something that seems fantastical, does it make it a real and accurate possibility? Therein lies the great philosophical question of all the ages.

In Yoga, we explore imagination balanced with controlling our thoughts. The most challenging aspect of learning to become a Yogini for me were not the physical "asanas", or poses. I quickly learned how to practice Sun Salutations, Tree Pose, Shoulder Stand and the entire Warrior series. I marveled at how quickly my body was becoming stronger, more toned and more flexible. A lifelong Klutz, known to all as being able to trip over my own feet for no reason, I gained confidence in my ability to control my body. I fell down stairs less often and had fewer experiences of hitting myself in the head every time I closed the rear hatch of my car. This alone was a minor miracle! And yet, when it came time to control my thoughts, even as happy daydreams, the skill alluded me. During times of meditation and relaxation, I experienced what the Indian Yogis refer to as "Monkey Mind": my thoughts skipping from tree to tree, branch to branch, never alighting on any one place for long. The class around would be peacefully focused on nothing but the breath, and I would be experiencing the hyperactive Chihuahua thought sensation of "What if I go to the market before I go home? Do I have enough money to pay bills today? What if Josh doesn't pass his English test? What if Caroline doesn't get the part she wants in The Nutcracker? Do the dogs need to go to the vet for their ear infections? Do I look fat today? Do at least my thighs look fat? Did I return the movies? How much laundry has piled up? Seriously, am I fatter than that woman in the corner wearing blue?"

Thankfully, I had a wonderful master teacher. She helped me to use my restless and "bouncing Golden Retriever chasing ball" imagination to help conjure images that I could then control...thereby, controlling my thoughts. The technique she helped me to employ was that of carriage driver with four horses. My imagination was traveling in so many different directions at once, that the use of four separate horses gave me the ability to see each train of thought in those different directions those thoughts wanted to veer off the course. As the carriage driver, it was my job to keep an eye on those horses. I needed to be aware of where they each wanted to go, to understand their choice of direction, and yet, when the time was right, to have the secure ability to rein each one in separately. If Horse A wanted to go to the left, and Horse C wanted to turn off to the right, it was my mind's job to keep them heading straight where I chose for them to go and not off course. Perhaps Horse B was nervous and just wanted to turn around and backtrack, and Horse D just felt bored and wanted to race ahead, far in the future at full gallop. Then, I needed to slow my breath and reiterate the slow, steady, calm and direct pace in the correct direction, at the correct speed.

This mental game, or technique, allowed me to gain mastery over my thoughts, but did not kill my individualism or creativity. It simply allowed me to have use of a tool to know where and when to be creative, and where and when to focus my thoughts sharply on one thing: being at peace. Did this hurt my imagination or creative process when I did call upon it? Quite the opposite. I have found that my imagination can be called up more fully and more clearly at my command. I still have moments of random sparks of creativity, and I still daydream. However, I also have the ability now to use this technique at my disposal to ask "Horse A...where would you like to go today?" when working on a creative assignment. I find myself being taken on a wonderful journey, but on my command. Rather than kill my imaginative instinctive process, yoga has given me a way to to focus it and utilize it far more effectively. I have been able to squeeze the metaphorical creative juices out of the bottom of the tube, rather than just skimming off the top, and completely changing directions. It's been a fascinating, and energizing, skill sharpening exercise.

So, as an immense fan of imagination, I encourage all to explore this side of your personalities. Write! Draw! Paint! Play music! Sing! Dream! But, be the master of your carriage, and allow it to take you where you decide, all the while knowing that you can steer your chariot in whichever direction you choose.

"Time and Tide wait for no one...."

"Time and Tide wait for no man..." -- Robert Frost

Three of my good friends are both in the midst of dealing with the ramification of having parents in different stages of Alzheimer's or dementia. Their stories are heartbreaking, loving, frustrating and angst ridden. It is a journey many of us will take, and yet none of us are prepared for. Even as adults, we look to our parents for guidance. I don't know how I would have survived my early years of marriage, parenthood and beyond without my mother's wisdom, advice, insight and suggestions. In my own life, I've come to admire my mother more and more as time has gone on. I have appreciated her battles against the trials and difficulties in her own life, and used these as examples of how to face my own challenges. I have consulted her on almost every step on my life path. She has been my cheerleader, my confessor, my greatest fan and my admonisher. I trust her opinion in all things above everyone else.

How does one reconcile the strong, courageous and all knowing parent of our childhood and our young adulthood, with the parent who becomes angry, belligerent and even vicious? My friends are facing this very question right now. When does one step in, and assume legal control over one's parent? It's a double edged sword: if one steps in too soon and involves doctors and lawyers, one risks losing the love and respect of her parent. And yet, if one waits too long, one runs the risk of the parent becoming a danger to herself or others, particularly if she is still driving. One also runs the risk of the parent making very poor decisions or failing to take care of the very basics of life and health. When is it the 'right time' to step in and say "Dad, I love you but you can't do this anymore"? I wish I had an answer to this question. I'm afraid that it's difficult for everyone involved...the parents themselves, who see their independence and their very lives being removed, and the children, who are now setting themselves in the place of becoming a parent to their own mothers and fathers.

My family experienced this with my Grandmother. My mother watched her own mother's decline with sorrow, anger, devastation and profound frustration. Grandma would have excellent days in which she would make perfect sense to everyone who spoke with her. She would be lucid, articulate and intelligent. Grandma would seem completely in charge of her own life, her own affairs and her own well being. The next day, or even the next hour, she would become paranoid, bitter and hostile. She would become accusatory and challenge everything meant for her well being. It was both painful, and frustrating, because we never knew whether we'd have "Real Grandma" or "Other Grandma". My mother watched her beautiful, successful mother leave the house to go food shopping at Safeway, which was less than five minutes from Grandma's home...and become lost and end up on the complete other side of time.

A wonderful novel that tackles the issue of Alzheimer's in a beautiful, moving way is "Still Alice" by Lisa Genova. Rarely can a work of fiction create a story in which the characters are achingly real, and still incredibly informative. This book, which I recommend highly to everyone, shows every side of the Alzheimer's, and explores each point of view. "Still Alice" does not skimp on storytelling ability. It is a powerful, moving and captivating novel. And yet, I found myself better informed and more knowledgeable about Alzheimer's than I had been...even after my experience with Grandma. I only wish that I had been able to read "Still Alice" in the years before Grandma passed away. It taught me a great deal about the process, about love and about dignity.

One of the ways in which I believe people can help shield their positive memories of their loved ones with dementia is by not neglecting those memories. It's extremely easy to begin to lose sight of the "real" parent (or grandparent) who is angry, who is mean spirited and who may not remember you. My own wish, from our time with my grandmother, is that I'd kept alive more memories of her wonderful years while she was ill. I wish I remembered more about my own playhouse in her garden on Russian Hill. I had forgotten about her taking my cousins and me out for ice cream at Swenson's, in San Francisco, instead of feeding us dinner. I had forgotten how she gave me my own easel for painting right next to hers, and how she bound my first little books of creative writing. I mislaid the memories of her teaching me everything from art to articulation, and of her being my such an enormous part of my growing up. Those memories were overwritten by the hostile woman who was unkind to my son, without remorse. Now that she's no longer with us, I find the joyful times creeping back into my thought patterns, and I am filled with sadness that I couldn't reconcile these two people as 'one'. And yet, I do hope that she knows, somehow, that I love her and will never forget her true self.

Homeward Bound

Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room. ~Harriet Beecher Stowe


My daughter, Caroline, just completed her freshman year away at school. As we began the arduous task of loading up my car, we realized she had doubled the amount of 'stuff' she'd accumulated during her first year of school in Massachusetts. As cramped as my car was on the drive south this past August, it was even more complicated trying to fit in every bag, every item, and all her new belongings. Caroline had acquired two milk crates filled with books, a shelving unit holding even more, and lots of new furnishings. She had received projects, awards, different types of recognition and been part of many photographs. In short: we weren't loading up the car, trudging up and down two flights of stairs, and then back across the green simply with accumulated junk...we were loading up her first year of memories. With every bag, with each book, with every parcel, there was a story. Each new item contained a memory of her freshman year. Caroline remembered which she skirt she wore to her first day of class, the pair of shoes she wore giving her first Biology presentation and each athletic award's significance. Her mug reminded her of getting tea with her dorm mates, her pillows were ones that matched her with wonderful roommate and her books either evoked wonderful, or dreadful memories of particular classes. It was a cluttered car, but that car was filled with conversations to have on our way home, and then even more as we began to unload and put things away.


As proud as I am of Caroline's success during her first year away, I am thrilled to have her home again...and for all her independent spirit, she's very glad to be home too. Despite the fact that many freshmen feel a sense of disassociation when they complete their first year and arrive back at their homes, Caroline expressed an exuberant joy and loving her school, but loving being back in her own room...with all its childhood memories. She realized that she didn't need to be a leadership role model, at the top of her game (academically or athletically) or even particularly mature. She was able to just be herself again...her persona that she kept tucked in her back pocket while she was at school. Caroline was able to be a daughter and a sister once again....and to enjoy mingling her school things with the memories of her growing up.


Home can be a wonderful place to which to return. As proud as we can be of our accomplishments out in 'the big world', who are innately, our strengths, as well as our weaknesses, can be let free. There are times and places in our adults lives, and especially in the lives of young adults, that we must adopt and enact a vision of our ideal selves. These ideal selves are often more articulate, more well read, more coordinated and better prepared than we truly feel. Our inner selves can feel out of our element, confused, inferior and unworthy. But, when faced with a challenge, we often rise to the occasion by projecting all the qualities we wish to possess. As we become more comfortable in each new situation, and as we face each obstacle, we may well gain confidence in these new abilities. And yet, there are times in which these personality traits we have "tried on", as we would try on a new coat, feel heavy and burdensome. When we come home, we can peel off that overweight layer at the door, and leave it there...choosing either to pick it up, or not, when we leave.



In Yoga, in the beginning of each class I teach, we take a few moments to leave our personalities, egos, preconceived notions and outside worries outside the door. I encourage my students not only to mentally relax, but to physically let go of those areas of competition in our hearts that are holding us back from truly realizing our authentic selves. One way to accomplish this is to practice the "Breath of Joy". This exercise is a three part breath, with the exhalation allowing the yogini to completely release. Not long ago, one of my students shared me how much this small part of our practice meant to her. In her own words, she told me that the "Breath of Joy" felt as she was "coming home after a long, hard trip". This description made me feel exceptionally pleased because that is the asana's full intention: a sense of letting go, and coming back to that inner place in which we feel completely ourselves.

My wish for my children is that, as they grow up and move on with their lives, they always know that their father and I will always be their touchstone...their home base, their place of comfort and familiarity. But, for many of us, our childhood homes no longer exist. Either our parents are no longer with us, or they have moved to a different place. We are incredibly fortunate, however: we carry the blueprint for creating our sense of home within our very nature. We can find time, space, and intention each day to slug off those burdens we carry, check in with our true being. Sometimes it may just finding a quiet place to breathe and clear our minds. It may also be writing, painting or in some other creative outlet. For still others, it may be going for a run to engage our physical being down its essence. However we can tap into that sense of 'home', it has the ability to give us time with who we really are. It can also give us a gift of appreciation of all that we are able to accomplish, and the lessons we have learned along the way.

I encourage you to begin a pilgrimage: find your way home. That may be a place to visit...or it may be a journey inside your own heart. Either way, you may find yourself enriched and relaxed.

Memorial Day

The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example. ~Benjamin Disraeli


The last Monday in May brings with it Memorial Day...the day set aside to honor those Americans who gave their life in battle. For some of us, this holiday will feature parades of Little League teams, fireworks, floats, marching bands and spoken tributes. We might have backyard barbeque's or a day at the beach. For others, the day will be felt as a personal day of loss, remembering a husband, a brother, a sister, a wife, a son or a friend who was killed in the line of duty. For these families, Memorial Day will not mean a day off from school, a chance to try out new water skis or an excuse to break out the grill. It will not be about kicking off the summer season. Memorial Day will be a time set aside to remember their precious one, whose life was cut short far away. There is a dichotomy to Memorial Day that many people ignore. For those who have lost beloved family members, it feels awkward, and even distasteful, to celebrate. For those who have not, it feels a little unsettling to grasp that this day is about far more than a bank holiday.


I believe that Memorial Day has the potential to be both a day of jovial welcome to the summer season, as well as a time to honor the fallen heroes. Even if you haven't lost a soldier in your own family, it bears remembering that there are families in your own community that have been touched by war. Afghanistan and Iraq are both still very much war zones. Ours is a nation at war right now, at this very moment. Simply because one hasn't lost a brother in the fighting outside of Mosul ,doesn't mean we are unaffected by the ongoing hostilities. I can sadly promise that many of us know people who have lost someone, or who has someone currently serving. One of the kindest ways I believe we can reach out to the families of service people right now, is by not ignoring them. Because these wars have been ongoing and unpopular, there has been a tendency to look the other way at the families left here in the States. As a former Army wife, myself, I remember the long months of the First Gulf War, and living in Germany at the time. There were plenty of times I wanted to listen by the radio (as we didn't have Armed Forces television at our house in the countryside off post). But, there were other times, I would have loved to have been invited out....to have been invited to a party or a cookout to celebrate our courage and thankfulness. Yet, during times of trouble, people often like to keep their distance.


Our family was truly blessed. My husband's unit was fine, and although it was disbanded during the time of the first Gulf War, we were fortunate to have a strong sense of community among other military families. With our husbands away, many of the women in the wives' groups had rotating dinners at one another's houses, planned outings and just generally used one another in the buddy system to keep tabs on our well being. This was one of the advantages to being abroad already: we had a built in support system in place.


Yet, for many current military families, their husbands and wives have been called into active duty from the reserves, and therefore tend to live in their own houses, in their own neighborhoods, rather than in military communities. Because of this, many families can feel invisible. Even if a woman hasn't lost her husband at war, not seeing him for 18 months can feel like a lifetime, particularly if she has children. I've heard a military spouse of a deployed Army officer say that she feels as if she carries a highly contagious disease: people feel badly but prefer to wave from a distance...as if her 'bad luck' could possibly rub off on them. She doesn't know if her neighbors ignore her because they disagree with the war, if they think she must already have support or because they simply don't know what to say. While her husband is in Afghanistan, all my friend would like is to be treated normally, and included just as she would have been before.


It's my wish that we find ways to honor our military: the fallen heroes, those currently called away in service, and those heroes left at home. The quiet hero is the mom who tells her children bedtime stories about things their Daddy loved to do with them, even if the children can't remember going to the zoo together. The hero at home is the father balancing his work and his children who miss their mom so much, they cry at night. They don't understand why she's not a nurse at the hospital up the street anymore, but has to be a nurse on the other side of the world. The hero at home is the grandmother, raising her grandson to be proud of his parents, who are in two different places far away. The quiet hero finds ways to keep the pieces of the puzzle together when the edges are all missing.


There is a Greek proverb that says "In hospitality, the chief thing is good will." I urge my readers to take a few minutes and cultivate that good will. Think of ways to be inclusive to the widow who is remembering a beloved husband, killed in action 30 years ago. Try to put yourself in the shoes of the haggard dad, busy with his job and the responsibilities his wife used to take on ,before she left for active duty. Find ways to be there for the little ones who just need to laugh while running through a sprinkler. Bake a pie, and have a cup of tea, with a woman whose son is in an area currently under attack. Investigate programs to write to soldiers who have no one else to communicate with them. Good will, the intention of cultivating the best for others, should be at the forefront of our Memorial Day.


By all means, grill those hamburgers, and spend the day on the lake. Wave flags at the parade and eat ice cream from a cart. But, remember the people who have given their lives for this country...and those who are still giving of their lives every day. Then, step out of your comfort zone and enact that good will.

Bathtime Reflections...

"Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a warm bath and a glass of wine." ~ Saint Thomas Aquinas

There are few things in life that are more rejuvenating to me than a hot bath at the end of the day. The process of drawing the bath, choosing the aromatherapy scents for the evening, and just taking a moment to wind down can be incredibly therapeutic. I've learned that on days in which I'm particularly anxious or worried, a bath using Lavender, Jasmine or Rose oils can help me to fully relax, let go of the day's concerns and prepare for sleep. When I am overtired, and need a boost of energy, a bath containing Ginger, Peppermint or Lemon can leave me feeling refreshed, renewed and invigorated. During times that I have a cold or feel the aches of illness coming on, Eucalyptus, Hyssop and Basil have worked wonders. My time in the bath gives me those moments to reconnect body, mind and spirit. A warm bath can give one a sense of being reborn, and to step out of the tub with a renewed sense of purpose.

When my children were small, I remember bathtime having the same type of balancing effect on their personalities. Because I was blessed with two children barely two years apart, our home was a fairly chaotic one in the early years of their lives. They were precious playmates, building secret clubhouse forts with blankets and pillows. They were also adversaries, knocking over Lego creation masterpieces that the other sibling had built. They were the best of friends. They were the most bitter of foes. And yet, at the end of the day, no matter how angry my daughter might have been at having Barbie's pink VW Bug co-opted for a GI Joe battle, when the children got into the tub, began playing with boats and making 'potions' with bubbles and bowls, they were once again, peacefully united. I could always count on the fact that crying, hectic afternoons would morph into joyful, laughing evenings, thanks to bath time. The healing power of the warm bath became my safe haven, not only for my own use, but as a tired mother, who needed her children to find themselves refreshed.

Baths are far from a modern convenience. The healing power of warm water is universally accepted and lauded. Nearly every culture appreciated and cultivated the idea of bath time as being more than just a way to wash off the dirt. The Romans were masters of the bath. When we were in Italy, some of the most stunning examples of architecture we saw were those of the extraordinary Roman bath houses. These weren't place to pop in and out of for a quick cleaning. Rather, they were a social environment, as much as a healing one. The Romans created vast aqua duct and pipe systems to bring in fresh water, and heat it...decades before the modern, at home bathroom was ever conceived. Bath houses were places of commerce, places of connection, and places of time spent renewing oneself. There were bath houses for men, for women, for different social classes, and for different groups of people. But, all were treated to this vital, and positive, aspect of Roman life.

Is it any wonder that we, as human beings, find emerging from warm water to be an almost metaphysical experience? We emerge from the warm waters of our birth, and both history, mythology and religious traditions literally ooze warm water. The Greek goddess, Aphrodite, is said to have been born of the sea. In Judaism, a female convert must submerge in a Mikveh (a blessed, clean pool of water). For Orthodox Jews, women return to the Mikveh monthly as a symbol of cleanliness and renewal. Christians are 'born' by the water of baptism, as Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan. Muslims believe in the ritual cleansing with water, and that water is available at mosques before one may enter. Many Native American cultures used sweat lodges are a form of bath house, designed to purify the body from the inside out. The sweat lodge was a way to call forth visions, to remove all impure waters from the body, and was 'closed' by a dunk in a nearby river or lake.

For the majority of us, our evening ablutions have less to do with religion, and far more to do with unwinding. Our baths can help us feel refreshed after a day filled with activity. But, there is no reason to make our baths yet one more item to add to our "to do" list. By setting your intention for your bath to be a time of restoration, you can create your own personal sanctuary. In the fascinating film "What the bleep do we know?!", the writers suggest that our very words can change our realities, and our perspective. In one fascinating scene, a woman writes the words "Thank you" in the bottom of her bathtub. As she soaks, the woman is filled with a perspective of gratitude and well being. Whether or not our written or spoken words can physically change our state of mind, this exercise is an interesting object lesson. Our baths can, mentally and physically, improve our outlook, our health and, at the very least, our evening. Even if the manifestation of "thank you" is figurative, rather than literal, isn't it much nicer to focus our thoughts on gratitude for our lives, rather than the idiot who cut us off in rush hour traffic?

So, create your own reality by creating a special bath...fill it with warm water, a scent you can inhale with joy, and peaceful music. Author your own time of grace as you soak, and allow the craziness of your day to melt away. Even if you do not find yourself changed into a completely new being, perhaps just reconnecting with your calm inner being, can be change enough.