Because: A love letter to my children

When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts.  A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.  ~Sophia Loren

Because: A Love Letter to My Children

In the past year, my children, now in their late teens, began very seriously understanding their future potential. As their mother, I had always seen the gifts that lay deep inside them as individuals. I also saw the incredible strength they have together, as siblings so close in age. The joke in our household as always been: they are twins, just born two years apart. They each possess a powerful work ethic, an amazing sense of purpose  and a fully defined view of self. They also are endowed gifts that are the opposite of one another.  I respect their individuality. I love them fiercely. I am a Mama Wolf, and they are my cubs. I would do anything to protect them, to encourage them and to help them achieve their dreams. 

And yet, both children, at different times, have expressed a regret that I didn't "push" them more. As my son and daughter ventured out into the world without me, they saw the credentials that other kids have to be at the top of their 'pools'. My daughter wishes that I had not encouraged her to sail, swim, and work each summer. She has expressed a regret that she didn't, like so many kids, go to SAT camp the whole time. She now feels that she'd have gladly given up our Spring vacations to take AP exam cram session courses.

My son, however, feels he did just fine in school and is content with that piece of his life. He wishes, however, that I hadn't encouraged him to golf in the summers, and play soccer and baseball each Fall and Spring. He wishes that I'd enrolled him in intensive skating clinics and that he'd been tutored so that he could have spent as many waking moments as possible on the ice. He wishes that he hadn't wasted so much time with other activities...wondering where he'd be now in his hockey career if he'd had no other distractions.

My daughter is a wonderful student. My son is a fantastic hockey player. Perhaps they aren't exactly where they had envisioned themselves at this point. My daughter isn't yet the youngest woman to ever receive the Nobel Prize for Biology. My son hasn't yet been drafted to play Center for the Boston Bruins. They are working towards their goals, and I honor their ambitions. 

Therefore: this note is to them, my Sun and Moon.

Because I love you, I not only let you have mud fights, I brought out the hose. I let you get as dirty as you possibly could and never once worried about bringing dirt into the house.

Because I love you, I let you stage dramatic battles between G.I. Joe and Barbie, even if it meant finding tiny pieces of plastic ammunition for months afterwards.

Because I love you, I let you bring a bunny into the house without my consent...and promptly fell in love with her because you did.

Because I love you, my heart broke the first time yours did. I cried with you, both on the inside and on the out. I kept a prayer in my heart that you would continue to fall in love, and love would find you right back.

Because I love you, I cheered loudly at sporting events, even when I had no clue what was going on, or who was winning.

Because I love you, I let you wear your pajamas inside out the night before snow was predicted and then danced along with you when our district was announced for a snow day.

Because I love you, I snuggled with you and watched The Lion King (over and over) with you like on rainy days.

Because I love you, I let you just be kids...kids who built forts, who made sand castles, had sleepovers, roasted marshmallows. I wanted you to be kids who'd learn to water ski in summer and snow ski in winter. I let you camp in the back yard, build a tree house with your Daddy and made you picnic lunches to eat 'in the great outdoors'. 

Because I love you, I've encouraged you. I've subtly pushed you out of your comfort zones. You may not have noticed, but I love you enough to just helpfully spread your wings ever so slightly. And when it was time for you to fly? You just didn't realize your wings hadn't always been opened a bit...making the transition to fly that much smoother. 

Because I love you, I am not just encouraging you to continue on your journey. I'm encouraging you to soar.

Because I love you, I am confident that you gained strength from just being normal, happy, laughing, playing kids. And, now I'm confident that  you will be amazing adults. 

In fact, you are already are. And I love you.

And all shall be well...

For a number of years, I've written a blog called The Preppy Yogini. Bits and pieces of this blog have made their way into various yoga and book circles. I feel incredibly fortunate to have had The Preppy Yogini be so well received. It's been a lifeline for me in many ways. I've met some incredible people through The Preppy Yogini and it has opened doors for me in ways I never could have imagined. 


And yet, as I wrote in a piece called The Bohemian Sloth, I've felt myself stepping away from my Preppy Yogini persona. I've spent the past 15 months battling cancer, and its physical aftermath, for the second time. No longer am I a yoga instructor. No longer am I particularly preppy. It's been a time of great changes in my life...in what I can do, in what I want to do and to what I will aspire. Blessed Julian of Norwich was an anchoress in the 14th century. She was quite literally walled into Norwich Cathedral. She had two windows: one opened into the cathedral, so that she could be a part of the worship in the church. The other window was outside. It allowed her to receive food (and I'm assuming, to get rid any waste). More importantly, it allowed her to speak with people, to pray for them and to be a part of their lives. She was a mystic and a little "out there" in her theology. And yet, she was also ahead of her in many other ways. She felt God's presence as a Loving, Kind Mother. Imagine that concept in the medieval world!


While the idea of being walled up anywhere is terrifying from a claustrophobia standpoint,  I have to admit that I felt some affinity for Blessed Julian for the past year. While I've done some traveling and I have gotten out of the house, I have also been home more than ever have. I've always been a doer, a mover, a goer and a 'be right in the thick of things' kind of woman. I've worked, I've volunteered, I've gone out to lunch with friends and noodled around art museums. I have spent more time in quiet contemplation, over the past year, than ever before. It's a heady thing. I've had to learn how to simply be in peace without anyone else to entertain me. I've learned so much in the past year...most of it having to do with meditation, harmonious quiet and silent images. I'm done a great deal of praying. I've read a tremendous amount, even for a bibliophile like me. I've come to appreciate the beauty in stillness in a way I never had before. I've always been an admirer of Blessed Julian, but I've come to understand her better...even in the smallest way...to know what it's like to simply be alone.

My new blog,  And All Shall Be Well, will not be  a collection of my own life experiences and lessons from, as I had in The Preppy Yogini. It's my goal to write short essays that may be used in meditation, for inspirational reading, for prayer and for uplifting imagery. This won't be a running diary. Rather, it will simply be a tool for others to use in their quests. I like to describe myself an Episcopalian with dashes of Jewish roots and twists of Zen. I feel honored and blessed by Native American, Celtic and Norse traditions. And All Shall Be Well is most definitely written with God in mind and in heart. But, I'm hopeful that, whatever one's faith tradition, there will be illuminating pieces that will speak to many. I plan on drawing from many sources for my own inspiration.


St. Paul wrote in Philippians, "Finally, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."  It's my hope that the pictures I'll paint with my words will uplift and will be worthy to 'think on'.


(Note: I will not take down The Preppy Yogini, I've accomplished what I had hoped to..and will continue to update. But, I hope you join me as I work on And All Shall Be Well. Namaste, Peace and Thank you.)

The Blues

No one really cares if you're miserable, so you might as well be happy. ~ Cynthia Nelms

Louis Armstong. Johnny Lee Hooker. Bessie Smith. Etta James. Duke Ellington. Bo Diddley. Howlin' Wolf. B.B. King. Familiar names, to most of us, as blues musicians who have defined what people consider to be the crème de la crème of the genre. Their music continues to appear on soundtracks to popular movies, is played on current radio stations and has influenced scores of other artists. What about Big Bill Boonzey, Blind Boy Fuller, Memphis Minnie and Sippie Wallace? They're not as well known as their more contemporary successors, but their music, style, verve and creativity in blending 19th century gospel and spirituals, with early swing music, forever changed the course of musical history. From the Rolling Stones to Coldplay, the Blues have influenced countless musicians. The Blues has long been my favorite genre...I can easily get lost in the traditional 'four line' repeat. The pace and rhythm draw me back whenever I'm feeling scattered. It's been my mainstay, my touchstone and my musical 'home' during every phase of my life. Even as a 21 year old bride, I had a blues/jazz band, rather than the more popular DJ's, or 80's "wedding singer" style of music, entertain at my big day. 

The Blues has transcended racial, cultural and national barriers. It's powerful enough to speak to people in every country, of every ethnicity and socio-economic class. It's a passionate draw for both men and women, young and old. The Blues is there for the 'taking'...and can be relevant for nearly everyone, everywhere. And yet, the Blues began, in its inception, by conveying sadness, sorrow, depression, loss, heartache and dismay in a creative, culturally appropriate manner. The Blues spoke of injustice, devastation, protest and worry. For those who had no 'voice' with which to express their angst, the music gave them a powerful tool in doing so. It allowed others, who couldn't express what they were feeling, a way to 'feel' along with the music. Depression, sadness and anxiety could be 'listened to'...and allow those experiencing those emotions an empathic vehicle. The success, and transcendence, of the Blues shows me how important it is for us to have outlets during times of trouble.

I have to admit that the non-musical form of the blues has hit me fairly hard over the past few months. I was scared beyond belief during my cancer diagnosis, testing and surgery. I was anxious about my recovery and convalescence. I was frustrated and aggrieved by my physical setbacks. Now? Despite being incredible thankful and appreciative that I'm as well as is possible, I still have moments, lapses and periods of discouragement. More than  half of all cancer patients will experience depression *after* their treatment ends. Why? When one is in the midst of treatment, there is a plan of action. It's terrifying. It's painful. But, it's an agenda for getting well. When treatment ends, and the cancer patient is left with a battered, changed and ravaged body, it's easy to see why loss often hits after cancer is over. Factor in fear of insurmountable medical bills, terror that the cancer will return, loss of jobs and income, overwhelming post surgery rehabilitation and a shattered sense of self worth, and all the earmarks for seriously bruised spirits are in place. 

One of the things I keep reminding myself is that I have a new definition for 'normal'. What ordinary, everyday and fit meant to me 4 months ago are completely different than what they mean for me now. It's not easy to readjust one's expectations. Clothes that were flattering in October no longer work for my new body. Emotions that were easily held in check are now more difficult. My usual ability of looking at myself in a mirror has been altered forever. I don't like my reflection most of the time. I don't like the lumpy, shattered, unalluring woman who gazes back at me. I don't know how to dress, what to do, what to say or what to think most of the time. I am well aware that my bikini days are over. It's disturbing in body, of course, but also in mind and spirit. What do I do with this new self, one that barely resembles the woman from last November?  How do I change the way I feel, the way I look, the way I cope and the way I move forward?

I do have the blues right now. But, the blues don't define me. I don't allow them to take over my life, my spirit or my hope for the future. I have lots of new things to learn. I have new skills to master...many of which were simple for me a few months ago. I have to regain the woman I once was, temper her with what I've experienced and discover improved ways to move forward. A case of the blues will not ruin the second chance I've been given. They do teach me how much I've lost. They also remind me about what I've overcome. I can take my feelings and examine them logically. It isn't an easy process. I realize how tied up in being pretty, being physically strong and being vibrant I once was. I see how much my self-worth was tied up in these feelings.  

I'm not out of the blues yet, and they hit me unexpectedly at times. I do have an immeasurable sense of appreciation for the gifts I have been given. My blues aren't completely pitch black and I do see a great deal of light. I am thankful that I can create shades of indigo, cobalt and turquoise. As Bessy Smith sang, "It's a long old road, but I know I'm gonna find the end." 

April Fool's!

When I was growing up, April Fool's Day took on a life of its own. My father was a master prankster. A humorous man with a powerful business side, one could never quite tell when Dad was pulling your leg, or when he was dead serious. Dad was well known for his logical, common sense approach to the advertising and hotel industries and his forward thinking policies remain current decades later.

Still, Dad was never one to give up the opportunity to make light of a situation...especially himself. One of the ways in which I most admired my father was his ability to laugh at himself and not to take his own 'press' too seriously. As serious person person, learning to gain a sense of humor was on my list of goals to achieve. And, Dad was only partially kidding when he told me to put it on my list.

April Fool's Day rolled around our house every year, and every year I was taken in by Dad's deadpan expression or his unbridled excitement. When we lived in New York, our home had a dock right on Long Island Sound. One of my favorite places to play was at the dock area, gathering shells, and even finding horseshoe crabs at low tide. Year after year, he'd wake me up with "Ellen, there's a whale on the dock!". Year after year, I would run down the lawn to the dock, with Shamu nowhere to be seen.

After our family relocated to the Ranch in California, and I was crazy in love with my overweight, but extremely gentle pony, Frosty, Dad called from our barn with extreme glee. He let me know that Frosty had not just been fat, she had been pregnant, and I was now the proud "Mama" of a little white foal. He let me squeal with delight until he began offering names for our newest barn resident. "April Fool" topped that list. It took me a few minutes to catch on that year.

By the time I left for prep school and college, I was pretty well jaded to any of Dad's April Fool's jokes. For the entire last week of March, I'd write notes to myself not to believe a word he'd say. I steeled myself for any ploy, no matter how clever or enticing. I thought I'd gotten quite astute at detecting Dad's pranks. That is, until my junior year of college.

Dad phoned me, as usual, and asked about my classes, my friends and life in Massachusetts. I asked him about the hotel, my Mom and our many animals. Then, ever so non-chalantly, Dad mentioned that Mick Jagger (whose poster hung in my dorm room) had been to Brunch in our beautiful hotel restaurant. Dad knew what a Rolling Stones fan I was, and I just rolled my eyes at this pathetic attempt at trickery. I said, "Sure, Dad. Whatever you say." I didn't believe a word of it. That is, I didn't believe a word of it until weeks later, when I spoke with my mom, and she asked, "Oh, and did Dad tell you that Mick Jagger was at the Ranch a few weeks ago?". My jaw just about hit the floor. The best prank of all...and Dad had been setting it up for 20 years: it was true, but he knew I wouldn't believe it.

And, so I end this blog post with a thought, "some of the best jokes aren't jokes at all, but it's all how you tell the story....".

Happy April Fool's Day! I miss you, Dad.

Contentment

"Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is." ~ Anne Frank

Isn’t it amazing that Anne Frank wrote these words not long before her family was turned in to the Secret Police ? I find it extraordinary to read about her optimism and heroic spirit, under the most trying, terrifying and tragic circumstances. It’s hard to fathom hiding in an attic, crammed together with another family, survival based solely on, to quote Tennessee Williams, “The Kindness of Strangers”, and yet to remain filled with a sense of hope and inexplicable joy. Anne Frank’s courage has always been noted, but what fascinates me beyond that valor is the happiness she felt in simply living…her zest for life coming not from outside her circumstances, but from within her loving, peaceful and sanguine heart. She was literally bubbling over with the insights into the human capacity for great promise.

Anne Frank’s words remind me that we have the potential not only for greatness in acts of kindness, love and generosity, but for deep contentment, regardless of our circumstances. I believe it’s much more difficult to remain in this state of bliss than it is to show happiness outwardly. In many ways, it much easier to lend a hand, give a hug or provide a listening ear to a friend who is struggling. These are all active qualities. The passive quality of remaining in gratification, under any duress, is more challenging. Why ? Because it requires a deep sense of balance in our perspective on our lives. Balance is very tricky to achieve. It’s easy to be happy when things our going our way! When we are laughing, singing, dancing and all good fortune seems to just flow in our direction, we can most certainly indentify with overflowing bliss. But, what happens when we lose our jobs, we’re up all night with a sick child, we find out a parent is ill or we’re very worried about our finances ? What happens in our hearts when we watch the news, seeing terrible stories that we are powerless to change ?

St. Paul wrote, “for I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want.” That’s a very powerful sentiment, and deeply difficult to achieve. Yet, isn’t this precisely the sentiment Anne Frank was sharing ? We all face challenges daily. Some are astronomical in size, such as learning you have a terrible illness. Others are more mundane, and yet, can feel astronomical when we are overwhelmed by them. Our challenge isn’t always to solve the problems, but to learn how to live through them, with them and regardless of them.

The tall task we face is finding our path through the chaos, not merely for survival, but in order to thrive. Most of us can sustain times of stress. We look ahead and realize these complications will not last forever and, keeping our eye on the objective at the end of the trial, we work towards that goal. But, have we thrived during that time ? Most likely, we’ve squeaked by. The key is to live abundantly while in the midst of turbulence. There are many ways to accomplish this, and none of them are simple, ‘quick fix’ methods. Each path is completely individual, and what works for one person, may not be helpful to another. But, I believe that keeping the words of both Anne Frank and St. Paul in our minds, we can ask ourselves these questions daily:

What happened today that made me smile ?
What happened today that I did well ?
What words did I say that made someone else happy ?

By reflecting on the joy, not the sorrow, and by eliminating the negative questions our minds plague us with, we can look to the good in all things, and in all ways. Often our evening recaps of the day begin with the “bad”. The simple action of reflecting on the good…no matter how trivial it might seem…can bring us to a place of looking for the simple pleasures in our every day living. Merely halting the inner dialogue of ‘what’s wrong’ can be incredibly uplifting.

So, when the dog eats your couch, your children are arguing, you’re worried about how to pay your heating bill or you wonder what you will do for your friend whose marriage is ending, take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Simply exist, at peace, in that very moment. Tackle each challenge as it comes, but know, in your heart of hearts, that all *is* well. Imagine the possibilities of hope when you unlock the inner potential for joy, regardless of your circumstances. And, always have a cup of tea handy.

"I am not made, or unmade, by the circumstances in my life, but by my reactions to them." St. John of the Cross