Ash Wednesday

I happen to love Ash Wednesday. As an Episcopalian, the service I attend is one of penitence, humility, reverence, preparation and hope. The beauty of the Anglican language never ceases to amaze me with its elegant prose, uniting prayers and call to self-examination. By looking at the season of Lent, in even more than dateson a theological calender, we can open the pathways to greater understanding "for us and for all mankind". The altar is stripped of all outward expressions, with the exception of the barest essentials. For the next six weeks, we have the invitation to draw closer to God, as well to our own inner selves. It's an invitation I don't take lightly. I treasure this time to reflect, to examine my heart and to prepare myself to move forward inspirationally, intellectually and intentionally.

Because I did not grow up in a religious household, the true meaning of Lent has come into my life as a teen, and then as an adult. I used to admire and even envy the kids who came to school with ashes on their foreheads. I thought those ashes signified a club of which I was not a part, and never would be. The smugness that came with those ashes didn't help matters. And, of course, it made me *want* the ashes all the more. As I can to truly understand the significance of them, as a teen, I realized that the "holier than thou" attitude that came with some of the ashen as they walked into class late bearing a note, along with their forehead bearing excused badges, was completely counter to the meaning of Ash Wednesday: which is a time of sincere reflection, self-examination and true humility of 'our own faults'. The outward ashes should simply reflect the symbol of the work that's going on inside one's heart and spirit.

When I attended my first Yoga teacher training session, I was blessed to learn the following prayer:

From darkness to light;

From ignorance to knowledge;

From fear of death to the understanding of the soul's immortality.

How completely amazed I was to learn that this was not a Christian prayer, but rather an yogic one....and yet, how much it spoke to my heart about preparing for Lent, beginning at Ash Wednesday.

The quest for inner understanding, and the need to prepare ourselves to become 'that which we have the potential to be', is not unique to the Judeo-Christian traditions. Many of the Native American religions required a period of ,interestingly close to, 40 days in the wilderness to pray, fast and listen to the spirit. The Buddha wrote, "Life is but a journey. The passing years are but dust, and we shall all return to the dust." It's incredible to me that so many belief systems share such remarkably similar imagery.

Soo, it's my call to you, to light the candle of your spirit. For the next forty days, take time each day to reflect on the kind of person you are right now, and the kind of person you wish to be. Try not to judge yourself (or others, for that matter) but simply acknowledge where you are on the journey. By figuring out that you are on Start at the beginning of a quest for self-knowledge and discovery, you will already be well on your way to your destination: hopefully, a peaceful, enlightened, contented and kind soul, whichever path you may follow. It's not always easy to look inward so intently. It's even harder to truly perceive our own faults. But, because of this extraordinary time of year, in which days grow longer and brighter, we are given the gift of possibility and change.

I pray the next forty days are meaningful for you in innumerable and contemplative ways.

Powerless

We had an intense blizzard yesterday. What began as a slow and gradual accumulation of snow overnight turned into full blown (pun fully intended) white out conditions for 24 hours. While my 16 year old was thrilled with having a Snow Day (and therefore, postponing return to school, after February break, by another day), my husband and I were doing out best to keep life running smoothly, without power. We are fortunate: when my parents built this house, my visionary father had the foresight to install a generator. While the generator is a godsend (or in my case, a Dad-send), it only runs the bare essentials: heat, a few key lights and the fridge.

Although we were safe and our pantry could easily feed an Army of Huns for weeks, it was very easy to feel powerless, both literally and metaphorically. We had absolutely no control when power would be restored. We had no idea when cable and internet would come back. We found our landline phone service was sketchy at best, and there is no cell service at our house. We were, quite simply, at the mercy of Mother Nature, AT & T and Central Maine Power, not to mention, the Town of Camden's road service.

Considering the fact that I do tend to micromanage just about everything I can lay my hands on, I found myself getting very frustrated when I couldn't use my appliances, and had to light lanterns around the house. I felt powerless in the literal sense. I have such a habit of everything electronic working, I found myself walking into rooms, and switching on lights. It took me a few moments each time to grasp that *they didn't work*. The same thing happened with the stove. I tried to preheat the oven for 5 minutes before I realized that it didn't work. Thankfully, I have burners that are propane based, so I was able to light them (without burning myself) and cook up some tins of food. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but we made due. However, all I could think of was how much better dinner would have been with the oven working. Although Jeff and Joshua were perfectly content with hot dogs and beans, I felt enormous guilt that I couldn't whip up something magnificent, in a "MacGuyver meets Martha Stewart" sort of way. I felt impotent in my cooking abilities!

And yet, being powerless wasn't dreadful in the long run. Being unplugged meant I spent more time with the dogs outside, and laughing with family indoors. I was not surgically connected to the computer, the phone or chores requiring electricity. Freed from the responsibilities that come with power, I was able to ignore the floor that needed vacuuming, the laundry that needed washing and the emails I had to send. I was able to live completely in the moment, and to enjoy the blessing of a day 'off'...not just from work, but from outside distractions, as well. I was able to take the time to notice the unbelievable beauty of the Maine coast after a snow storm, and realize how truly blessed I was to live in a place that looks like children imagine Santa's home to be. I was able to devour visually the fluffy white snow against the sharp green of the evergreens, and the vivid blueness of the icicles.

While I have to admit that I was very happy when the power came back on 36 hours later, I must also say that I learned a great deal about appreciation of the peace and quiet. I just wish peace and quiet came with a Cafe au Lait.

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. ~ Alice Walker, "The Color Purple"

Friendship, Loyalty and Ruth

Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

Ruth 1:16

One of my favorite books in the Bible is the book of Ruth, not the least of which is because Ruth is my middle name. The Old Testament, to scholars and historians and theologians alike, is full of metaphor, mixed with historical fact. The Old Testament is filled with images, thoughts, ideas and stories of long ago. These books are debated in Rabbinical schools and Christian seminaries. The places mentioned are among the most popular digs for archeologists. The life lessons, and ethical teachings, are still prevalent today. And yet, it's the book of Ruth that speaks to me the most, out of all the Old Testament books. Why? Because, it speaks on the level of deep abiding friendship between women, a sense of undying loyalty and perserverence in the face of wretched adversity. It's not a complex theological idea that will take me a lifetime to wrap my head around. Rather, it's a lesson in how women could, and should, behave towards one another.

Ruth is an extraordinary woman. She leaves all she knows to join her husband's household. When he passes away, and when famine threatens the land, Ruth, and her sisters in law, are released from their mother in law, Naomi, to return to their own families, where they might find a better chance of food, shelter and future promise. But, Ruth refuses to leave her aging mother in law, and instead becomes the bread winner, quite literally, insistent upon honor and kindness and a shared burden. How many women would show this type of character today? Ruth's example of standing together to face hard times was unique in her own time, and it's unique today. Her example of selflessness and hard work for another person inspire me beyond measure.

Beginning in middle school, girls are often pitted against one another. They compete, they establish territories and they torment weaker ones with 'Mean Girl' tactics. Girls can be far worse bullies than boys....because the words and manipulation they inflict can last a lifetime. They spread rumors, they malign and they instigate fear. Sadly, this behavior can continue on until adulthood with some women vying for attention by making others around them "look badly" to their mutual friends. They are competitive, back biting and disloyal, at times. It would never occur to these girls (and women) that our bond as women, and as fellow human beings, should transcend jealousy, bitterness and hostility to make oneself feel better.

Thankfully, I've been blessed with wonderful women friends. Most of us are all around the country (and the world) these days. But, with help from the internet, I'm able to glean support, kindness and friendship in much the same way Ruth gleaned in the fields. If there is one harsh reality that I wish I could spare my own daughter, it's the pain that can be inflicted from other women. And yet, underneath the pain and throughout the lessons learned, other friendships can be formed that are lasting, true and free of competition. I don't believe we can fully appreciate the trueness of loyal friendship without feeling the sting of false.

Like Ruth, I hope to become a woman of unquestioned loyalty, hard work, kindness and commitment. I hope to show love when I'm afraid. I wish I could be as courageous, in the face of uncertainty, as she was. I hope I can pass these traits on to my daughter. I hope that she will know the kind, but more difficult, path will build character far deeper and much further reaching. It doesn't make hurt caused by other girls go away, but it does make you appreciate those who are loyal all the more.

And, I'm most definitely proud to be Ellen Ruth. I have some big shoes to fill.

Bringing It Home

The expression "Bringing It Home" has many connotations. It happens to be the name of a PBS television series about fine dining in your own house. It's a gymnastics term for sticking at landing. Bringing It Home can mean winning a trophy, acing a test or bringing revitalization to a community. In the news lately, it can often mean bringing lost jobs back to the United States. I hear people talk about this expression in reference to their work; meaning they'll tackle the projects at night. I have seen people use this analogy when they mean to make a very solid point in an argument. I have also heard it used by dancers, as they finish a particularly rough bit of choreography. And yet, lately, I've been hearing this used more and more as a Yoga term. What does it mean, in a yogic sense?

For many people who practice Yoga, the entire adventure centers on going to class. In addition to regular classes they attend, many people will even go on retreats, take weekend intensives, go to resorts where yoga is offered or read Yoga Journal. Still, the very essence of Yoga isn't about going away, but rather, about coming home. I love teaching classes, and I love attending them. It's a wonderful feeling to walk into the studio and, in either role, know that the next 90 minutes will be all about the practice, without distractions and full of intent. Attending regular classes is very important: without them, we don't learn about proper body alignment or correct positioning. We would fail to connect with other people, in various stages of yoga development. We would be islands to ourselves.

Still, Yoga isn't just about attending class. Part of the wonderful feeling we have in class isn't meant to spent there, and only there. It's meant to be brought home, to share with those we love and to continue on the journey at home. An analogy I heard from a master teacher recently was, without a home practice, it would be like taking a piano lesson once a week, and then ignoring music for the other 6 days.

Unrolling the mat at home is very difficult! In my case, as focused and single minded as I am in class, I am completely distracted at home. I look at the laundry that needs to be folded, the bills that need to be paid, the dust bunnies under the chair, the meals that need to be cooked, and yes, the distraction of checking the computer. I'll give myself 10 minutes to get my to-do list partially squared away, and before I know it, I'm emailing with my cousin, and the dogs are lying on my mat. The dogs are another distraction: they see Human Mom lying on the mat, and then believe it's "Pile on Mom Time!".

Still, a home practice is essential to overall yoga well being. It connects your home self to your studio self. It gives you more opportunities for growth. It also teaches you enormous self-discipline. I am working very hard on the clutter in my house, but it is hard to escape from completely. So, I've created one small niche in which to practice: my front hall. I realize this sounds a little bizarre, but it's open, it's got wonderful natural lighting and a good mirror. I orient myself to face the door (and not into the house and its nagging projects) and just give myself whatever time I can squeak out. Interestingly, what began as 5 minutes has turned into 30. In summer, I practice outdoors, which is far more amenable to a home practice, unless, of course, you're an avid gardener. In this case, I'd suggest to orient yourself away from your weeding.

Even if you don't practice Yoga, I believe that the idea of bringing home the very best of ourselves is crucially important to our well being. How many people do you know are passionate about their work, but come home miserably? If we can share that spark of our authentic, loving and compassionate selves with the people closest to us, we have a much better chance of enjoying our 'home' personas much better ourselves.

Just make space in one corner of your house to let your true self shine....even if it means turning away from the dust bunnies.

"If one desires a change at home, one must be the change before it takes place." Gita Bellin

The Peaceable Kingdom

My home is, in many ways, an oxymoron. It's a home filled with animals who shouldn't get along, but love each other. It's a very busy household with each family member heading off in different directions, and yet still exudes a sense of sanctuary...most of the time What my goal for my home has always been is the "Peaceable Kingdom", where the lion can lay down with the lamb. Or, in my case, the German Shepherd with the Holland Lop Bunny and teenagers can feel comfortable enough to consider our home a nice place to hang out safely.

It never fails to amaze me how well Mackenzie, my 120 long haired German Shepherd can get along with Pancakes, the 5 pound rabbit. Most mornings, when I let Pancakes out of her cage, the first thing event of the peaceful day is Mackenzie and she touch noses, and Mackenzie gives her the morning kisses. Then, the bunny will follow the German Shepherd around all day. It's not unusual to find both of them curled up at my feet, bunny resting between the safe shelter of the dog's front paws. What should be a 'no contest' death match between predator and prey is a love relationship between two different species who find comfort in one another's presence. Mackenzie treats the bunny with maternal affection. Pancakes has no fear of the enormous dog but rather, believes her to be a safe and sheltering place to rest.

An artist I have long admired is Edward Hicks, who painted a series of "Peaceable Kingdom" pieces in the late 18th century. A Quaker, Hicks' beliefs were new to both himself and to the new nation. His religious beliefs were so new and were so unusual, many people were not sure quite what to to make of him. Even his fellow Quakers found Hicks' beliefs in a beautiful world in which all could live in peace and harmony to be anachronistic. Because I have a love for Colonial folk painting, and because I also have a heart for Hicks' code of ethics and beliefs, I find his work to be prophetic, in many ways, of the modern Yoga movement, as well as more tolerant denomations of Christianity. Interestingly, Hicks' work is quite well known, but his life story is not. His goals of justice and purity of spirit shine forth from his paintings and certainly hold true today, as much as they did in the late 1700's.

In Yoga, we do strive to find a peaceable kindgom. We hope to create, within our hearts and within our lives, a sense of justice and hope. We hope to build bridges between ourselves and those with whom we have disagreements. We hope to create, within our own hearts, a deep and abiding love for all those around us. We hope to let go of our frustrations, anger and resentments, and in their place, allow new possibilities to take hold. We hope to breathe in the light of goodness and release negative emotions and prejudices. We believe in trying to create a peaceable kingdom both within our hearts, and also within our lives.

If a German Shepherd can do this with a little bunny, I believe anything is possible. We just have to try.

This Old House

When Jeff and I were very young newlyweds, we used to love watching "This Old House" on weekends. In the days before cable was widespread and new channels, like "HGTV" and "The Travel Channel" sprung up, we'd live vicariously through these occasional glimpses of historic restoration work on PBS. We would see, week by agonizingly slow week, the painful renovation of an old barn into a beautiful home, and imagine that we, ourselves, could undertake that wonderful journey ourselves. I fancied myself an amateur conservator, if we could find an old barn to restore ourselves, and to create a magical sanctuary, from what was once forgotten and decay.

In addition to an unrealistic and ill-advised passion for old houses, I've also always loved Scotland. The idea of it, the "William Wallace" soul of bravery, and the sheer beauty of the place have forever ignited a passion and a connection to this special country. One of my father's dream trips, that he was never able to take, was to go to see the Scottish Sheep Dog (Border Collie) trials. A lifelong love for this breed, and what these amazing dogs could do instinctively, led him to own two Border Collies over the years. But, he always wanted to see their amazing displays of prowess in Scotland. I just loved the romance of the land...even if I do have a long standing fear of Haggis. (Google it...not so appealing as adorable dogs and castles).

These two loves in the abstract sense, that of restoring an old house and that of Scotland, came together in Belinda Rathbone's memoir, "The Guynd". In this very readable story, Ms. Rathbone recounts her transformation from single New York City writer to life married to a Scottish laird. In her story, she writes "I knew that the house came with the man...or the man with the house." The Guynd (pronounced to rhyme with wind, especially fitting since it never stopped blowing) was a decripted, sprawling, mausoleum of a manor house, with 300 acres of former gardens and land...now all gone to seed, both the house and the land itself. Ms. Rathbone's discoveries in long forgotten rooms, outbuildings, basements and attics lead to her own passion for the estate, and for its restoration. She learns the vast history of being part of such a long lineage of homeowners, but more importantly, she learns that the history is more important than the present to her husband. Her painstaking care of restoring the gardens, and creating liveable family spaces in the house itself, are meticulously, and hilariously, described. In the end, neither her marriage, nor her never-ending 'to do' list survive, and yet, Ms. Rathbone's journey and adventure seem to have been an end in themselves. I admired her story. However, it also made me appreciate not having to live it myself.

While I still have my admiration intact for Scotland and historic preservation and renovation, I have come to realize that I may not have the chutzpah for a major overhaul on a property. Whenever I point out a great old house for sale, Jeff kindly reminds me of the 1980's movie, "The Money Pit". Still, when we're at Home Depot, he drools over tools he'll never need in our 1992 contemporary. I have grand dreams of a breathtaking restoration on a home that had historical significance in the Revolutionary War. Jeff has grand dreams of sheetrocking without any visible seams or being able to reroof our entire house himself.

Somewhere in the middle, I'm sure, lies our next great project. Maybe it will be historic. Maybe it will just need a fresh coat of paint. Maybe the universe just wants us to take care of what we have now. No matter what, sometimes it's a great deal more fun to dream of the next "big thing" than to actually live it.

"It's when you're safe at home that you wish you were having an adventure. When you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home." ~~ Thornton Wilder

Testimony

Anita Shreve has long been on of my favorite authors. Her insightful, poetic style has brought tears to my eyes because her writing is extraordinarily beautiful. Yet, she doesn't shy away from controversial subjects. Ms. Shreve, if anything, gravitates towards them, and makes art out of chaos and complexity. Her latest book, "Testimony", simply blew me away. As the mother of teens in New England schools, I was slightly hestitant to read this book, about a 'crime' in a New England prep school. Still, like Jodi Picoult's "Nineteen Minutes", the writing drew me into a story that might ordinarily frighten my sensibilities as a mother. "Testimony" takes a hard look at the boarding school culture, as well as the intricately woven tapestry of stories that, when viewed together, create an entire picture of what happened in a controversial event. Each character has his, or her, own perspective, and individually, the stories vary greatly because each character is in possession of his own 'truth'. And, yet, do any of us ever truly understand any situation, when we look exclusively at our own place in the story?

Every culture believes itself to be in possession of the Truth. We each have our own beliefs in how our own civilizations came to be and we believe that we possess our own stories. Not only that, but our version of the stories, we believe are the reality of the history of who we are. In pre-Colombian Mexico, the Aztecs believed themselves to be directly related to the Sun God. This wasn't just an opinion. This was the very basis of their belief system, and so ingrained in their thought processes, that it never occurred to them that there could be another way of viewing the world. When the Spanish conquistadors arrived in the Central America, the Aztecs did not believe the Spanish could mean them any harm. In fact, they welcomed the conquering Spanish as gods and fellow descendents of the the same belief system. Because the Spanish belief system regarding themselves as the superior culture, they believed that the Aztecs were were inferior, and that their history was meaningless, compared with the expanding empire, in the name of Christianity. The Aztecs, to the Spanish, possessed nothing of value culturally, and their worth---their stories--were meaningless. Once the Aztecs realized that the Spanish were not only 'not' gods, but meant them great harm, they did everything they could to protect themselves against the 'savage' Spanish army. Both sides, the Aztecs and the Spanish, had incredible points of their cultural history. The Aztecs were master builders, astronomers, artists and created a safe roadway system that was non-existant at the time in Europe. The Spanish were great explorers, scholars and educators. And yet, each side was engaged in a bloody battle over superiorty of a land that would ulimately become a blended culture. Neither culture, initially, saw validity in the other sides' stories, traditions and ideals. Both were accused (and guilty of) terrible atrocities. And yet, both were capable of enormous beauty.

Too often, in life, we forget that there is more than one side to a story...even to the stories of our own lives. There are the impressions of our parents, our grandparents and our cousins. There are the images of our friends and our teachers. There are our own faulty memories, and even the perspectives of those with whom we don't get along. When we begin to take honest stock of our own lives, it's deeply important to remember that our own point of view is not the only one available. When we can begin to look at the way others see us, even if it's not in the most flattering light, we can also begin to form more accurate impressions of who we are. By listening, rather than speaking, and by hearing, rather than glossing over, we can allow ourselves to take a deeper glimpse into the stories of who we truly, and authentically, are. In doing so, we can help direct our lives to the course we wish to steer towards.

When you look in the mirror, ask yourself who you see. Do you see a mother, a wife, or a friend? Do you see the girl you used to be, or the woman you wish you were? We are, none of us, an island. There are many people who can give testimony to our lives. What would they say? Would you be proud of their comments? Or, would you, shrink away, thinking, "That's what people really think of me?". Ask those who know you best for their honest impressions of you. Ask what you do do very well, and what you need to work. Use other people's perceptions to help you gain a well balanced insight into where you are right now. You can't move forward, metaphorically or literally, until you know where you are right now, at this very moment. But, by being willing, and open, to constructive criticism, you can gain a much richer picture of your 'true' life story...not just the one you create for yourself in your daydreams. By having an authentic picture, you can take stock, weigh your own pro's and con's, and then progress.

Most of all, this exercise will give a truly well rounded impression of the person who is most critical to your well being: you.

We do not deal much in facts when we are contemplating ourselves. But, we must learn to excavate. ~Mark Twain