Learning To Be Soft

     We live in a quaint little town in Southern California that prides itself on its ties to the past when it was once the biggest producer of citrus in the world. Our house is on a main street that is near a local elementary school. When you live in a small town like this and you live on a main street, just about everyone knows where you live. We love our little ranch house and the neighborhood its in, but when our daughter hit middle school we began to question our choice of locations. We have been vandalized too many times to count in the last four years. It started with teepeeing, that was not a big deal, then they moved on to eggs, then nasty messages scrawled on our picket fence, our daughters car has been egged, written on with crayon, bananas stuffed in the tail pipe, feces smeared on our garage door, a bottle of urine thrown into our yard, it has been pretty brutal emotionally on all of us. Jayne is now a senior and it feels like things are beginning to settle down or, as my grandma used to say, “God willing and the creek don't rise...” I learned on Friday night that I might just have a minor case of post traumatic stress syndrome related to our teen vandals. I have been pretty unnerved at my own behavior on Friday and was talking with a friend today about the whole incident, as we laughed at my ridiculous behavior, I decided the incident was the perfect topic for me to blog about.

     This past Friday Jayne was out with friends, and she checked in and said she would be home around 2 AM, as they were watching movies at a friend's house. Around 1:45 our dogs started barking, so we assumed Jayne was home. Yet they continued to bark, so I pulled on my robe and headed out to see what was going on. As I looked out the back fence I noticed our neighbors were getting teepeed; the kids were still at it even though it looked to me like every square inch of their front yard was covered in toilet paper. I stepped out and said, “It's late and you're keeping us up. Enough!” Some of them ran giggling, which is what I expected, but a few of them kept up with their assault on our neighbors' trees. I said in what I hoped was an even more focreful voice, “Enough. Our dogs are barking and keeping up the whole neighborhood.” As I stood in the driveway clad only in a robe and bare-feet, one of the girls began barking and running at me, and then she threw a roll of toilet paper at my head! She missed, but I felt like a dam broke inside of me and I ran after her (there were two cars waiting for them). I began to bang my fists on the mini-vans windows screaming obscenities at them until they tore out, then I moved on to the little blue hatchback and started to bang on the window screaming that they were vandals and that I was taking their license and calling the police. At this point the poor girl behind the wheel was pleading with me that they were just teenagers having fun and to leave them alone. She then took off in pursuit of her friends. They came back a few minutes later hanging out of the mini-van screaming and hurling eggs at our driveway, but I suppose I brought that one on myself.

     Since then, besides frequently chuckling at the image of the crazed yoga teacher running down the street in a robe and swearing at teenagers, I have been questioning my lack of control. Was I not the adult in the situation? Or is it simply that I had a human moment? I don't lose my cool very often; I can think of only four times in almost eighteen years of parenting that I regret my behavior with Jayne. I have certainly made more than four mistakes as a parent, but most of the time when I make mistakes my intention is fueled by love, not anger. Through this incident with the teens I have found new insight. Perhaps it is in those times that my anger gets the best of me that I can learn the most. I have held myself up to some pretty high standards and when I don't meet them and my own humanness shines through, I am quick to condemn myself. If I can learn to forgive myself my mistakes then maybe I can begin to more quickly forgive the people I love their own mistakes. So next time I lose it and do something wacky I am going to try and let it roll off and move on without allowing self-deprecating thoughts to go on for days. I'm going to try and be soft on myself so that I can be soft with the world.

Does Juicing Dandelion Greens Make Me a Hippie?

 

 I have always thought of myself as a bit of a hippie chic, but I was born too late to truly call myself a child of the sixties.  As I recently sifted through stacks of old pictures for a project Jayne's grandmother is making for her graduation gift, I came across this picture of me when I was six or seven.  Check out the groovy headband, perhaps I was quickly reincarnated and actually did experience Woodstock. Here is what I did with some dandelion greens a friend just gave me today, you can also throw them into a green salad.

Juice:

Three big handfuls of dandelion greens

Two oranges

Serves 1

My Experience With Seva

      The notion that we are all connected seems to be a recurring theme in my life of late. This morning as I sat with my friend Mina quietly catching up, I spoke to her of my neighbor Gabe (pronounced Gay-bee...she's German). Gabe has become very dear to me and, in her own way, is helping to fill a hole that has been left by my strained relationship with my mother. She is eighty-five years old and is losing her sight to macular degenerative disease. We spend time together each week doing different activities, depending upon what she needs. I have picked up her cleaning, taken her to the mall when she is running out of facial products, fixed an alarm clock, deliver dinners, or sometimes we just sit and I listen to her stories as we sip tea and she holds my little dachshund Gobi. Gobi is how this connection began. Our daughter wanted a little dog, something Pete and I had never contemplated; we considered ourselves “big dog” people. German Shepards, Labs, Rhodesian Ridgebacks, that we know, but a fifteen pounder? Jayne found Gobi at a pet rescue where he immediately stole her heart, and we set up a one on one visit with him. One look at that adorable, long haired weenie dog and we were all in agreement, he needed to come home with us. What we didn't know is that weenie dogs are infamous for barking, and boy did he live up to the reputation.

     One day, shortly after Gobi arrived, a woman was at our back gate trying to rouse my attention over the cacophony of dog barking. I went to the gate and let her in, she said she heard we had a Dachshund. I thought she meant word was getting around about my yippie dog, then I realized she could not see and literally meant she heard him. It seems her mother had raised doxies in Germany and she owned one until recently when her eye sight became too poor. When she found herself tripping over her own dachshund (they love to hide under your feet), she decided she had to give him up. The love that shone in her face as she held Gobi for the first time was wondrous and I immediately felt that the universe put this dog in our path for her. I asked if Gobi and I could come for an occassional visit and a freindship was born. She is a fascinating woman who survived Hitler's Germany, met and married an American Airforce pilot, and then left everything she knew behind to come to America. Mina pointed out that I am practicing seva, or selfless service, each time I sit with Gabe. I pondered this idea; it doesn't feel like a “service” when I'm with her, it warms my heart to be in a relationship with this beautiful woman, which is exactly what seva should do. There is a reverence that accompanies practicing seva. A highly spiritual motivation lies behind one's actions and it is palpable to both the giver and the receiver. Truly seva is an experience of our interconnectedness.

     The Dalai Lama says that “given the scale of life in the cosmos, one human life is no more than a tiny blip. Each one of us is a just visitor to this planet, a guest, who will only stay for a limited time. What greater folly could there be than to spend this short time alone, unhappy or in conflict with our companions? Far better, surely, to use our short time here in living a meaningful life, enriched by our sense of connection with others and being of service to them”. I believe that an abundance of gifts have come my way thanks to seva, and I'm not talking material abundance. I feel loved and appreciated in ways now that I had only read about in self-help books before. I have started to truly love and appreciate myself, somethng that was elusive to me in my youth, and feel content on most days with exactly where I am. Through each experience of seva that I undertake I find I am able to open my heart more and more to the people that are in front of me. I guess I now know why the Beatles lyrics “the love you take is equal to the love you make” has been my mantra for so may years; I was destined to practice seva, just as the Dalai Lama says we all should do.          

Grapefruit and Fennel Juice Anyone?

I made this juice for our breakfast and it was yummy.  

2 grapefruit

1 green apple

1/2 bulb of fennel

1 large sprig of mint

Serves 2

The Best Green Chile Chicken Soup Ever

I love to cook, but when I'm feeling lazy I normally turn to a soup recipe that I can put on and we can eat whenever we feel like it.  Last night I mixed up a wonderful chicken soup with some stuff I had in my cupboard and I think it was the best chicken soup I have ever had.  It has a little spice to it, and I'm a bit of a "spice wimp", so I added a dollop of sour cream and some shredded cheddar cheese, Pete added tabasco!

                                            Green Chile Chicken Soup Recipe

2 Tbl olive oil                                                                2 organic carrots, chopped
2 organic chicken breast                                                1 can of corn
1 medium onion, chopped                                             1 Tbl cumin
2 cloves of garlic, minced                                              1 tsp thyme
1 can rotel tomatoes                                                       1 tsp marjoram
1 can whole green chiles, 4 oz, chopped                       1 tsp oregano
2 cups chicken broth
2 stalks of celery, diced
2 medium potatoes, cubed

Heat the oil in a large soup pot over medium heat.  Add onion, garlic, and chicken.  Cook until chicken is browned, remove chicken and cut into small pieces.  Add to the onion and garlic the carrots, celery, cumin, thyme, marjoram, oregano, and cook over medium to low heat for five minutes then return the chicken and add all the other ingredients.  Cook for two hours, checking to see if water is needed.  The consistency is almost stew like, so do not add too much water.  Serve with a warm sourdough bread on the side.
Serves 4

Ahimsa: The Trump Card of the Yamas

     Just before I turned forty I was diagnosed with premature ovarian failure, or, as my doctor so delicately put it, “I have old ovaries.” My first thought was, “Oh joy!”  Then I remembered a truth that I have embraced for many years: as we grow old our bodies deteriorate and then we die, there's no changing this fact, so I started to read about menopause and arm myself for the future. The only choice I see when facing an aging body, assuming I don't want to go through life focused on every little physical setback that comes my way, is to embrace each situation as it comes and make the best of it. In the beginning the symptoms were tolerable, I managed them with yoga and meditation, then I eventually added some herbal remedies. As things progressed I went to a yam based cream and that did the trick for a while, then things got worse. My mood was consistently foul, I began to understand how an attorney might use menopause as a defense in court. The migraines returned with a vengeance and then I knew something had to give, my quality of life was dramatically altered and it dawned on me that I was suffering through this as I tried to maintain my “holistic” lifestyle to the detriment of my own happiness.

      I went back to my doctor, who immediately suggested a pharmaceutical path to alleviate my symptoms. I had been doing research for a couple of years and had a few ideas of my own as to how I wanted to proceed, so I asked about bio-identical hormones. At this point the conversation took a turn and my doctor went on the defense, suggesting that I at least try the drugs. I wasn't having any of this; I prefer to save the pharmaceuticals as a last resort, and I continued to lobby for a plant based solution, and I'm nothing if not relentless. So eventually she gave me a prescription for a bio-identical cream, then we added a soy based pill to the mix when my cycles completely stopped. This worked well for a few years, then about eight weeks ago my symptoms came roaring back. Thanks to hot flashes I have not slept through the night in weeks, I've had two to three migraines a week for at least five weeks now, and I'm as emotional as my teenage daughter after a breakup. Recently I was presented with a new route to try, bio-identical pellets consisting of plant based hormones inserted subcutaneously, and I jumped on it. As many of you on the holistic or natural path have probably found it's not always embraced by everyone, it's often met with skepticism and fear or I find some people are purist that believe one should let nature run its course without interference. I know that when someone gives me their opinion it is normally based on their love and well wishes for me. Yet, these opinions at times are not helpful at all, in fact, they are sometimes just the opposite. I would urge all of us to allow ahimsa, non-harming, to override the inclination to immediately give our opinion and to think more carefully about when to offer up our advice.

     As I struggle with a lack of sleep, which is my achiles heel, I have also been planning my first yoga workshop on the yamas and niyamas; studying these concepts more in-depth is exactly what I needed to see this situation more clearly. Last night, as I read about satya, the concept of truthfulness, my hurt from misguided comments about my menopause choices evaporated. I have instead found compassion for the people who were trying to support me with their ill-advised remarks. I can look back at my own behavior and see that at times I have done this myself. I thought I was speaking from a place of love, and I'm sure they were too, but I did not weigh the power of my words. I have offered advice under the delusion that I'm practicing satya, yet when offering my feedback I have not always been sensitive to the recipient's feelings . I recognize now that honesty should be withheld at times when it can do more harm than good. I will weigh my words more carefully in the future realizing that, ultimately, ahimsa should trump all of the other yamas.