Reality.....

These last few weeks have been challenging. There were a few times in the last ten days that 

I wasn’t sure I was going to keep going on this new path.

I had no idea what classroom management would look like with sixty wild, funny, little nymphs. For some it is the first time they’ve ever set foot in an organized, school style setting and I am woefully lacking in experience. 

I think we are finally finding equilibrium.

This weekend I registered and began studying for my second round of state testing for my teacher certification. This test will cover math and science. Suddenly this Humanities-loving scholar gets to revisit algebra, geometry, ratios, and a whole bunch of science stuff I barely made it through thirty years ago.

Then I got a call on Thursday saying my last class for licensing was cancelled due to low enrollment. After many phone calls, and much scrambling, I applied for, was admitted to, registered for, and maneuvered my way around the online system at Santa Fe College to get into the class I needed. I have an assignment due on Sunday. I ordered the book that I need for this assignment tonight and hope that it comes before I

leave for Kansas City on Thursday.

Pete’s oldest and dearest friend’s daughter is getting married on Saturday in Kansas City and all I was thinking is “how am I going to fit it all in? Homework, test prep, my own curriculum to prepare, dogs to walk, travel….”

Tonight, as I finished a short assignment for my new class, I impulsively asked Pete to go for a walk. 

Lately that impulse has been negated by a waterfall of

 “things you still need to do”….but not tonight.

After our walk I rolled out my yoga mat for a short practice.

Then I sat on my meditation cushion. Still. Quiet.

The patio doors open. Crickets humming.

And my practice kicked in.

Reality…...

I have a roof over my head. The ability (and means) to go to school and work. A partner who can still make my heart flutter after a million years together. A daughter who is strong and brave, 

braver than I ever dreamed of being at twenty-two.

This path that I have been traversing for so long has enabled me to live from a 

place of gratitude for what I have and enables me to truly see it, even when 

I fall into a crevasse of self-pity. I just don’t stay too long these days.

I'm Not Sea-faring. I'm Not River-faring. I'm Not Pond-faring.

The man jokingly says as he hands me a release form, “Here, you have to sign this in case you die. This way no one can sue us.” My heart beats a little faster, I remind myself that we do the same thing for yoga classes. It’s just a formality. I sign the form and pile into the crowded van. A short drive and we are at the river bank. I was hoping for at least an hour drive to prolong the inevitable. The beach is filled with rafts and people in various states. Some are already in helmets, rafts are pushing off in small groups, and our group is milling around the boats while the guides begin to pass out life vests and paddles. We are instructed to put them on and cinch them tight. If it’s loose the scenario is that if you fall out of the boat and they try to pull you back into the boat,

 the vest will slide right over your head…..

I cinched it up so tight my ribs hurt.

We stand and listen to the safety tips:

If you fall out of the boat grab the line around the perimeter of the boat.

If you are floating too far from the boat keep your feet headed down stream 

so as not to bash your head on a rock.

If you find yourself under the boat, put your hands up and walk them to the edge 

until you can push the boat up and get out…..

at this point I’m looking around to see if anyone else is concerned.

 Nope, they look pretty calm.

On to the next rule:

If you find yourself under the boat and it’s not tipped over, do the same as above.

Wait? If I find myself UNDER a boat filled with people

I’m going to be so freaked out I will surely die.

My stomach is queasy from sheer terror now.

I lean over to Pete and say “I’m not sure I’m going with you.”

He pats me on the arm like I’m a fucking kid and says, “It will be fine.”

No, I don’t think it will be fine at all, but I keep quiet.

My mind is churning furiously and I notice that the other rafting company has given their patrons helmets. We don’t have helmets. What happens if I bash my head on a rock without a helmet?

Yeah, I don’t think this is a good idea at all.

I’m not sure if I was brave or I just didn’t want to be the only one to chicken out, but I stepped into the raft. I lodge my foot under the center flotation device as directed and I give Pete one final look as we push off to run the rapids of the Rio Grande…..and I’m sure you’ve already guessed that I had a great time.

Mother's Day is More Like Tim Burton Than Hallmark For Me

I wake hot and throw off the covers.

The sun is shining in through the window and I wonder what time it is.

My mind drifts to the approaching holiday. I’ve been pretty chill with Mother’s Day for the last few years, but this year, with all the emotional turmoil that has accompanied this move, 

I find my mother keeps floating to the surface.

I think we carry our moms deep within, like a disease waiting to blossom.

The last time we spoke was perhaps five years ago.

The caller ID says Betty Ball and I wonder why my grandma is calling.

I say hello and my mother’s voice is on the other end of the line.

It has been too many years to count since I have heard her voice,

but you don’t forget the sound of the mother.

She doesn’t ask how I am, how her granddaughter is, if I have cancer, if I’m happy, the plethora of things I would ask my daughter after a decade or more of not talking. She wants to talk about

 herself, about how I have wronged her,

about her terrible place in this world.

Another lost chance to mend this gaping wound.

 I hang up.

Lump in throat.

Willing myself not to lose my shit over her again.

It’s not her fault. It’s the disease. Insidiously pushing my mother out 

and replacing her with this person that I don’t know.

This weekend my heart aches for those of us who have mothers with mental illness, for those who are estranged, for those longing for a connection that will never be.

 Self pity is not a place that I like to visit for too long and I remind myself of all of the wondrous people that I can count on, and I think it’s time, time to shake this off and to love the people in front of me. Time to be happy exactly where I am, with exactly who I have in my life today. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. But today, and today I have too many people to count that support and believe in me. 

So why give so much power to one?

Here I am in Albuquerque....

I chose to give up a life I loved to come to Albuquerque. It took me thirteen years to create the life I left behind. I’ve never stayed anywhere for thirteen years.

The wanderlust runs strong through my blood.

The gravity of what I’ve done, leaving so much behind, sometimes burbles up to the surface just as I’m beginning to drift to sleep…. and I weep.

I was attached to being the yoga teacher in town that everyone knew. I was attached to being a college professor, when the reality is adjuncts come and go.

However, for a girl who should have been pregnant by nineteen, for a woman who wasn’t bound for college, a woman who should be working at menial jobs,

a woman who would still be smoking a pack a day,

being a college professor meant I’d made it out.

I’m suffering, but I know that I have the means to stop this suffering.

I will practice being in the here and now, accepting the changes that I have chosen to make 

and to believe in my own inner guidance.

Albuquerque was a conscious choice that I, and my partner, made. Now I need to slow my roll (my favorite quote with my kindies of late) and find patience. To look for the small, beautiful moments that arise each day, because there is always a beautiful moment if your eyes are open.  

Spaghetti Squash is Amazing Like This!

Update: My awesome sister-in-law Susie pointed out that a juicy tomato, such as San Marzano, are much better with spaghetti squash as it soaks up the juice. Here is an updated recipe.
One spaghetti squash (follow instructions below)
One 28 oz can San Marzano tomatoes
2 cloves of garlic
1 Tbl olive oil (two if you want to saute mushrooms, but Jayne is here so no mushrooms;(

Saute garlic in olive oil. Add tomatoes (add to mushroom is using them). Scoop squash out when cooked and pour the tomatoes over the squash. Serve with chunks of buffalo mozzarella and fresh parmesan. Yummy!!


It's my tradition to clean out the fridge before the holidays, which is always a culinary adventure. I pulled out a spaghetti squash tonight, never Pete's favorite, and cooked up a topping with other scavenged food items. Super easy, super low-fat, and super delicious....even Pete thought so!

Ingredients

One spaghetti squash

1/2 jar of your favorite spaghetti sauce

1 chicken breast, boneless, skinless

1/2 cup chopped bell pepper

2 Tbl olive oil

Parmesan cheese

Red pepper flakes (for those who like to spice it up!)

Cut the squash in half and scoop out the seeds. Place open side down in a baking pan and fill bottom with of pan with a shallow layer of water. Cook at 350 for an hour or so. Poke the top with fork, it's done when soft to the touch. Remove from oven and scoop out filling into a bowl.

Saute chicken in olive oil, adding the bell pepper (or whatever veggies you've got in the fridge) and cook until chicken is done. Cube the chicken and then return to pan adding the spaghetti sauce. Cook until warmed through. 

Serve the sauce over the squash and top with some good parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes if you like. It really was surprisingly good and filling too. Bon Appetite! 

Cautionary Tale to the Knowledgable Yoga Teacher

I'm new to New Mexico, but I'm not new to yoga. I've been practicing yoga since 1997 and teaching it since 1999. For the last thirteen years I've lived a short drive from LA and gloriously had access tomany accomplished yogis: Judith Hanson Lasater, Annie Carpenter, Max Strom, Pandit Rajmani, Shiva Rea, Amy Wheeler. I have taught yoga and Eastern Religion at the college level for the last twelve years, which required eight hours of training in my area of focus each semester. If asked, I would say I'm quite familiar with the mat, the poses, and the philosophy of yoga. Do I still have things to learn about yoga? Absolutely. I just don't see myself as a novice at this point in my practice, but a novice is exactly what I felt like last weekend.

I've been trying to find a place to practice yoga in my new hometown and it's not going quite as I had expected...once more my expectations are creating suffering. On Saturday I went to a class at a local studio to try out a teacher I had heard was “good”. I'm not an early riser so I was jazzed that I got myself up and out for a morning class.

It was a small group consisting of three of his regular students and myself. We started with a meditation, I was primed. I was ready to focus on my body, my breath, and to quiet the fluctuations of my mind. He instructed us (almost solely in sanskrit) onto our hands and knees for bitilasana to warm up with a series of cow/cat back. I was feeling the pose: fingers spread wide, fingertips pressing down into the mat, arms and calves lengthening, spine rounding methodically with each inhale and exhale. Then we were guided back to neutral position and led into extended table. As I stretched out my right arm, fingers lengthening to the front wall, my left leg reaching back, foot flexed, toes spread. I brought my awareness to my left hip and I consciously turned it down ever so gently, pulling the left side of my waist upward as I lowered the hip to level out my back and that's when it started. He approached me and suggested I turn my hip more toward the floor...what the fuck, I just made that adjustment myself...well ok, let me see if I can follow his prodding finger and move the hip even more. Moving away from me he leaned on the wall between myself and another student. Next up: ardha muhka shvanasana. I extended my hands ever so slightly from table, curled my toes under, and as I exhaled I lifted my bent knees off the floor and began to stretch out into my version of downward facing dog.We stayed for five breaths; my last breath was a sigh of relief as he moved to the other side of the room.

We were then guided through Surya Namaskar A...so far so good. I was starting to find some ease in my practice once more. As we took our first Anjaneyasana I was approached again and the teacher moved my arms to a bent elbow position putting me in a cactus arm position. He told me if I couldn't straighten my arms upward without lifting my shoulders I needed to stay in a bent elbow position. I noticed the rest of the class was already in cactus arms so I aligned myself with the rest of the class out of respect for the teacher’s instruction. He then moved his attention to my left hip asking me to rotate it forward more by prodding my left buttocks (nothing untoward). I could feel that his prodding was not good for my body and I said no, that I could not rotate it anymore and he moved on.

His critique of my poses continued throughout the class. My Marichyasana was wrong, in Bakasana I was instructed to pull my knees in tighter against my arms, in Dolasana I was quizzed on the levers in the body. He was relentless and I felt terrible about my asana, my breath, my total lack of knowledge.

For obvious reasons I had a difficult time quieting my mind in shavasana at the end of class.

The words “bad yogi” drifted by like clouds overhead. Then I realized 

there was very little critiquing of his regular students, only me.

As I discussed my discomfort with the class, it's my nature to assume there must be an issue with me, Pete gave me his opinion. He may be a knowledgeable yoga teacher, but he's not a good yoga teacher. There was only criticism of me, no praise; only arrogance toward me, no humility, and these qualities do not make a good yoga teacher. It was a reminder that just because a teacher knows their Sanskrit, that does not make them a good yoga teacher. Ultimately I think a good yoga teacher is humble and feels a connection to the needs of the students in front of them. A good yoga teacher should definitely realize when they are making corrections to the detriment of the students quiet mind. 

We Must Not Look Away

One of the most difficult things for me in our new hometown is the number of homeless people.

You'll find someone at most of the stop lights here with a sign pleading for help.

I have always felt deeply. When I was younger I employed

an avoidance tactic and I would look away when

I felt the pain of another being.

These days I never look away.

I make eye contact.

I smile.

I wave.

Anything to acknowledge that the person standing next to me exist,

that I see them.

As I drove home from Trader Joe's today there was a man at the light on Tramway. I was starving (the irony of that expression is not lost on me) and had opened a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. I was slowly popping one into my mouth as he walked by.

I waved and read the sign he was carrying “Any food would be appreciated. God Bless you”. I popped another pretzel in my mouth-this one wasn't quite so sweet-and I glanced into my bag to see if there was anything I could give to him. As the light changed he was walking back toward his shopping cart.

He stopped next to the cart filled with his life's belongings,

wrapped his arms around his body, and cried.

I drove home feeling like shit.

How could I pass by another human being in such pain?

I unloaded my groceries and then I made a sandwich. Piling turkey and swiss on fresh grainy bread then I pulled out some lettuce from our veggie keeper and slathered it all with olive oil mayo. I put it into a ziplock and got out a container of fresh pineapple from the fridge. I opened the pantry and found a power bar and added that to the bag of food. Armed with fresh, healthy food I drove back to the light but he was gone. I turned right onto Central Ave and there he was walking with his cart. I pulled into the McDonald's parking lot and jogged up the sidewalk to him. I said that I had seen him earlier and that I was sorry he was suffering.
I handed him the bag of food and said eat.

We must not look away from the suffering in the world.

In order to be the change we want to see in the world we must acknowledge that all beings are worthy of our love and attention and act accordingly.