Welcome to my guest house.
Sometimes life is hard.
The news is not good. People are awful to each other. Fear and hate seem to be winning and love and compassion become afterthoughts to feelings being expressed in 140 characters or 1000 word blog posts. There seems to always be a "spin" being put on the information we receive and deciphering this coded language is enough to make even the most hardy of folks weary and tired.
When life is hard, when the world feels like it is going to hell in a hand basket, I tend to curl up in a ball like a southern three-banded armadillo and wait for the "threat" to pass. I shut myself away from everyone and everything until I feel like I can come out and deal with it all again.
But today, I didn't.
Today was an odd day for me.
Today I looked outside of myself and tried to really see others around me and let them see me. Just regular people that I interact with in my day to day life. And yet today, because I opened up my shell a crack to let some of them in, they let me into their lives a bit too. Today was filled with moments with these people. Moments of clarity, of love, of acceptance. Moments when, for just a second, we recognized in each other that same scared little child, that hopeful kid, that barely-holding-it-together adult and said a silent, "I see you. You matter. Right here. Right now." to each other.
In yoga class, my friend Mandy shared this Rumi poem with us:
THE GUEST HOUSE
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
~~~~~
So be hard World.
I can take it.
I will welcome the pain and fear, because beyond that is healing and courage.
Take all you want from my house, so I can make room for new guests, new thoughts, new paths to forge ahead on.
Spin all your news however you think it will matter. I won't let it spin me, or my conscience, or my convictions.
Today I learned that curling up in a ball may protect me for a time, but opening up and letting people in, that is what is going to really change my world.
And maybe,
in some small way,
eventually,
I'll change the the Big Bad World out there too.
Peace,
n~
Filling up on and in Victoria, B.C.
Three days. It's not a long time, but three days with no schedule, no place to be except with each other and nothing but our own feet to take us wherever we felt like going was perfection. Downtown Victoria, British Columbia was the backdrop for our mini wanderlust. It was my first trip to this fair Canadian city and our first time away from both kids in a very long time. I fully admit that I almost bailed in the airport security line up on Thursday. I do not like leaving my babies, but there were too many people in the line behind me and I had my new LUG Weekender bag to break in so... on the plane I went.
When we were planning this trip a few weeks ago, I crowdsourced my friends on Facebook for recommended hotel accommodations. They came through like I knew they would, and we decided on the beautiful waterfront Inn at Laurel Point. Our room was huge, we had a nice big balcony overlooking Fisherman's Wharf and could watch the float planes take off and land every morning in the harbour. We ate dinner at Aura, the in-house hotel restaurant Thursday night and it was delicious! Scallops cooked to perfection and a creamy mushroom risotto for me and the pork sampler for The Consort (my new nickname for my husband, which I might shorten to TC in the very near future-see below).
Friday morning we woke up and headed out to explore our surroundings. One of the nice things about downtown Victoria (and there are a lot of nice things) is that you don't have to go far to find a place to eat. And most places in the downtown core are well within walking distance from the major hotels. Our very friendly airport shuttle driver told us that Victoria has the second highest restaurant count per capita in North America (after San Francisco) and after walking a good part of the downtown area for three days, I believe him.
We ate at some very cool and funky places. Breakfast and coffee at Wild Coffee. A place that spoke to my soul with the handmade wood furniture and giant Buddha head greeting you as you walked in. Lunch and chai at the family owned Varsha in Victoria's historic Chinatown district (which is really just one block). A waterfront walk and dinner at the Blue Crab, complete with, you guessed it, ALL THE CRAB!!
But I really want to tell you about Rebar. This restaurant, located downtown in Bastion Square, was recommended to us twice. Once by my friend Sarah, who raved about it and then again by a very friendly Victoria local who, upon seeing our obvious touristy-ness, stopped his morning bike ride, pulled up beside us and proceeded to give us recommendations for breakfast, lunch AND dinner for Saturday.
One block later we walked into Rebar and I swear to God, this place will be forever etched into my palate. I knew I was going to like it immediately because of the floral oilcloth tablecloths and the garage-sale-Elvis-tile-collage art piece on the wall. TC and I both ordered the Smoked Salmon, Dill and Creamcheese omelette and the juice of the day, a Smiling Buddha. I have no other way of describing this gastronomic experience other than this: every bite of this meal, and drink of the juice was like having multiple mini food-gasms in my mouth. I am not kidding, I actually moaned it was so good.
And then our waiter brought over their house-made peach and pear jam to accompany the sourdough toast and their spicy ketchup for the roasted potatoes and I moaned some more and may have thrown in an 'Oh my GOD!" for good measure. It really was that good people and I may have had dreams about it that night as well. Moral of the story, go eat at Rebar whenever you are in Victoria.
Our friendly cyclist recommended two restaurants for dinner. Zambri's for, as he put it, "The best italian food in all of Canada. " or Cafe Brio, a Canadian/Italian/local fusion cuisine, with an awesome wine list. I liked the look of Cafe Brio on their website and TC called and made us a late dinner reservation . The cafe had a wonderful old world ambiance to it and it did not disappoint. I chose one of their featured wines, the Trebella Meritage blend from the local BC winery, Church and State Wines. It was a beautiful wine, deep, fruity and smooth, just the way I like my reds. I may be hitting up their wine shop soon and ordering some online! The other nice option at Cafe Brio was that all of their dishes, from small plates to entrees, are available as half-sizes and half price as well. I ended up having half-orders of the Romaine Hearts salad and the Roast Duck Breast. The Consort had the Mixed Green Salad (with a surprise pickled celery ingredient) and the Seared Rare Albacore Tuna. Having the half orders also ensures that you leave plenty of room for desert, and you HAVE to have the Poached Pear and Chocolate Ganache. Trust me.
The food, the wine and the company was so good at Cafe Brio that I neglected to even think about getting pictures of anything. By the time we were done eating, the rain had stopped outside and we decided to walk the 20 minutes back to our hotel and soak up our last bit of Victoria. It was a bit of a chilly night, but full bellies, a warm hand to hold and loving hearts made for a beautiful walk along the waterfront.
Just so you know, we did do other things besides eat while in Victoria. We shopped at great local stores like Sitka and The Milkman's Daughter. We picked up some tea at Silk Road and a sampling of their new spa line as well. We found little gems like Fan Tan Alley in Chinatown and a local leathersmith who is now making TC a custom leather key holder. On a whim we walked into Miniature World located in the Empress Hotel and were rather blown away by this weird and wonderful attraction. And we took no less than a bajillion photos of all the teeny dioramas.
Victoria really was exactly what The Consort and I needed. A short getaway to fill our buckets right to the brim, to focus on ourselves, talk about how this past year has changed us, and make plans for a future that has four simple rules:
Simple, loving, graceful, and grateful.
n~
space
I should really write something.
Like a post about Blissdom Canada and my first speaking gig. Or a post about the bullshit that is going on with Gamergate and the horrendous abuse that women in the gaming world continue to be subjected to. Or how my much younger and newly single cousin just showed me what Tinder is and OH MY GOD!! I am so thankful that I am not in the dating world right now. Or how I have the best friends ever, because upon learning of my first trip to Victoria, my friend Sarah sent me TEN texts in a row full of restaurant and shopping recommendations. Apparently, we will be eating non-stop for three days!
Instead of writing though, lately, I have been organizing. Tidying. De-cluttering. De-STUFF-ING. I came home from Blissdom and cleared out 50% of my wardrobe (and posted most of it HERE). Today I tackled the linen closet and shoes. The kids toys are an ongoing project and get done once every three months. There is just too much stuff. And we don't need it. All of this unused or just-in-case stuff just sits in closets and boxes and drawers and the case never arises? It has to go.
~~~~~
Did I mention that I started meditating regularly? I think I did. And I think this new practice of mine may be part of why I am feeling this need to clear space. Literally. And while I am clearing all of these spaces, I am noticing that I am starting to feel lighter. The mind is a wonderful thing and when we use it to actually become mindful of our everyday thoughts and behaviours, the perspective this can provide is... well, for lack of a better word, kind of mind-boggling.
What I have learned is that when I stopped telling myself the same, tired old story over and over about myself, that is when I start to see the kind of changes I want in my life. When I stopped saying "I am just an impulsive person", I stopped making impulsive choices. Be they about food, shopping, work-out trends, over-volunteering, etc... When I stopped thinking that people only wanted to talk to me/be my friend because I am a "fixer", I stopped feeling the need to fix everyone and was more able to just be with people and accept them as they accept me.
The kids are even starting to get in on this mindfulness business as well. They have asked if they can meditate with me (I've found a few nice bedtime guided meditation videos on Youtube) and we regularly practice mindful eating at the dinner table. This is as simple as just taking a bite of food, putting down your utensil, closing your eyes and chewing and really tasting your meal. Bite by bite until your body tells you it is full. And really, isn't this how we should eat and enjoy all of our meals?
~~~~~
I was reading about the meaning of Mercury being in retrograde this morning and came across this explanation:
Mercury retrograde gives us time to catch up with ourselves, and reflect. Something from the past returns in a different form. People, ideas or buried insights that are keys to moving forward, float to the surface. Often it's felt as a slowed down, contemplative time, and depending on the sign, a chance to go over old ground again, to claim what you missed the first time.
Mercury has been in retrograde since October 4th and that seems to coincide with all of what I have been feeling and contemplating since I returned from my trip to Ontario. I've slowed down. I've needed this time to catch up with myself. I've cleared my spaces and perhaps after this weekend (Mercury moves out of retrograde on the 25th), I'll be ready to get all of those words and ideas floating to the surface once again.
I know this is a weird post and I swear, I had no idea where it was going when I sat down and typed that first sentence. But here is where I am. Breathing, clearing space, making room for all that is to come.
Namaste my friends.
N~
this is six: the reboot
Six years ago to the minute (it is now 8:55 PM), after about 7 hours of labour, I was fully dilated and about to start pushing. By 9:05 pm, I had delivered my second child, a girl. Our perfect, full-term, straight to the breast, easy-peasy girl. When my husband first told me that she was a girl, I felt two things. Panic and complete and utter surprise.
And then panic again.
How was I going to raise a girl? I only know boy stuff. I have a house full of boy stuff. I know how to change boy diapers. I can DO boy. And I fully expected to be doing all that boy stuff again with our second one - hence the surprise part of my feelings.
Under the surprise and the joy was the panic though. That first night, she latched on to my breast within 45 minutes of being born and only came off for a quick wipe down and check by the nurses. She suckled all night long (her big brother had kept my supply going throughout my pregnancy so there was no real waiting for my milk to come in). And while she did, I stared at her. I stared and marvelled and traced every inch of her tinyness and fell in love.
And yet, the panic was still there.
It wasn't so much the logistics of caring for a newborn girl baby that had me all tied up in knots (although the amount of dirty diaper wiping needed for girl babies versus boy babies is vastly under-reported in all the baby books!), it was the whole concept of RAISING a girl in this world that had me feeling ALL the anxiety. It was the feeling of being a previously (and most likely still) slightly broken girl raising another girl. That first night, all the thoughts of what her life would be consumed me. I thought of how I was going to manage to not pass on to her all of my own issues with self-esteem and self-worth? Of how I would be able to help her navigate a world that automatically sees her as an other, just for being born a girl? Of how I was going to be able to help her through the mean girl years - teaching her both how to not be one and how not be picked on by one? But mostly, I thought of how this was the universe telling me that what goes around comes around. That she was going to be my mini-me and I had better be prepared for that.
Dear Universe. I do so hate it when you are right.
She is a mini me.
Except, it's in all the best ways possible.
And while I still panic every now and then about raising my daughter in this messed up world of ours, it is somewhat less than what it was on that first day when I held her and stared at her for 24 hours straight. Not because our world is any less messed up than it was then, but because I am. And because I am fixing the broken parts of me, the ones that tell me that I am not good enough, not strong enough, not {insert ingrained pattern of belief here) enough, I am in turn raising a girl child whom I hope will never internalize those kinds of beliefs about herself.
At six years old, my own world came crashing down around me as my parents split up. No one was able to tell me why in a way that made sense to my then six-year old brain, and the messages about myself that I have carried with me ever since have been ones of low self-worth and un-lovableness. It is hard to unlearn 30-plus years of patterned beliefs about one's self. BUT... Because I see so much of myself when I look at my daughter now, in those hard parenting moments {and in the good ones too}, I get to stop and think of what six-year old me needed to hear those very many years ago and say those things to my own child.
I want the words that my daughter hears me speak to and about her now, to become the voice that she hears in her head as she grows up.
Loving words. Forgiving words. Kind words.
That is my birthday wish for her today and all her days.
My beautiful life lesson.
My gift from the Universe.
My girl.
XO,
n~
rocket science
Momentum. In physics it is defined as the property or tendency of a moving object to continue moving. In life, and figuratively, momentum can refer to the tendency of a person or group to repeat recent success. And in both, it can come to an abrupt stop when a large obstacle is placed in front of the moving object and it can be difficult to regain that momentum again.
This in how I have been feeling lately. Like I just can't get my momentum back. I feel like I am free-falling like Sandra Bullock in Gravity, floating and spinning in space with no way to get back to the space station. Basically, I need George Clooney to tether me and tell me what to do.
(Okay, so I don't really need George to tell me what to do, but as I type this, I suddenly see a whole new internet meme starting...)
At one point in the movie, when telling her about the re-entry vessel, George says to Sandra, "You just point the damned thing at Earth and go. It is not rocket science."
This summer we had a huge obstacle placed in front of us and normal life stopped. Thankfully, we all made it through that time and are now getting back to normal, but it is a new normal for all of us. There is a weird kind of comfort to being in hospital and having that cocoon of professionals and therapy schedules and routines protecting everyone from the real world. And then one day, you are officially 'discharged" and forced out of that cocoon to figure out how to fly on your own with your new wings. The rush and excitement and anxiety of getting ready for back to school and then the actual getting back to school has passed. Our new routines, the kids new activities and our new normals are starting to establish themselves in our lives. And yet, *I* still feel untethered.
A lot of my life feels like it is in auto-pilot and while I am doing all the things that need doing, I am not necessarily doing them, to use a term both my therapist and my yoga teacher like to use a lot, MINDFULLY. I get up, I get everyone ready for school, I drive them to school, I do the errands, I pick up the kids from school and take them to activities, I make dinner, I clean up, I do laundry, I watch TV/play Candy Crush/read, I go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I am finding it difficult to switch off that dial that has been on at full strength for the past four months. You know, the 'take care of all the things and all the people' one. Granted, as a mother, it is one that is never fully off, but I think I have to figure out how to at least dial it down a bit and turn up the one beside it called "take care of YOU". The trick is actually doing that and then not feeling guilty about it. Because the thing is, while I still have a role as mom and protector and wife and home-keeper to do, I have a larger role as Natasha too. And without her, all those other roles can't and won't be done with any sense of fulfilment and joy.
So.
Even though my momentum and personal growth journey may have come to a hard stop a few months ago due to circumstances beyond my control, now it is time to get going again. To pick up where things stopped and start/continue moving again.
Because George is right.
Okay George, whatever you say.
n~
eleven days
Every day.
I said I would write something every single day for one month.
It's day six. I've already missed one day and trust me, this is not really going to count for much.
I am tired.
Perhaps it is because my son will be officially discharged from the rehab hospital tomorrow.
And now I can finally breathe again.
Perhaps even sleep again.
~~~~~~~~~~
I want another month of summer holidays.
Ours just started.
I am not ready for the kids to go back to school. I mean, yes, I have purchased all their school supplies and new clothes and all of that. I mean *I* am just not ready. I want more lazy days cuddling in bed in the mornings and then wandering the zoo or the museum or the science centre for hours with no schedule to keep or appointments to go to.
I want to take off to the mountains for the weekend and walk trails and have little adventures and order room service popcorn and watch movies in a giant bed in our room at the lodge.
I want to have naps every day and then stay up late playing Wii games till everyone is exhausted.
I want to cook all our meals on the bar-be-que and have our friends over to play in the backyard.
I want more time to fill up the notebooks I bought in May with all the words that were not there for so long and are now coming back to me.
Eleven days until the first day of school. Eleven days until we have to leave the safety of our little nest and face the world again.
I need more time. I need more summer.
I am just not ready.
n~
Curves and Edges
There I was. Going about my day, taking one kid to camp and the other to his therapy appointments and I stopped for a minute to check my email. And there it was, right in the subject line:
"You're beautiful underneath it all."
Huh?
The email is from Lolë, a Canadian lifestyle company that I quite like and whose products I buy regularly (and therefore why I get their emails). It is an ad for their new "delicate, feminine underpinnings" line of products and I assume they are trying to say that what you wear under your clothes can be beautiful too. The problem is, that is NOT really what they are saying.
They are saying that *YOU* are beautiful underneath *IT* all. And maybe I am overly sensitive to this kind of thinking/speaking/messaging, but then again, maybe I am not.
"There is a skinny person in there just trying to get out."
"You've got lots of muscle tone, it's just covered up with that extra layer."
"Once you lose X amount of weight, you'll look and feel so much better."
These are all things that have been said to me in my lifetime.
Women are bombarded every day with these kinds of messages and with clothing options to cover our flaws, that use "slimming" technologies and push up or pull in various parts of our bodies to fit the styles and trends of the times and the ever present single layer version of beauty. We have to worry about muffin top, back fat, waving underarms, and the dreaded thigh gap. We are told over and over to love ourselves, no matter what size, shape, or colour we are, and then companies fill magazines and commercials and store shelves full of products and messages that are meant to help us change all of those things.
Love your skin, but here, make sure you remove all that hair, cover up/lighten those spots, and please! do something to smooth over all that cellulite.
Love your face, but don't let it get all wrinkly and *gasp* OLD!
Love your hair, but maybe it should be shinier, fuller, longer, and have more volume.
Love your body and go on and wear that bathing suit, but make sure it pushes up the girls, slims out your belly and here's a great video with 77 ways to use a sarong cover up, because really, no one wants to actually see that.
But don't worry, because you are beautiful underneath it all.
And we buy it. I buy it. I wear clothes strategically to cover my "flaws". I have a drawer FULL of anti-aging products to reduce fine lines, not so fine ones and everything in-between. And I have a love/hate... mostly hate relationship with my bathroom scale and what I think it tells me about me and my body.
I love this line from John Legend's song, All of Me.
'Cause all of me Loves all of you Love your curves and all your edges All your perfect imperfections
I realize that this is a love song about and sung to someone else, but sometimes when I am alone in my car and it comes on the radio, I'll turn up the volume really loud and sing it TO MYSELF. To remind myself that I have curves and edges and a lot of perfect imperfections. And that I love ALL of me. That all of me, JUST AS I AM, is worthy of love and happiness and that I am beautiful.
Not underneath anything.
Not despite anything.
Not when I am tucked in, slimmed down, covered up and/or made up.
And the same goes for you too.
You are beautiful. FULL STOP.
XO,
n~
A challenge and change and channelling my anxiety.
Ask me to drink 3 litres of water a day and I'll make it to maybe day four. Ask me to wake up one hour earlier than usual to meditate/workout/write and realistically I'll do it a few times and then be back to hitting the snooze button until small people insist that I wake up to feed them.
But...
Challenge me {for the third year in a row} to write a blog post a day for a month for the 2014 Summer Blog Challenge, and BAM! I am in. Again.
To be honest, I need a kick in the pants to get my writing mojo back. It has been lost for a while now as we were dealing with other life altering events this summer.
Daily blogging definitely is a challenge. And with school starting in a couple of weeks and the regular and some new {our first year with an IPP} challenges that this will bring to my life, will likely make it even more so.
So why do I do this then?
That is a very good question.
Because it is tradition now. Because I like to prove to myself that I can do it. And because every now and then, amongst the silly, last minute, "oh crap, I need to get a post out today" drivel that yes, I fully admit, you will get, sometimes a shot of brilliance will shine through. I'll have an epiphany and some divine power will guide my hand and I'll bang out something fan-freaking-tastic.
Today I spent most of the day cleaning the house and clearing it of the debris of life that has been collecting in unaddressed piles since June. The bags of all of my son's school work that his teacher lovingly packed up for us, the mail that has been sitting on my desk unopened along with all the unfiled bills and papers, the toys and books that have accumulated in all the tiny spaces that they can find to play together just like before. We tackled it all today ,and while it may not have seemed like it for everyone around here (read: there was much whining about when we would be doooooonnnnne), for me, it was a mixture of purging and nesting and wiping the slate clean to ready ourselves for the next chapter in our lives.
I am the most prepared that I have ever been for back to school this year. A couple of new outfits each and all the school supplies have been bought sorted and are ready to go. Every year, the beginning of the school year is like walking into a bit of an unknown (we don't get to find out who the kid's teachers are until that first day), but this year it feels even more so. Most people know that C was very sick and in the hospital, but few know the full extend of his illness or about his stroke/brain injury. He has expressed his concern to his therapists and to me about going back to school and having people ask him all about what happened and what he will say to them and he now has a list of answers that they came up with together and wrote down. I think I may have to follow suit as I am realizing that I too am feeling quite anxious about this as well. And when I get anxious about events or situations that are outside of my realm of control, I re-organize. I control my immediate environment and make it orderly and pretty.
Seriously people, my closet and my office have never looked better.
All ready to welcome back both me and my mojo!
So.... Here we go!
Subscribe to my RSS feed, sign up to get my posts delivered directly in your email every day (see box over there on your right), or find me on Facebook or Instagram (and maybe Twitter too, although my presence there has been sporadic lately - more on that in another post) because you never know which one of these posts is going to be the brilliant one!
XO,
n~
P.S. There are quite a few bloggers from all walks of life participating in the #SummerBlogChallenge. On social media we usually hashtag it as such or #SBC2014 or just #SBC. I'll have the full list of participants for you tomorrow if you'd like to check out some of their writing as well.