tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6650890092672667562024-03-13T00:13:19.335-07:00 Learning CurvesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.comBlogger152125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-90695728262109428672015-09-23T23:23:00.000-07:002015-09-30T07:53:28.357-07:00Modified Chair Yoga: Sun Salutations With a Broken Ankle Version 2As promised I've got the second version of seated Sun Salutations right here. This series involves the legs but requires little to no weight bearing on the lower extremities. It does, however, get the lower back and core engaged helping to get the blood circulating and muscles working. It can be used as a stand alone practice or done after the first sun salutation series I posted <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2015/09/modified-chair-yoga-sun-salutations.html">here</a>. The choice is yours...this is your practice. As always, please be sure to check with your own Dr. or PT to ensure your own safety. This is not meant to be a substitute for doctors' orders.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Prep work:</b></span><br />
<ol>
<li>Be sure you've discussed your restrictions and limitations with your
doctor or physical therapist. I'm neither of these so I cannot advise
you what you're able to do or not do.<i> Don't risk getting re-injured!</i></li>
<li>Listen to your body! If it hurts don't do it. If a pose isn't already in your wheelhouse and you find it challenging then <i>this</i> is not the time to try to learn it. </li>
<li>Find a chair or stool that you can comfortably use and allows you
some range of motion (armrests are limiting). Depending on how much
weight you can put on your injured limb you may need to have your seat
higher (or lower) to accommodate that need. Pillows or blankets might be
helpful and a yoga mat on the seat can help prevent slipping off of
your chair. I used a shower chair which has adjustable legs. This
allowed me to raise and lower the seat for different poses and at
different stages of healing. Many studios use regular metal folding
chairs.</li>
<li>You might find it more comfortable to use a block or book under your "good" foot to even things out.</li>
<li>Although sun salutations are meant to be a warm up I would suggest
starting your practice with a few minutes in Savasana, or corpse pose,
to connect with your practice and then moving into a few minutes deep
yogic breathing or Pranayama. Alternating leg lifts and puppy pose are
also a nice warm up addition. You can see these exercises <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2015/09/how-yoga-is-helping-me-heal-my-broken.html">demonstrated here</a>. </li>
<li>If your practice allows you might enjoy doing a few rounds of Sun Salutations Version 1 (found <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2015/09/modified-chair-yoga-sun-salutations.html">here</a>) before starting this version. </li>
</ol>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sun Salutations (version 2):</b></span><br />
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Starting with arms at the sides take a deep breath in and on an <b>exhale</b> place your hands in anjuli mudra (prayer position).<br />
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<b>Inhale </b>arms overhead:<br />
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<b>Exhale</b>, press your abdomen toward your spine (imagine your belly button trying to touch your back bone) and fold forward. Don't fret if you can't reach the ground. Instead, reach for your ankles or shins or even your knees. The idea is to add a stretch (without strain) to the low back and to compress the internal organs. <br />
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<b>Inhale</b> and rise up to a "half-lift" by pulling your shoulder blades toward each other, shoulders down. Imagine your chest and neck opening to the sky. Use the chair for leverage, if it feels right, by pushing the seat away and sending the chest forward even more. A slight arch in your back might happen, just be sure not to allow your head to drop back and pinching the neck. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1AgmO65ccb-Qsucx0w5dgDya59CJOsj-yH-sLMNdMCLWSyeKGQbwBr-7RvVd1FXvZ3E2ptTHuV1eJ5YRBNPdHDXV5sJyJiFZBl7oH4FwXze8LcYt9njJkFOEeI5lKlu-2QNJM6XiWW8/s1600/20150916_142840.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig1AgmO65ccb-Qsucx0w5dgDya59CJOsj-yH-sLMNdMCLWSyeKGQbwBr-7RvVd1FXvZ3E2ptTHuV1eJ5YRBNPdHDXV5sJyJiFZBl7oH4FwXze8LcYt9njJkFOEeI5lKlu-2QNJM6XiWW8/s640/20150916_142840.jpg" width="450" /></a></div>
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<b>Exhale</b> and bring your right knee up toward your chin grasping your knee. Bring your forward toward your knee. Again, if the range of motion doesn't allow full expression then do what you can. Perhaps your knee will only come waist high and the forehead will be far from touching the knee. It's okay. Just grab the knee at what ever level you can comfortably manage (safety first) and drop your chin to your chest.<i> Do not compromise your safety by forcing your body into a pose.</i><br />
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<b>Inhale</b> and, while still holding the knee in the same position, lift your chin to the sky. Be mindful of your neck and do not allow it to just drop all the way back as this can cause pain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEk_tX8lp0B3hAAARNXvDyZx-uSij7AdZS6l4RrDjVDACRgh9-a3oFZPOsS2WZMFdKkEehfz9NxrXrfgRLqc75-zFRvs62VvQ5WrrZSBTiIaA6VevCT4XvEnx_b3Up3qY-JKXtgwJ8UY/s1600/20150916_142913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEk_tX8lp0B3hAAARNXvDyZx-uSij7AdZS6l4RrDjVDACRgh9-a3oFZPOsS2WZMFdKkEehfz9NxrXrfgRLqc75-zFRvs62VvQ5WrrZSBTiIaA6VevCT4XvEnx_b3Up3qY-JKXtgwJ8UY/s640/20150916_142913.jpg" width="486" /></a></div>
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<b>Exhale</b> and place the right leg back down while folding forward, hands toward the ground.<br />
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<i>Inhale</i> to halfway lift:<br />
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<b>Exhale</b> and bring the left knee up, grasp it (if possible) and bring your forehead toward your knee. Be mindful of what your body will allow. There should be no strain, no pain, no pinching. You're engaging your core but for the most part this should feel like a release and nice stretch.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2je4affl9pJYgpBCPeN5lfBT1nvyRaJIOA1SoNyknZDf5Qo6q0y1TPdRa0OnxqwQ2sQJ4QIqWt5YCLZVhJV2e0LI_j6Z1riMym2w8s1AAuJgY26TDX9_NcldPHEJQVlSKi6xgp5Ff8Sc/s1600/20150916_142922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2je4affl9pJYgpBCPeN5lfBT1nvyRaJIOA1SoNyknZDf5Qo6q0y1TPdRa0OnxqwQ2sQJ4QIqWt5YCLZVhJV2e0LI_j6Z1riMym2w8s1AAuJgY26TDX9_NcldPHEJQVlSKi6xgp5Ff8Sc/s640/20150916_142922.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Inhale</b> and, while still holding the knee in the same position, lift your
chin to the sky. Be mindful of your neck and do not allow it to just
drop all the way back as this can cause pain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ahXP1fsbDVZAzaeXoUs2xYS-MFjOWVpfrNx29Z5hFa1aeAxZDhRhR5W7Pb8FN2QdXYy022s_q3RFz8mAGtYXNcEUdYf0Z7rX7hskMAlibmXwiPJKkEoiFlDiSMqUbX5UwKZ8jY5rlG8/s1600/20150916_142925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ahXP1fsbDVZAzaeXoUs2xYS-MFjOWVpfrNx29Z5hFa1aeAxZDhRhR5W7Pb8FN2QdXYy022s_q3RFz8mAGtYXNcEUdYf0Z7rX7hskMAlibmXwiPJKkEoiFlDiSMqUbX5UwKZ8jY5rlG8/s640/20150916_142925.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b>Exhale</b> and place the left foot back on the ground and fold forward toward the ground:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDR7avt-T5GCNGni6YrjrEwAu5Ql0pcB68kYuOZb8Zw9zwuyD_MRZxfhRhJb8G9jjr7FMV3OFe-GO13VA05URk3DzsZ1HzxxdUFoU4VGnrNUWFizxrKHJ9LsUt8E7gzR2EzE0L2y8lmY/s1600/20150916_142816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDR7avt-T5GCNGni6YrjrEwAu5Ql0pcB68kYuOZb8Zw9zwuyD_MRZxfhRhJb8G9jjr7FMV3OFe-GO13VA05URk3DzsZ1HzxxdUFoU4VGnrNUWFizxrKHJ9LsUt8E7gzR2EzE0L2y8lmY/s640/20150916_142816.jpg" width="554" /></a></div>
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<b>Inhale</b> arms back over head, reaching tall through the waist:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mN0uoy4srViVCSAuZH4pWsjr7lpg6lCewZ2kIvj7HTr1D2HzDZs-n_tPBVsZ5wCBVLU819Zj7MeeoM49PNeKuEwDaR5HyUoKEXtRxjzDNnBAYpGM1KYe0D9egGCCv0m11iVfE7WY8gI/s1600/20150916_142630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mN0uoy4srViVCSAuZH4pWsjr7lpg6lCewZ2kIvj7HTr1D2HzDZs-n_tPBVsZ5wCBVLU819Zj7MeeoM49PNeKuEwDaR5HyUoKEXtRxjzDNnBAYpGM1KYe0D9egGCCv0m11iVfE7WY8gI/s640/20150916_142630.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>
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<b>Exhale</b> back to anjuli mudra. Repeat this sequence 8-10 times (if possible):<br />
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<b>Final Relaxation:</b> A few minutes of Savasana (corpse pose) is the best way to end your practice. It helps connect you to your practice, aid in recovery, decrease blood pressure and heart rate, increase focus and decrease anxiety. Lay on your back in a neutral, comfortable position with your eyes closed...legs about mat width apart and arms away from the body with the palms facing up. If you can, go through a few minutes of tensing and then releasing the muscles of the body starting with the feet, the calves, the thighs and moving all the way up to the top of the head. Relax your internal organs, your forehead, your jaw, your tongue. Relax your mind. Turn your focus on the space between the eyebrows, feel your breath coming in and out of your nostrils. Relax, relax, relax. Stay here as long as you like.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplycDmyS8HEq0qkcvPGisMQmEzJY91FUVWwOinZZgnq2jkKoSPTw1_qq_8Mp1bW7U9j0xmjUhuWYfoC_j5F5i380j-_EWlU1c1zUruCZfozw1T_lDxKvqEl6G6JYf5RlRPqKBu4btQaA/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplycDmyS8HEq0qkcvPGisMQmEzJY91FUVWwOinZZgnq2jkKoSPTw1_qq_8Mp1bW7U9j0xmjUhuWYfoC_j5F5i380j-_EWlU1c1zUruCZfozw1T_lDxKvqEl6G6JYf5RlRPqKBu4btQaA/s640/lynns+phone+east+coast+209.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
When it's time to get up move slowly. Start by deepening your breath and then stretch your arms overhead, stretching as if you're just waking up in the morning. Roll to one side into a fetal position and rest here just a moment. and then slowly push yourself up to a seated position. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Summary Photo Sequence:</b></span><br />
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Note: Sun Salutations are meant to flow with the breath. This means that
for every inhale and every exhale we are moving to a new position.
However, if you find this difficult you may add breaths as necessary.
Just try to keep with the flow as best as possible and it will become
easier. This is your practice...it's not meant to be perfect, it's only
meant to connect you to your true Self. <br />
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I hope you enjoyed this photo tutorial.<br />
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Namaste.
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-23038041706550226152015-09-17T17:54:00.001-07:002015-09-30T07:58:44.064-07:00Modified Chair Yoga: Sun Salutations With a Broken AnkleThe first few days after I was home from the hospital <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2015/08/adventure-gone-awrybreaking-my-ankle-in.html">recovering from surgery and mending a broken ankle</a> I found myself struggling with my new lack of mobility. Granted, I truly was tired, and rest was certainly in order, but my body <i>ached</i>. Nights were restless as I tried to figure out how to lay without creating pressure points and days weren't much better since I had to keep my foot above my shoulders. And while I did get some relief from the few exercise I was initially advised to do it just wasn't enough for me. I needed my blood moving, my lungs expanding and to do some stretches that would counter the position I was forced to be in most of the day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcM0jn6NQl7zlfmPdt22pIavQX2YRHaGj_PiIBnKScr0e9_j3abVqaAzR10IT_EeniTI_h_oSkqdht9REjKnLqEL0mQ7r8Ooh6yMZ1sBw8dvHIcv6skHk_UfMaJlKfsyoRkfh5DH6oB0/s1600/20150817_222626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcM0jn6NQl7zlfmPdt22pIavQX2YRHaGj_PiIBnKScr0e9_j3abVqaAzR10IT_EeniTI_h_oSkqdht9REjKnLqEL0mQ7r8Ooh6yMZ1sBw8dvHIcv6skHk_UfMaJlKfsyoRkfh5DH6oB0/s640/20150817_222626.jpg" width="420" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking a few minutes out of the cast to "clean" up the foot. My husband has proven his love for sure!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I researched chair yoga...and wheel chair yoga...and researched some more. I bought 3 chair yoga books, read them and found that they weren't exactly specific to immobile clients but instead used the chair as a prop. In other words, <i>most</i> of the poses and sequences were for able bodied people who happened to use a chair for balance or to deepen a pose. So I researched some more and found my best results on...<a href="https://www.pinterest.com/search/pins/?q=wheelchair%20yoga&term_meta[]=wheelchair|typed&term_meta[]=yoga|typed">Pinterest</a>.<br />
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Since I found it difficult to locate what I needed online I thought <i>why not put together a series of blog posts in the hopes someone else might be helped? </i>And here we are! <br />
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Get your stretchy pants on and roll out your mat...we're going to do a true variation of Seated Sun Salutations! (The next post will be another variation of Sun Salutations so stay tuned!!)<br />
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<b>Prep work:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>Be sure you've discussed your restrictions and limitations with your doctor or physical therapist. I'm neither of these so I cannot advise you what you're able to do or not do.<i> Don't risk getting re-injured!</i></li>
<li>Listen to your body! If it hurts don't do it. If a pose isn't already in your wheelhouse and you find it challenging then <i>this</i> is not the time to try to learn it. </li>
<li>Find a chair or stool that you can comfortably use and allows you some range of motion (armrests are limiting). Depending on how much weight you can put on your injured limb you may need to have your seat higher (or lower) to accommodate that need. Pillows or blankets might be helpful and a yoga mat on the seat can help prevent slipping off of your chair. I used a shower chair which has adjustable legs. This allowed me to raise and lower the seat for different poses and at different stages of healing. Many studios use regular metal folding chairs.</li>
<li>You might find it more comfortable to use a block or book under your "good" foot to even things out.</li>
<li>Although sun salutations are meant to be a warm up I would suggest starting your practice with a few minutes in Savasana, or corpse pose, to connect with your practice and then moving into a few minutes deep yogic breathing or Pranayama. Alternating leg lifts and puppy pose are also a nice warm up addition. You can see these exercises <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2015/09/how-yoga-is-helping-me-heal-my-broken.html">demonstrated here</a> on my last blog post. </li>
</ol>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Sun Salutations (version 1):</b></span><br />
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Stating with arms at the sides take a deep breath in and on an <b>exhale</b> place your hands in anjuli mudra (prayer position).<br />
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On your next <b>inhale</b> sweep your arms overhead keeping your shoulders down (away from your ears).<br />
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On your next <b>exhale</b> grasp your left wrist with your right hand and, lifting evenly through both side of the waist, lean to the right. Try not to collapse your right side. Looking up to the left can help maintain an evenness in your sides.<br />
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<b>Inhale</b> back to center.<br />
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As you<b> exhale</b> grab your right wrist with your left hand. Lift through the waist and lean left (feeling the stretch in your right side). Again, try not to allow your left side to collapse.<br />
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<b>Inhale</b> back to center.<br />
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<b>Exhale</b> and sweep your arms down and then forward to a modified chair pose. The upper body will lean forward as if you are attempting to rise from your seat. Arms remain in line with your ears, neck neutral and eyes on a spot a few feet in front of your feet.<br />
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<b>Inhale</b> and cactus your arms creating a small back bend. Cactus arms simply means you move your elbows out to the side and inline with your shoulders. You will probably feel a nice stretch on the front part of your shoulders, your lats and upper back. Chin and chest move slightly forward (don't kink your neck) to help emphasis the back bend.<br />
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<b>Exhale</b> arms up overhead and return to your upright seated position and then <b>inhale</b> and stretch up tall from the waist.<br />
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<b>Exhale</b> and propeller your arms to the right while also twisting your upper body to the right. If possible, grasp your chair to deepen the twist. Try to keep the body upright without collapsing the right side. Keeping your eyes level and looking over the right should will help maintain the posture. <br />
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<b>Inhale</b> back to center, stretching up through the waist.<br />
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<b>Exhale</b> and propeller your arms to the left while twisting your upper body to the left. If possible, grasp your chair to deepen the twist. Try to keep the body upright without collapsing the left side. Keeping
your eyes level and looking over the left should will help maintain the
posture. <br />
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<b>Inhale</b> back to center. <b>Exhale</b> arms down. Repeat this sequence 8-10 times.<br />
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<b>Final Relaxation:</b> A few minutes of Savasana (corpse pose) is the
best way to end your practice. It helps connect you to your practice,
aid in recovery, decrease blood pressure and heart rate, increase focus
and decrease anxiety. Lay on your back in a neutral, comfortable
position with your eyes closed...legs about mat width apart and arms
away from the body with the palms facing up. If you can, go through a
few minutes of tensing and then releasing the muscles of the body
starting with the feet, the calves, the thighs and moving all the way up
to the top of the head. Relax your internal organs, your forehead, your
jaw, your tongue. Relax your mind. Turn your focus on the space between
the eyebrows, feel your breath coming in and out of your nostrils.
Relax, relax, relax. Stay here as long as you like.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplycDmyS8HEq0qkcvPGisMQmEzJY91FUVWwOinZZgnq2jkKoSPTw1_qq_8Mp1bW7U9j0xmjUhuWYfoC_j5F5i380j-_EWlU1c1zUruCZfozw1T_lDxKvqEl6G6JYf5RlRPqKBu4btQaA/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+209.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplycDmyS8HEq0qkcvPGisMQmEzJY91FUVWwOinZZgnq2jkKoSPTw1_qq_8Mp1bW7U9j0xmjUhuWYfoC_j5F5i380j-_EWlU1c1zUruCZfozw1T_lDxKvqEl6G6JYf5RlRPqKBu4btQaA/s640/lynns+phone+east+coast+209.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
When it's time to get up move slowly. Start by deepening your breath and
then stretch your arms overhead, stretching as if you're just waking up
in the morning. Roll to one side into a fetal position and rest here
just a moment. and then slowly push yourself up to a seated position. <br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Summary photo sequence:</span></b><br />
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Note: Sun Salutations are meant to flow with the breath. This means that for every inhale and every exhale we are moving to a new position. However, if you find this difficult you may add breaths as necessary. Just try to keep with the flow as best as possible and it will become easier. This is your practice...it's not meant to be perfect, it's only meant to connect you to your true Self. <br />
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I hope you enjoyed this photo tutorial.<br />
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Namaste.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-89151789016046872272015-09-12T22:13:00.000-07:002015-09-12T22:13:20.662-07:00How Yoga is Helping Me Heal My Broken Ankle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's a funny thing the thoughts that run through your head when <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2015/08/adventure-gone-awrybreaking-my-ankle-in.html">sitting on the side of a trail with a broken ankle</a>. Besides wondering how I was going to get off the mountain and to a hospital I also questioned <i>how I would ever trust my body again</i>. I imagined myself relegated to flat sidewalks, avoiding dangerous curbs and, of course, never hiking again. And while I'm currently several weeks from taking the cast off I still have doubts about my recovery...specifically, will I get my full range of motion back?<br />
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Yoga is a <i>huge</i> part of my life. I embrace it not only physically but also spiritually and emotionally. Or at least I try. The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yoga_Sutras_of_Patanjali">yogic principles</a> set the tone for my daily living and I honestly think this, combined with my meditation practice, got me through the accident and rescue with pretty much no pain or panic (it was actually a surprisingly magical experience). It was important to me to continue my yoga practice even with a broken
ankle. Obviously, I have many physical limitations so asana (or poses)
can be a bit of a challenge but yoga has so much more to offer through
the eight-fold path. However, the physical aspects of a yoga practice
are a living, breathing part of our being, meaning they can be modified
in ways to support our bodies regardless of our physical limitation. .<br />
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I wanted to share some of the ways I've kept my yoga practice central to my life while I recover mentally and physically.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl95NZmb30yRQAcstomcSaCoOZKCj7qPt7hdXj5RJje3VBq9T6q9UZ6zZd59XemR-pBPN3KWQK04OtiXAad4bE3NygflBOEjM9PmQQ93k74eqmhGdl6UMopmdWdmU6PU3bDT73L3CsvX0/s1600/IMG_20150808_143019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl95NZmb30yRQAcstomcSaCoOZKCj7qPt7hdXj5RJje3VBq9T6q9UZ6zZd59XemR-pBPN3KWQK04OtiXAad4bE3NygflBOEjM9PmQQ93k74eqmhGdl6UMopmdWdmU6PU3bDT73L3CsvX0/s400/IMG_20150808_143019.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKzb4onKa2teMGc_2GlNdCR-SGj-VLVBaannbfF9k8jOoqK3y6nHv8Gb8VraRqXiu-ofeNAzAYV03PagM_kg6jASFJ57-Q-fZ1_c7qQE9ZCcSQX1hyphenhyphenkBkEncYuqmuS4rjkcnggBpgjk4/s1600/IMG_20150802_161812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKzb4onKa2teMGc_2GlNdCR-SGj-VLVBaannbfF9k8jOoqK3y6nHv8Gb8VraRqXiu-ofeNAzAYV03PagM_kg6jASFJ57-Q-fZ1_c7qQE9ZCcSQX1hyphenhyphenkBkEncYuqmuS4rjkcnggBpgjk4/s640/IMG_20150802_161812.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My husband did so well feeding me while I was unable to cook for myself. This is the black bean burger and chop salad he served me for lunch the other day.</td></tr>
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1) <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Right Eating {<a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ahi%E1%B9%83s%C4%81" title="Ahiṃsā">Ahiṃsā</a>/<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitahara" title="Mitahara">Mitāhāra</a>}:</b> </span>For me this means vegan (or at least vegetarian) foods. I had allowed myself many "slips" during our visit to Alaska (prior to the accident) but<br />
once I realized the work my body had to do in order to heal I cleaned up my eating. My meals consist of fresh fruits and veggies (organic when at all possible), organic oatmeal and granola, plant-based protein powder (a supplement I opted for since I couldn't cook for myself early on), whole grains and legumes along with plenty of water and herbal teas (and no alcohol). I also started taking Biotin, a Calcium/Magnesium/Zinc supplement, large doses of Vitamin C, Symphytum Officinale (aka Bone Knitter) and occasional shots of aloe vera gel. I want the best fuel I can get so my body will have the building blocks it needs. Hopefully it's helping.<br />
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2) <b><span style="font-size: large;">Meditation: </span></b> My meditation practice was a work-in-progress prior to the accident but being laid up has given me the opportunity to recommit and refocus. I learned meditation years ago during a visit to the <a href="http://www.oaklandsyda.org/">Siddha Yoga Ashram</a> in Oakland, California. I practiced off and on (mostly off) for many years until I went to yoga teacher training at the <a href="https://www.sivanandayogafarm.org/">Sivananda Ashram Yoga Farm</a> in Grass Valley, California last year where I lived for a month. Twice a day we meditated for 30 minutes and I've done a semi-decent job of sitting once a day...about 50% of the time. Being incapacitated has certainly freed up my time and reminded me that meditation is a <i>required</i> component in my life. It's kept me from dipping into depression while being cooped up inside the RV day in and day out. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWYszYh6cOeFDgCTpf1TFHMHlAr_Vwg0ND-dj0iQg1ynsYivo5GmPF_A6U013JIPehBEbQ6rDTYsQ_TPMaCj2hBHaSWR8pulPcAD-41qOVpuJOUUR2MPCShyphenhyphen29kOcloO0ROsZTTBWrQU/s1600/Peter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWYszYh6cOeFDgCTpf1TFHMHlAr_Vwg0ND-dj0iQg1ynsYivo5GmPF_A6U013JIPehBEbQ6rDTYsQ_TPMaCj2hBHaSWR8pulPcAD-41qOVpuJOUUR2MPCShyphenhyphen29kOcloO0ROsZTTBWrQU/s400/Peter.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning from author Peter Russell at yoga school.</td></tr>
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After my accident I came across Peter Russell's <a href="http://www.peterrussell.com/HMWET/index.php">How to Meditate Without Even Trying </a>program on Facebook. Peter was one of my favorite guest speakers while at yoga school so I joined his course. I also received a copy of <a href="http://www.radhuleweiningerphd.com/">Dr. Radhule Weininger</a>'s Entering the Deeper Stream from a dear friend. Needless to say, there's no shortage of meditation material...and no excuses!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKEhxLlh0T-3NgyNL-AQCzSL7UZ5diB1vs7Tev-kLN84kRqPFesSzD04VEQ9WN93UkGHuNL3kKgZu-IWvHMRQ3R9ABIHMoIGUGV629-Om4RKZwO8Porc5XwBXj3Fw8S5f8sPTaQjoc1OI/s1600/IMG_20150901_140629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKEhxLlh0T-3NgyNL-AQCzSL7UZ5diB1vs7Tev-kLN84kRqPFesSzD04VEQ9WN93UkGHuNL3kKgZu-IWvHMRQ3R9ABIHMoIGUGV629-Om4RKZwO8Porc5XwBXj3Fw8S5f8sPTaQjoc1OI/s640/IMG_20150901_140629.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My finds after a visit to the used book store, Mountain Eagle, in British Columbia.</td></tr>
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3) <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Reading Positive/Spiritual Material {<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sv%C4%81dhy%C4%81ya" title="Svādhyāya">Svādhyāya</a>}:</b></span> I <i>love</i> to read. I can wrap myself between the covers of a book and be lost for hours. But I can also allow myself to be affected by what I'm reading...much like how one's mood can change after watching the news or a sad movie. Reading is a great escape but every once in a while I find myself grumpy or perturbed for "no reason" but when I sit and think about it my mood sometimes reflects the books I've been reading. While I've been recovering I've made it a point to read some of the <a href="http://www.yoganonymous.com/60-of-the-most-recommended-yoga-books/">recommended yoga and meditation books</a> I keep hearing about from fellow yogis and writers.<br />
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I'm certainly not going give up reading the variety of books I normally enjoy, even if they do affect my mood in a slightly negative way, but I am more focused on giving my mind and body all the positive vibes I can right now. Here are some of the books I've been reading: Wherever You Go There You Are (Jon Kabat-Zinn), Yoga Beyond Belief (Ganga White), SunLight Chair Yoga: Yoga For Everyone! (Stacy Dooreck), No Man Is An Island (Thomas Merton), Teaching Yoga Essential Foundations and Techniques (Mark Stephens), Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith (Anne Lamont), Police (Jo Nesbo)...yes, a little fiction is sometimes in order.<br />
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4) <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Pranayama:</b></span> Breath work is one of the pillars of yoga. It's also the one I dislike the most. Maybe it's because I often feel like I'm sitting there gasping for breath. Or maybe it's because sometimes it's really hard to breathe, count, hold, and remember which nostril I'm supposed to breath out of next. But prana is our vital life force and exercising our breath can be nothing but beneficial. Pranayama prepares us mentally for our other practices by concentrating our focus and awakening our soul. Trust me, I have some weird aversion to pranayama and sometimes "cop out" by only practicing deep yogic breathing but the key is to <i>keep on keeping on</i>. Practice other forms of breath work (some will likely require guidance...maybe through a yoga teacher, ashram or perhaps a respected online instructor...check out these pranayama specific videos at <a href="https://grokker.com/yoga/video/the-art-of-pranayama-breathwork/5218025616e55ca2440504f3">Grokker.com</a> (free), <a href="http://www.yogadownload.com/yoga-classes/online-pranayama-yoga-classes.aspx">yogadownload.com</a> ($29 annual membership with Groupon) or <a href="https://www.doyogawithme.com/yoga_breathing">doyogawithme.com</a> (free)) and you will reap it's benefits. After surgery I was given an incentive spirometer to help clear my lungs and to prevent fluid build up since I'd be on my back for weeks. It reminded me of my (neglected) pranayama practice and just how important it really is not just for healing, but for life itself. <br />
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5) <span style="font-size: large;"><b>Asana: </b><span style="font-size: small;">Most of us are somewhat familiar with yoga modifications. After all, not everyone can touch their toes or perform hanumanasana (the splits) so we use props, perhaps a strap, block or blanket, to help us deepen our poses while preventing injuries. Well, this injury has certainly tested my creativity and ability to find modifications that are "doctor approved". For the first two weeks I couldn't do much due to the severity of the fractures, surgical incisions that needed to mend and cast blisters that I didn't want to tear. I was on strict orders to not bear any weight on my right leg. But I was fortunate in that the physical therapist who saw me before I was discharged showed me a few safe exercises I <i>could</i> do without much pain. I asked about incorporating a few yoga poses, which I showed her, and got the green light. Over the next few weeks, as my blisters healed and the bones mended, I was able to do more poses, always listening to my body and embracing its limitations. </span></span><br />
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Here are the exercises I was given by my physical therapist. I was encourage to do these daily two days after surgery:<br />
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The first thing she showed me was how to lay on my stomach. After 3 days of being fairly immobile, flat on my back, it was such a relief to change positions. I could stretch my front body and release the tension built up in my lower back. Initially I was only able to do this on a bed (or platform) where my toes could hang over the edge. I soon started using my foam roller to support my leg so I wouldn't be putting any weight on my toes (causing pain). <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Sphinx Pose</b>: Great for opening the shoulders and chest while stretching the spine.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Low Cobra (Bhujangasana)</b> with foam roller support. You can also do this on bed on on a platform with the toes hanging over the edge. The foam roller actually changes the body alignment (not necessarily for the good) and causes the back bend to be deeper, which may not be ideal. Using the back muscles, as opposed to pushing up with the arms, strengthens the back.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Full Cobra</b>. Same principles as above with a deepening of the back bend and full front body stretch.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpNW206v9IiQ4vQwvuHSU8t0IGT-BZL67fKNQEKztfeyA6Q8984YMXA7VrxdAVHfk_n6Pt238idFEQ1_vwKWYP4fU7A1I06dztZmamdN_D2VDSYiO27o_a0cJ-1MASuhCQmu3AMrm948/s1600/20150821_163329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidpNW206v9IiQ4vQwvuHSU8t0IGT-BZL67fKNQEKztfeyA6Q8984YMXA7VrxdAVHfk_n6Pt238idFEQ1_vwKWYP4fU7A1I06dztZmamdN_D2VDSYiO27o_a0cJ-1MASuhCQmu3AMrm948/s640/20150821_163329.jpg" width="568" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Alternating Leg Lifts</b>. I was encouraged to start these exercises almost immediately. Lifting up on an exhale to the count of three and lowering on an inhale to the count of three. I also do double leg lifts keeping the small of my back pressed into the mat for protection.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2ASQlXp5qW4b6RS0aaMRT0howia3l1istZmK7TMXRxw4FJkwPmaSserv6epAQkZFL30kNUtOrbM7w8ujBuk0EHv2ZgjQg9A3e641voGCK4DqYzBvLHV-dLUtv6VRoNuCAQUkEUBVORc/s1600/20150821_163423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2ASQlXp5qW4b6RS0aaMRT0howia3l1istZmK7TMXRxw4FJkwPmaSserv6epAQkZFL30kNUtOrbM7w8ujBuk0EHv2ZgjQg9A3e641voGCK4DqYzBvLHV-dLUtv6VRoNuCAQUkEUBVORc/s640/20150821_163423.jpg" width="588" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Side Leg Lifts</b>. Leg lifts of all sorts (done correctly with slow, controlled movement) helps strengthen the muscles needed to maneuver around on crutches. You'll be relying on just one leg for getting out of chairs or on and off the toilet so that leg needs to be strong. But you also want to exercise the other leg (as much as allowed). That cast is heavy and takes a toll on the body just to lug it around. Keeping what muscles you are able to use toned will help with recovery once the cast comes off. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxMnuu88-wyYtrZEJn63DjZmqnj7sMfjttUnW0-95FN5Mpr2FbHHJuYsgGUaogWVqQld9byyXxXOhuVOWJct8DSIpraXSzjIbaucgZu_4xt96vJrCO2DRbGSQCVdFBcMMl7-4wKXUMLg/s1600/20150821_163649%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLxMnuu88-wyYtrZEJn63DjZmqnj7sMfjttUnW0-95FN5Mpr2FbHHJuYsgGUaogWVqQld9byyXxXOhuVOWJct8DSIpraXSzjIbaucgZu_4xt96vJrCO2DRbGSQCVdFBcMMl7-4wKXUMLg/s640/20150821_163649%25281%2529.jpg" width="596" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Extended Puppy Pose (Uttana Shishosana)</b>. A safer pose than down dog (since I can only use one leg) extended puppy pose is a great way to stretch the spine and shoulders.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLrUOERojgTDCOxfYppr7D9_krWJfqqc_A_PmyTDald7riwUZoSZ1EPLxBEm3wOZ4GMlZWVp1elE79yFKcGdvjGWiYV9O46es-4f3sflGfDTS5yFqI8lJWYqpGIqS4p5OAsf3vWoZRPik/s1600/20150821_163848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLrUOERojgTDCOxfYppr7D9_krWJfqqc_A_PmyTDald7riwUZoSZ1EPLxBEm3wOZ4GMlZWVp1elE79yFKcGdvjGWiYV9O46es-4f3sflGfDTS5yFqI8lJWYqpGIqS4p5OAsf3vWoZRPik/s640/20150821_163848.jpg" width="530" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Seated Forward Bend (Paschmottanasana)</b> is a great way to stretch the hamstrings, spine and shoulders. It also stimulates internal organs and can aid in digestion (great for people who are bed-ridden) while relieving stress and calming the mind. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxq-qldQSptmq7_LuMUa1xHe_r80JkwmO-WWN8j18CcmODQQxgEQh0xAmapCF5n1-ot8sxTq3_Dr840I94bZXFmWtBgDkU56s4bg65FfH69AuuAzB0FCopt8AGt9s8-NEPdXtTI-eC0E/s1600/20150821_162149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxq-qldQSptmq7_LuMUa1xHe_r80JkwmO-WWN8j18CcmODQQxgEQh0xAmapCF5n1-ot8sxTq3_Dr840I94bZXFmWtBgDkU56s4bg65FfH69AuuAzB0FCopt8AGt9s8-NEPdXtTI-eC0E/s640/20150821_162149.jpg" width="562" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Seated Spinal Twist</b> (modified with stool). If you can't bear any weight on your injured leg raise the height of your stool or sit on the edge of your bed, legs dangling. Try to keep the hips and knees even and facing forward while you twist the upper body (from the waist up) to either side. Move slowly. With an inhale stretch up and lengthen through the sides and with an exhale twist, keeping that length you just created. Hold and breathe several breaths...lengthening on the inhales and twisting deeper on the exhales. Be sure to twist to both sides. Twists aid in digestion, stimulate internal organs, relieve muscle tension in the back, neck, and hips and can even help alleviate sciatic pain.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2XW8UnhZqbAQNRNoWJZruMqXg7rvNV50vYhJnil3qZzGUtND5vRURECJHgyduaIKx-FPF8npxk9taS32EIt4oJB1lmYe1Ip4KpJyqdSg9egjF0v4Oh61lLHUIqWKdyuEo-LF2b1nzS4/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF2XW8UnhZqbAQNRNoWJZruMqXg7rvNV50vYhJnil3qZzGUtND5vRURECJHgyduaIKx-FPF8npxk9taS32EIt4oJB1lmYe1Ip4KpJyqdSg9egjF0v4Oh61lLHUIqWKdyuEo-LF2b1nzS4/s400/lynns+phone+east+coast+209.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Corpse Pose (Savasana)</b>: It's strange how laying perfectly flat on the ground can feel soooo good after laying around all day on the couch with your leg elevated. The benefits of savasana are numerous and include lowered blood pressure, stress relief, relaxation and a grounding feeling that can help with connecting to the self.</td></tr>
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I'll soon be adding new blog posts with more Modified Yoga poses
including seated Sun Salutations. It's my sincere desire to help anyone
else who is facing similar challenges and seeking to overcome their fears and
maintain a practice. Yoga truly is for every body...<br /><br /><br /><br />Further reading on <a href="http://www.dlshq.org/download/yogadaily.pdf">Yoga in Daily Life</a> by Sri Swami Sivananda<br /><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-7008014662495178962015-08-11T11:36:00.000-07:002015-08-11T11:43:46.734-07:00Adventure Gone Awry...Breaking My Ankle in the Alaska Wilderness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_fMxd7WlplTdbuKpk8gN9SyzR_uDW4-nw5jz8z2EKC2P_B7G36a-yS1hVQIXPrGEmH5782c6OH_12_IUb-w3AcUqCc8KmaZ-8jvkJdImGAxi7IYunLKBLqaA2JAGai8o3x-6gTjoV9E/s1600/_DSC5906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_fMxd7WlplTdbuKpk8gN9SyzR_uDW4-nw5jz8z2EKC2P_B7G36a-yS1hVQIXPrGEmH5782c6OH_12_IUb-w3AcUqCc8KmaZ-8jvkJdImGAxi7IYunLKBLqaA2JAGai8o3x-6gTjoV9E/s640/_DSC5906.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging at the bowl on top of Mt. Marathon with Nikki and Jason Wynn.<br />
Photo courtesy of Nikki and Jason Wynn</td></tr>
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There wasn't much pain when I heard the popping noise from my ankle. It was mostly shock and disbelief. Here I was, hiking down the notorious Mt. Marathon in Seward, Alaska with my husband, Clark, and friends, Nikki and Jason Wynn (fellow fulltime travelers from Gone With the Wynns), on a drizzly evening when I took that single, fateful step. Just a few hours before we'd climbed up the mountain, along with a hundred or so others, to watch a local band, <a href="http://blackwaterrailroad.com/">Blackwater Railroad Company</a>, perform a little concert (it was amazing!!). It was surreal. I mean, how often can you say you hiked 2 miles, gaining 2000+ vertical feet, to party on top of mountain with a bunch of other hikers? We were surrounded by an alpine meadow full of wildflowers and a waterfall taking in the experience...great music, dancing, dogs running and playing...it was an unbelievable scene. <i> </i><br />
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<i>That was two weeks and two days ago today and as wonderful as that experience was what transpired afterward was one of the most amazing things I've experienced in my entire life. </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWx5m_wxlxFewaxdpZ-9UxzMoTh6IbDyWc7EqmVUqSQFZ6xjftrsB9hzunsPYK9k68WRRFw7g0gUBRR-a7dUGoFPguRXHhMvX6SDQZN4H36J34kfq_7DBtEaVgwpXTqqQwwTKcAiaBdT0/s1600/Mt.+Marathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWx5m_wxlxFewaxdpZ-9UxzMoTh6IbDyWc7EqmVUqSQFZ6xjftrsB9hzunsPYK9k68WRRFw7g0gUBRR-a7dUGoFPguRXHhMvX6SDQZN4H36J34kfq_7DBtEaVgwpXTqqQwwTKcAiaBdT0/s640/Mt.+Marathon.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking up, up, up through the fireweed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNdxZ57J5K1S0gf1ueP40-G8IjYR_SNUpmBizTIoNZrXwx0r2AUnWYB91FVKsQ2z6QG991xdKB8hFtRJy__06bl6AxLpSNE6Pt2wbeiAs8kMxPwfxYajVL1tPpYOLmtUbmjL_dx-XrSU/s1600/Mt.+Marathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMNdxZ57J5K1S0gf1ueP40-G8IjYR_SNUpmBizTIoNZrXwx0r2AUnWYB91FVKsQ2z6QG991xdKB8hFtRJy__06bl6AxLpSNE6Pt2wbeiAs8kMxPwfxYajVL1tPpYOLmtUbmjL_dx-XrSU/s640/Mt.+Marathon.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of the shale path. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMAdneOwFZrs420o5tp4zw0W1Rj68fuZM65f1a2DDr-MWEoAdE8C98gy8THEhluTplNlpZOPdTrtevYf-T0fVKwvEJHUaV1hyphenhyphencSmim9a6J_3po0dmU1vIwDOmtRVd_vBsERKv95qFUCwQ/s1600/Mt.+Marathin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMAdneOwFZrs420o5tp4zw0W1Rj68fuZM65f1a2DDr-MWEoAdE8C98gy8THEhluTplNlpZOPdTrtevYf-T0fVKwvEJHUaV1hyphenhyphencSmim9a6J_3po0dmU1vIwDOmtRVd_vBsERKv95qFUCwQ/s640/Mt.+Marathin1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bowl.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzA4V-QIcANw2RMdEZrE3IrMzaLNFhFbxRikgAx439zJ6u5FIlejF1Eq_zsDErnD-VlT-cntlHbVaTJoNFOGYhmbAEGdrmLt5H2JcucBhomTSnS3uEVlyw-qV9BBc1M3JgNnKJYnozXzc/s1600/Mt.+Marathon1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzA4V-QIcANw2RMdEZrE3IrMzaLNFhFbxRikgAx439zJ6u5FIlejF1Eq_zsDErnD-VlT-cntlHbVaTJoNFOGYhmbAEGdrmLt5H2JcucBhomTSnS3uEVlyw-qV9BBc1M3JgNnKJYnozXzc/s640/Mt.+Marathon1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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Once the concert ended we'd made it about a half mile down the shale face of the trail without trouble. The trail was wet and quite slippery. I'd already seen a few people with muddy butts and knew we still had another mile and half of pretty hairy footing before we were safely on terra firma. As careful as I was it still happened...my foot slipped off a root. There were 5-6 pops. I grabbed for my right ankle and knew immediately that it was broken as my foot turned at an all too sharp angle. I sat down on the side of the trail as Clark ran toward me. <br />
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I knew not to look at it...I have a "weak" stomach and was hoping to not embarrass myself by passing out. I was already berating myself knowing I just caused my husband and friends a <i>huge</i> inconvenience. <i>How on earth was I going to get off this mountain?</i> My other thoughts were <i>1- How will I ever be able to trust my body again if it can break so easily?</i> and <i>2- I think I'm going to poop my pants...please God don't let me poop my pants on top of everything else.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRVCa0JGdlAc-jsFaIlUaiuhs3__9GyW5ufGf8qRSsHw8MglgMNzt27ouq0jLoGM_gYjUItdFihix-SsYSYYspb02VwdStODFLXCg7zSn2_9zu5LqEJWRz_6rm0k8i0fXQERGHvMgiyg/s1600/DSC01064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRVCa0JGdlAc-jsFaIlUaiuhs3__9GyW5ufGf8qRSsHw8MglgMNzt27ouq0jLoGM_gYjUItdFihix-SsYSYYspb02VwdStODFLXCg7zSn2_9zu5LqEJWRz_6rm0k8i0fXQERGHvMgiyg/s640/DSC01064.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Nikki Wynn</td></tr>
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But then something beautiful happened. Within minutes a man stopped to help. He identified himself as an EMT or mountain rescue (parts of the night are a blur) and immediately started to assess my injury. His dog, Lady, lay next to me, comforting me. Nikki and Jason didn't hesitate to take charge of things too, directing other hikers to a side trail to avoid walking over me, and calling 911. In the meantime, Clark was by my side making sure I wasn't freaking out and assuring me I'd not only get off the mountain but that the doctors would be able to fix me right up. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcCRE7Tmc0r8miA1ivbPyKUJ6iSCUR7ow29IUuCNzyyogiGpoovR2mxdQNQ6iVLoc73f-0N-eV64Kic-vcMHjwNlxMdRNUq5fkpZC0MxpgbC8fmL97SXOZxRRpy1r_NGP05eP-2Uuloc/s1600/DSC01087.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHcCRE7Tmc0r8miA1ivbPyKUJ6iSCUR7ow29IUuCNzyyogiGpoovR2mxdQNQ6iVLoc73f-0N-eV64Kic-vcMHjwNlxMdRNUq5fkpZC0MxpgbC8fmL97SXOZxRRpy1r_NGP05eP-2Uuloc/s640/DSC01087.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady was very worried when the humans started to lift me...she came over to check that I was okay.<br />
Photo courtesy of Nikki Wynn</td></tr>
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Then more people stopped to help. It seemed as though half the people who had gathered for the concert were either EMTs, mountain rescue, ski patrol, WFRS (Wilderness First Responders) or part of the <a href="http://www.sewardambulance.com/">Seward Volunteer Ambulance Corp</a>. As great as it was to be surrounded by so many capable people I have to admit I got just a little tired of repeating what happened while they all proceeded to take my pulse at the broke ankle (ouch). One guy, Ben I believe his name to be, had been super prepared and had not just one but <i>two</i> splints in his backpack...as well as two wool blankets (even the other first responders were shocked...who brings splints to a concert??). While we waited for the rescue team to arrive with the stretcher I was very well taken care of by these, dare I say it...<i>angels</i> (even if some of them might have been a bit tipsy).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokKfwAwLoSsC05St2q_8wCuW1lOvdQku0cpdMx3hfzGrioTAJ460QpgofYHevFjKOUUyfbYkl-LyaPKLHaBLvUExAlC2i0zYxQbwUIWyqUO2F2XpH-SEdNUu8qDFxxX513XJPkfIdvZk/s1600/DSC01106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokKfwAwLoSsC05St2q_8wCuW1lOvdQku0cpdMx3hfzGrioTAJ460QpgofYHevFjKOUUyfbYkl-LyaPKLHaBLvUExAlC2i0zYxQbwUIWyqUO2F2XpH-SEdNUu8qDFxxX513XJPkfIdvZk/s640/DSC01106.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One thing's for sure, the views were amazing.<br />
Photo credit: Nikki Wynn</td></tr>
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Due to low clouds a helicopter was out of the question (darn it, I've never been in one of those). It took about 45 minutes for the Seward Volunteer Fire Department to arrive on scene. They were only able to drive their Jeep up the trail a mile before the rescue crew was forced to hike in. Once they arrived Amy (hero!) explained everything that would happen and how the rescue would take place. These men and women were going to painstakingly carry me off that mountain to where the Jeep waited. I was strapped onto the stretcher and prayed no one else would get hurt carrying me down to safety.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYctYWVEMzigmOCHnppLIfzJxAuzkP1o6Ml1NQ6DCJCeygRG5Gq7E6YiN-VAjMOkQuZMjWLVt7Mj5Gwcp9DcqwxPpMe7yu-mob0gaN_Sd9me3jH0PvJ-oWVQmRP8NqoB9WPXj8S1-F5I/s1600/DSC01075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtYctYWVEMzigmOCHnppLIfzJxAuzkP1o6Ml1NQ6DCJCeygRG5Gq7E6YiN-VAjMOkQuZMjWLVt7Mj5Gwcp9DcqwxPpMe7yu-mob0gaN_Sd9me3jH0PvJ-oWVQmRP8NqoB9WPXj8S1-F5I/s640/DSC01075.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting strapped in with Amy looking on. Photo courtesy of Nikki Wynn.</td></tr>
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At times the trail was so bad people fell (thankfully none were injured). At other times it became so dangerous that instead of walking the stretcher down everyone would line up on the trail, plant their feet and then pass the stretcher through until there was better footing. I later found out that some of the volunteers were actually helping to hold the other up so they didn't slide off the mountain too. As I passed through all of these hands I couldn't help but to stare into each face, offering my thanks as I tried to hold back tears of gratitude (okay, and maybe asking that they don't drop me).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7BzJ0BUGjy2uM0C_P0DUsK9B3BL_OiEK4bRgn_LHFW-rnbO2bvLu0aeFTU4lrkTk86a2GTU21qz9q222AuyaFVBWV6OYbhvbTWu_nrKaCQL1yhhBTyjG9LKwCmc9VqPqF04V3P3R0vg/s1600/_DSC5941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ7BzJ0BUGjy2uM0C_P0DUsK9B3BL_OiEK4bRgn_LHFW-rnbO2bvLu0aeFTU4lrkTk86a2GTU21qz9q222AuyaFVBWV6OYbhvbTWu_nrKaCQL1yhhBTyjG9LKwCmc9VqPqF04V3P3R0vg/s640/_DSC5941.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many amazing volunteers took the time to help me...it was unbelievable and unforgettable.<br />
Photo courtesy of Nikki Wynn</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Believe it or not there was a lot of joking and small talk as well. I was offered a piece of chocolate and asked about our visit to Seward and our RVing adventures. I learned about a few of my rescuers...that Amy and her boyfriend (another volunteer) were going to be visiting Southern Utah (a favorite spot for us too) in the next couple of months and that Isaac, an EMT was one of the singers in the band we had all just watched perform on top of the mountain(we tried to get him to sing...and then they tried to get <i>me</i> to sing, bad idea). And I saw people make true sacrifices to save me as mosquitoes feasted on their blood and tree limbs scraped against their arms. It took hours to get to the Jeep and they all worked so hard, straining muscles and wiping sweat from their brows...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRrGbFm6wpW1J7xvdWVrK6ajlFx_xwB2rfn9D-WVE8WUJXEZDtKgWJYyWdQx_wsmh3f-TOcWVI-OnGIYSfDSKu9meoipgZ7CJLXHWf00U2hNBkh5LbGV14V6FcGIhWxadUAihXGCzTFw/s1600/_DSC5948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzRrGbFm6wpW1J7xvdWVrK6ajlFx_xwB2rfn9D-WVE8WUJXEZDtKgWJYyWdQx_wsmh3f-TOcWVI-OnGIYSfDSKu9meoipgZ7CJLXHWf00U2hNBkh5LbGV14V6FcGIhWxadUAihXGCzTFw/s640/_DSC5948.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We finally made it to the Jeep...only a mile or so down the trail and to the hospital.<br />
Photo courtesy of Nikki Wynn</td></tr>
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I made it to the Seward Emergency Room, a block from the trail head, 4 1/2 hours after the accident, arriving just after midnight. Although I had relatively no pain I was given and IV along with pain meds so they could assess my leg and take x-rays. Shortly after I was told that the damage was too severe for them to treat there and surgery would be required. The fog presented a problem as the medevac wouldn't be able to fly until sun up. At one point the ER doctor got a little rise out of me when she talked about the possibility of a Coast Guard evacuation if it was necessary to save my limb.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first x-ray show two fractures and severe dislocation.</td></tr>
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But it turned out I had plenty of feeling in my foot and since my pain level was low I would be able to rest somewhat comfortably until morning. My right ankle was placed into a plaster splint but no adjustments were made. I tried to sleep for the few hours I had before the plane would come for me. In the meantime, Nikki and Jason had gone to check on our pets (we had traveled by RV to Alaska and have two cats and a dog with us). Clark waited until we had some kind of game plane and then eventually went back to the RV to gather some of my personal belongings. Then he too tried to get some rest.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the plane from Seward to Anchorage.</td></tr>
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Some time after 9am the LifeMED arrived at the tiny airstrip in Seward. Once again Isaac, the singer/EMT, showed up to transport me via ambulance to the plane (apparently he didn't sleep much either). The amazing LifeMED Alaska crew and paramedics secured me in the back of a plane so small that not another person could have fit (I think there were 5 of us including me). They also gave me some pretty good drugs while I joked that this was some strange way for me to finally get an aerial view of Exit Glacier (not knowing that we actually would fly over it). One of the paramedics was nice enough to grab my cell phone and snap a couple of photos for me...and of course, I took a selfie in the plane. After all, it's not every day you get airlifted in an emergency situation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaw2YCfNfmMe4b-8f2s9VR8e9PPwtOUBpghMKEyFaA44rOjkn3N_BgKJzwpkr-IymQ58EEqY8_hhOpZNebFSWbWUEehAq4XT6Ch_suDKosMQSq0YI52VQXOs-yQR52-mmA5I7IwiUrBes/s1600/cast2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaw2YCfNfmMe4b-8f2s9VR8e9PPwtOUBpghMKEyFaA44rOjkn3N_BgKJzwpkr-IymQ58EEqY8_hhOpZNebFSWbWUEehAq4XT6Ch_suDKosMQSq0YI52VQXOs-yQR52-mmA5I7IwiUrBes/s640/cast2.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exit Glacier from the plane.</td></tr>
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A short ambulance ride from Anchorage International Airport and I was in the ER at Providence Alaska Medical Center where I had the best care I could have hoped for. Eric, my nurse, was super supportive and told me exactly what was happening. Since Clark was having to move our RV from Seward to Anchorage all by himself he hadn't arrived yet but Eric made sure I was comfortable and pain-free when it came time for the doctor to do something called a "reduction". A reduction is basically a resetting of dislocated and fractured bones...and it happened to occur while I was awake. However, Eric administered a drug called Versed which has an amnesia affect so even if it <i>did</i> hurt, I don't remember any of it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuue4pUoYMDAI9ZQhJ-eY8O9dhnKAGhb7H4YWEB1qy8ZfrYZaWc4MiHrIsZPFDP9ty36do3h6vA4xaFArKMNGv88JdB9qH9bhfx-0M8DaqX0WQbbvDbSZnh4uCzGihD9ldUNHMBKrrJY/s1600/cast3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuue4pUoYMDAI9ZQhJ-eY8O9dhnKAGhb7H4YWEB1qy8ZfrYZaWc4MiHrIsZPFDP9ty36do3h6vA4xaFArKMNGv88JdB9qH9bhfx-0M8DaqX0WQbbvDbSZnh4uCzGihD9ldUNHMBKrrJY/s640/cast3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My swanky room at Providence Alaska...I somehow managed to get the whole room to myself..and had some great views. I was still awaiting surgery at this point.</td></tr>
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By early afternoon I was in a room and awaiting surgery. Clark had arrived and then went to get something eat and take a nap. The poor guy was working on less sleep than I was and he was still having to take care of everything. A little after 8pm, 24 hours after the accident, I was wheeled into the OR and underwent surgery where I received some screws and plates to hold my ankle together. A day later I worked with a physical therapist to practice with crutches, tackle some stairs and learn a few safe exercises which consisted of leg lifts, leg extensions, side leg lifts and leg curls on my stomach. I asked if I could add in a few simple yoga poses like cobra and updog (sans feet) and got the go-ahead. Two days later I was discharged with my very own crutches and a <strike>hundred</strike> ten pound splint.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxnjOxNf7T47PPn3rwAZHAA01c4JWY-az03Z7XanYa8z9DfwZXQCNnrDDALDynxf7jAhEyMuIdgQ69rG3N_HgBrtUHUSZNccg0vQk22AE8dA7qXvU9wz6m2qRneUITL3ddz5gnuX2HBE/s1600/11792009_10153475929099144_6329202553741044371_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxnjOxNf7T47PPn3rwAZHAA01c4JWY-az03Z7XanYa8z9DfwZXQCNnrDDALDynxf7jAhEyMuIdgQ69rG3N_HgBrtUHUSZNccg0vQk22AE8dA7qXvU9wz6m2qRneUITL3ddz5gnuX2HBE/s640/11792009_10153475929099144_6329202553741044371_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All better now.</td></tr>
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Prior to this I had never even been inside and ambulance. I had never broken a limb either. Suffice it to say I hadn't been medevaced. A few weeks before this accident, while in McCarthy, Alaska, a tour guide had said something that stuck...<i>people come to Alaska to face their fears or challenge themselves in some way</i>. I probably shouldn't have taken his words so literal.<br />
<br />
I've received an amazing outpouring of love, support and prayers from hundreds of people...some of whom I haven't even met (yet). I cannot begin to thank all of you for your care and concern. It is as humbling as it is heartwarming. Everything about this accident (aside from actually breaking my ankle) has been magical and all of the pieces have fallen into place (no pun intended). The story sounds too good to be true...an adventure of a lifetime, lessons to be learned, and faith in humanity restored all wrapped up in a crazy mountain top concert and rescue. I still pinch myself to see if it was all a dream. Alas, my aching ankle reminds me it isn't. <br />
<br />
<br />
I'd like to take a minute to thank our friends and fellow RVers who
helped us get through the first few days of this accident. Thanks to
Jeanette and Eric of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jenericramblings?fref=ts">JenEric Ramblings</a> for taking care of our animals and informing other friends of the incident. Thanks to Josh and Marie of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jenericramblings?fref=ts">Ardent Camper</a> for visiting me in the hospital and bringing me gifts. Thanks to Taylor and Beth Bank of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/learningbanks?fref=ts">The Learning Banks</a>
for the coffee, food and lovely apron for Clark...also for all of the
generous offers to help us with household chores. A big thanks to Nikki
and Jason Wynn of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/GoneWithTheWynns?fref=ts">Gone With the Wynns</a>
for convincing us to go on this hike...I mean, for not only keeping
your cool and calling 911 but for your help in literally carrying down
that mountain, taking photos (despite the dirty looks from some of the
rescuers), walking the dog and bringing me homemade lattes. Also, to my
husband, who pretty much has to take care of me no matter what, I am
still forever grateful for how he has unselfishly taken care of me. From
buying groceries to cooking my meal, from helping me get dressed to
washing dishes, and for holding me in his arms when I feel overwhelmed
and sorry for myself...he has been my rock. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODeoDmt3ss4eURwkRYyyPd_QQtsvAEGbxq4xH2-7cZXcztPalNE3tfBDJlEvbzO8B62hmXY6nSygKIPVC5GLIzMuAPMP5v1VZSUL32ZNOe8exMklCSDlpFXz_wFJOndcj9JkEGAzAwSc/s1600/11816867_10153462867634144_4661940357671251623_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODeoDmt3ss4eURwkRYyyPd_QQtsvAEGbxq4xH2-7cZXcztPalNE3tfBDJlEvbzO8B62hmXY6nSygKIPVC5GLIzMuAPMP5v1VZSUL32ZNOe8exMklCSDlpFXz_wFJOndcj9JkEGAzAwSc/s640/11816867_10153462867634144_4661940357671251623_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A man after my own heart.</td></tr>
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<i>Note: I'm posting this account to both my personal/yoga blog, <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/">Learning Curves</a>, as well as my travel blog, <a href="http://talesfromthemutiny.blogspot.com/">Tales From the Mutiny</a>. I'll be writing additional posts for Learning Curves which will include seated and chair yoga sequences I'm able to do along with progress updates. In Tales From the Mutiny I'll be posting more about our travels in Alaska, including all of the great adventures we had prior to this accident. Feel free to follow along either (or both) blogs. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-34458875046717171412015-03-23T11:25:00.000-07:002015-03-23T11:25:08.067-07:00Learning to Live Toxic-Free: My Favorite ProductsMy quest to find, or make, my own beauty and home supplies stemmed first from a desire to avoid products tested on animals. In the early days (remember, I'm 44 years old), this was no easy task. But, over the years many companies have realized that this is important to their customers. They've also seemed to jump on the "Green" bandwagon which has lead to a lot of green-washing. Unsuspecting consumers flock to expensive natural food stores looking for labels emblazoned with words like "natural", "organic", "eco-friendly", "vegan" without a clue that none of this means a) that it's <i>true</i> and b) that it <i>works</i>. Trust me, I was one of those consumers.<br />
<br />
Over the years a few other things became important to my health and well-being. I wanted products that were <i>truly</i> natural, vegan, eco-friendly and not tested on animals but I also wanted them to be simple, easy to find or make, effective and free of synthetic perfumes. After suffering from some female related health issues including heavy bleeding along with severe and debilitating cramps, which lead to a procedure called <a href="http://www.webmd.com/women/endometrial-ablation-16200">endometrial ablation</a>, I found that the cramps were not subsiding. I have a pretty high threshold for pain but these bad boys had me in bed, or seeking the ER, on more than one occasion. <br />
<br />
Some exhausting research lead me to several websites and studies that spoke about <a href="http://www.naturalhealth365.com/natural_healing/estrogen.html">estrogen mimicing chemicals</a> which are found in many of our everyday products. Seriously, these things can wreak havoc on both the female<i><b> and male </b></i>bodies...ladies and gentlemen of the jury I give you moobs (man-boobs)...not to mention plenty of other serous health issues. You can find xenoestrogen in everything from plastic food containers to sun screen to pesticides on our foods...even makeup, cleaning supplies, laundry detergent and anything with synthetic fragrance added. <br />
<br />
So, how did I deal with it?<br />
<br />
I read a lot and did even <i>more</i> research. I experimented on myself and succeeded and failed through trial and error. I compromised in some areas, and still keep an open mind as I continue to learn about ingredients, science and my own body's reactions to things. I also cross referenced products with the <a href="http://www.ewg.org/">Environmental Working Groups website</a> to ensure they are truly non-toxic and eco-friendly. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Eating Right:</b></span> I'm not suggesting everyone eat like I do but I do think the easiest and most effective improvements to overall health comes directly from what we put in our mouths. I eat vegan at home and allow a little wiggle room when eating out with friends and family. I will always choose plant-based but, on occasion, well-meaning family members have inadvertently added butter or maybe even eggs to a dish they prepared specially for me. It happens. But the main point is, I eat clean (for the most part...I'm no saint) and that means whole foods, mostly organic, tons of fresh veggies, grains, home-cooked beans (not canned), sweet potatoes, fruits, etc. I eat what works for my body...instead of forcing it to accept foods my mind craves but might cause issues in my gut. <b>I avoid canned foods of any kind, pre-packaged or convenience foods, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, partially hydrogenated oils, animal products and by-products</b>, etc. I've learned to enjoy making many things from scratch like kombucha, almond milk, coconut milk, salad dressing, almond milk kefir, almond meal flour, salsa, peanut sauce, jaggery syrup, and lots of different home cooked meals. And, it may sound like some new-age mumbo-jumbo but cooking with intention and with a heart full of gratitude and love makes a difference. If nothing else, it helps with attitude. =)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh34NNfYxs9CHAabg0Ddo5Vg8TiV5sOgOdNGdjXC-hi6VE7Ei6gUDae6cpUvRi7oLC1-RLrkOjD-YbwMii2t4bq9b2BqBLaAlEPHnyaarNcg1xLSvZDlkCUMDC-FmsGpwVK6r_xmw8md0/s1600/2015-03-19+10.02.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh34NNfYxs9CHAabg0Ddo5Vg8TiV5sOgOdNGdjXC-hi6VE7Ei6gUDae6cpUvRi7oLC1-RLrkOjD-YbwMii2t4bq9b2BqBLaAlEPHnyaarNcg1xLSvZDlkCUMDC-FmsGpwVK6r_xmw8md0/s1600/2015-03-19+10.02.40.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adding flavor to my homemade kombucha (and repurposing an old store bought bottle).</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Skin Care Cleaning and Moisturizing:</b></span> I've tried a lot of different products and have settled on making my own facial cleanser. It's simply a 50/50 mix of <b>Dr. Bronner's Baby Mild</b> (no scent) Liquid Soap and distilled water. Every so often I will add a pinch of baking soda in my hand first, which acts as a mild scrub. And when needed, a little <b>sesame oil</b> is my chosen moisturizer (sesame oil is the preferred oil in Ayurveda and ranks low as a non-comedogenic at a 2 out of 5). For moisturizing the body I suggest my friend Ambika's line of ayurvedic oils which you can find <a href="http://www.ayurvedarejuvenation.com/">here</a>. I also recommend The Seaweed Bath Company brand which offers fragrance free lotions, body wash and shampoo. I really don't believe the hype behind the ads that suggest we need multiple products (sometimes specific to a.m. and p.m. routines) to achieve healthy skin. It starts with what we eat and doesn't need to be complicated, or expensive. Be nice to your skin...very, very nice and it will soon glow.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Skin Care Dry Brushing:</b></span> I'll admit it now...I do not shower daily. For those of you who aren't aware, my husband and I live in our 32 foot RV and have been traveling the country for the past 2 1/2 years. Showers are, at times, a luxury because we often go "off-the-grid" for long periods. This means we must ration our water usage. I've found that dry brushing helps keep my skin healthy between showering. But even if you do shower every day dry brushing has some excellent health benefits. Honestly, I don't believe all of the claims (read about the how to's and why's of dry brushing <a href="http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-7955/why-you-should-start-dry-body-brushing-today.html">here</a>) but it does feel really good and we can all use a little more self-care in our daily routines. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Deodorant:</b></span> Like you I have tried everything under the sun, crystals, baking soda, expensive natural products like Jason's, Tom's and Primal Pit Paste and none work nearly as well as the chemical laden, *possibly* cancer causing products available at Target and Walmart. But dammit...I will not be deterred and I will not give in to Proctor & Gamble any longer. I've come to terms with this dilemma and have settled on a homemade concoction. There are tons <a href="http://www.crunchybetty.com/all-roads-lead-to-the-pits-homemade-deodorant">recipes available online</a> (Google is my friend) but I tend to keep it simple... 5 TBS melted coconut oil, 1/4 cup non-aluminum baking soda, a few drops of essential oil of your choice...mix it up and store in a small jar (a baby food jar works well). Many recipes call for cornstarch and/or arrowroot powder so you might have to experiment to find the perfect balance for you. Over the course of a month of exclusively using baking soda and coconut oil my body has adapted fairly well (combined with clean eating you'll find it pretty darn effective as a deodorant). <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Makeup:</b></span> Truthfully, I use very little makeup these days but when I do, I tend to chose <a href="http://t.w.i.n.k./">T.W.I.N.K.</a> products (available <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/twinkbeauty?section_id=5102362">here on Etsy</a>) which are hand made, inexpensive and offers minimal packaging options. I use their mineral foundation and eyeliner and love them. In a pinch I will opt for certain e.l.f.. products which are available at many drug stores and even the dreaded megastore, Walmart and are very inexpensive (their <a href="http://www.ewg.org/skindeep/product/472251/e.l.f._Studio_Mineral_Infused_Mascara%2C_Black/">studio mineral infused mascara scored a 2 on the EWG website</a>). Boots and Physicians Formula products also rank fairly low on the EWG site (the lower the better) but are not vegan.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Hair Care:</b></span> Traveling in the RV and staying in remote, wild places has many benefits...one of them being that I rarely have to "do" my hair. It lives in a ponytail...a lot. It gets washed maybe 2-3 times a week. I know, some of you may be appalled! But hey, I'm saving a ton of money in salon fees, straighteners, curling irons, magic products and rejuventation treatments I would need to combat the torture all of those things put my hair through. For you "all-natural purists", I've never, ever been able to go poo-free. I tried, believe me...I tried. For 4 months I did the ol' baking soda and apple cider vinegar thing only to have my hair turn to straw and my head smell like a salad gone bad (or Easter eggs being dyed). <i>It just does not work for me</i>. After getting about 5 inches of damaged hair cut from my head I vowed to go back to "traditional" shampoo and conditioner to avoid having to shave my head completely. But I still knew there were better choices out there. After using myself as a guinea pig and spending who knows how much on this product and that product I finally found one I love...Everyone Hair Shampoos and Conditioner. I use the Nourish version personally and my scalp feels very healthy. My runner-up choices would be The Seaweed Company and Free and Clear. All are available on Amazon. Oh, the only other thing I use in my hair is argon or jojoba oil if necessary.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Hair Dye (TBD):</b></span> I've been battling this issue for 2 years. Part of me wants to just let my hair grow out naturally and the other part, which is bigger, meaner and much more vain, refuses to give in too long. I'm *only* 44 yet I'd venture to say I am half grey. It seems like a lot of grey for age and I'm just not ready to come to terms with it all. However, hair dye, even at studio, can be one of the most toxic and damaging things you can do to your head. When the time comes I will be experimenting with T.W.I.N.K.S. herbal hair dyes and I promise to report back with the results. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4yKeyxj6LlJAWFE-Sc2W7IHShblrqhBO0vvDQ8nNGvw3ufnvRsA4o80UCwosQRB8w2L-nJFGUtBoRiv3kh11oTYWQ_6J_9UQyjHxd_vb1Q1BnAiNACInkLT301dIoNmwccKFEgrYkZ8/s1600/twink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4yKeyxj6LlJAWFE-Sc2W7IHShblrqhBO0vvDQ8nNGvw3ufnvRsA4o80UCwosQRB8w2L-nJFGUtBoRiv3kh11oTYWQ_6J_9UQyjHxd_vb1Q1BnAiNACInkLT301dIoNmwccKFEgrYkZ8/s1600/twink.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For the T.W.I.N.K. website.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Laundry Detergent:</b></span> The biggest eye-opener for me came when I switched to dye- and fragrance-free laundry detergent and eliminated the dryer sheets. Even in my late 3's I was getting breakouts, especially along my jawline, back and chest. Nothing worked...not Proactive, not acne battling body washes...nothing...until I changed my detergent. And then, like magic, my skin became clear <i>within days.</i> Be sure to wash everything including towels, bedding, and everything that touches your skin). I'm not joking. My mom, who is in her 60's, recently switched to fragrance- and dye-free detergent and experienced the same results. I wish I had known this trick back in my high school days! My suds of choice is now Ecover or Seventh Generation Free and Clear (depends on price and availability). <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Dish Washing Soap:</b></span> We don't have a dishwasher in our home (the RV)...unless you count me. I've tried many types of soaps, most of which made my hands extremely dry and itchy and some which seemed to add a greasy feel to the dishes rather than remove it. I've settled on Method brand (found at Targets across the country). While it does have fragrances added it seems to be the one that reacts less to my skin. I should probably invest in some pretty rubber gloves regardless.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>General House Cleaning:</b></span> I pretty much make all of my own cleaning products. Google it and you will find pages and pages of recipes to tackle all of your problem areas. I keep it pretty simple and generally clean everything with the same concoction: water, white vinegar, Dr. Bronners and sometimes a little baking soda. Adding a few drops of you favorite essential oil is a nice touch too. But by far, my very favorite thing to clean with are my Norwex Clothes. They are amazing and use only water...plain old water...<i>for cleaning and disinfecting</i>. You read that right...and I encourage you to do some research, watch some videos and find out for yourself how great these clothes are. They seem a little expensive up front but think of all of the money you'll save not buying 10 different cleaners at the store. And lets not forget the chemicals that you'll be avoiding! This is an added benefit for anyone with kids or pets who might get curious about what's stored under the sink. P.S. Norwex has saved my glass shower doors...they always look brand new now!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Air Fresheners:</b></span> Sorry to say but all of those "plug-ins" and sprays and carpet fresheners (just save an old Parmesan cheese container or buy a nice glass one and fill with baking soda, add a few drops of essential oils for a nice scent) are polluting your home and might be messing with your hormones. They're toxic buggers that trick you into thinking their good because they smell like pumpkin pie or the beach or snickerdoodles. Do not be fooled! An easy spray freshener anyone can make is one cup of water, 1/4 vodka (it's okay to use the cheap stuff for this recipes) and 20+/- drops of essential oils of your choice in a spray bottle, voila. The vodka acts as a disinfectant and helps the water and oil blend. Another option, which I love, love , love is a diffuser. There are tons of them on the market but since I'm very new to all of this essential oil stuff I chose an inexpensive, but highly rated, diffuser and a few essential oils from a well-respected company. Since our home is only about 300 square feet in total one diffuser is perfect. Add a little water and just a couple of drops of EO and you have a fun and great smelling abode.<br />
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These are just a few changes we've made and I can honestly vouch for how well they've worked for us, including pretty much getting rid of my allergies. I encourage you all to read up how everyday, seemingly ordinary products, are screwing up our hormones and, quite possibly, causing (or at least exacerbating) issues such as depression, allergies, acne, insomnia, thinning hair, man boobs, middle-age "spread, early childhood breast development and menses, restless leg syndrome and a myriad of other problems. <br />
<i><b><br />Please do your own research...I'm only sharing what has worked for me. This post is not intended to offer any type of medical advise. </b></i><br />
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Further reading:<br />
http://www.adeno101.com/xeno.htm<br />
http://www.womhoo.com/<br />
http://womeninbalance.org/2012/10/26/xenoestrogens-what-are-they-how-to-avoid-them/<br />
http://balancedconcepts.net/tips_avoid_xenoestrogens.pdf<br />
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You can also read my original post on our travel blog at <a href="http://talesfromthemutiny.blogspot.com/2014/08/the-struggles-of-living-toxic-free-on.html">Tales From the Mutiny</a> which offers additional insight into the products we feel are safe and non-toxic <i>and that we actually use</i>. <br />
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<i>We rely on Amazon Prime deliveries for
many of our products. The product links above will take you to our
affiliate page where we earn a very small commission (at no cost to you)
should you make a purchase through the link. As always, we appreciate
you reading our blog and we thank you in advance for using our Amazon
links. </i><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-12804890039152328842014-04-03T14:29:00.000-07:002014-04-03T14:29:04.071-07:00Learning to Unlearn...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVAmqkFAu3AI7lFEtHoc98c-gFI_XuW-BxDxXZO6Ee_yqhZscPphN9rV41SM0zaGtRedruBSFl-dkwdMO-z7JCFe5ZSX_iYAtRYtFa3fmuUEqQ6Nn3IekOtx90VZS2PFpAYCWgLlVfDAc/s1600/Lynn's+phone+July+26+598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVAmqkFAu3AI7lFEtHoc98c-gFI_XuW-BxDxXZO6Ee_yqhZscPphN9rV41SM0zaGtRedruBSFl-dkwdMO-z7JCFe5ZSX_iYAtRYtFa3fmuUEqQ6Nn3IekOtx90VZS2PFpAYCWgLlVfDAc/s1600/Lynn's+phone+July+26+598.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm not a big fan of "self-help" as it is traditionally defined. In the past, the books I've read, the counseling sessions I've attended, the workbooks, journals and seminars I've participated in have all been focused on my past...looking for a cause and effect as if finding the source of my depression or anxiety would miraculously make me <i>less</i> depressed or anxious. There might have been some positive thinking sprinkled in there for good measure but I often felt like my "problems" were my fault because I was too weak (minded or willed) to have dealt with them as they were emerging. So, I have been living in the past for a very, very long time.<br />
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Every time a relationship failed I thought about the past...the boys I 'let' mistreat me, the approval I constantly sought from my alcoholic father, the not-so-happy marriage my parents struggled through. And every time I sat on the side lines...a wallflower of sorts...never sticking my neck out for anything (be it a cause or promotion or recognition for work well done) I thought again about the past...the competition I created with my sister who was very outgoing, the girls in my class who were called pretty, the times I felt invisible or was picked last in games and being laughed at or ridiculed when I <i>did</i> fail. For every shortcoming I had I was directed to look at a specific event (or person) to place the blame...leaving me (and many others) sure that if only I could receive a sincere, heartfelt apology I could become whole again...why else would we search so hard for the source?<br />
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But by always focusing on past "mistakes" or past "reasons" I was basically inviting the same results in to my present. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Z2ovxvvYzehYfZd2j-Nb4rowd9T9h6nVMiaB6eExnZ4lAeJgTnwWS5ThT4OtqnDFR-6nYRn2lgTtapqwCJcGFhDUJFp2QhZe882hQynjb0MNPe9nIO3Qi75QPZZlxz0GBZdtj-t1yxI/s1600/paying-attention-to-pain-joe-dispenza-evolve-your-brain-the-science-of-changing-your-mind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Z2ovxvvYzehYfZd2j-Nb4rowd9T9h6nVMiaB6eExnZ4lAeJgTnwWS5ThT4OtqnDFR-6nYRn2lgTtapqwCJcGFhDUJFp2QhZe882hQynjb0MNPe9nIO3Qi75QPZZlxz0GBZdtj-t1yxI/s1600/paying-attention-to-pain-joe-dispenza-evolve-your-brain-the-science-of-changing-your-mind.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blog.zerodean.com/2014/motivational-images/by-paying-attention-to-pain-on-a-daily-basis-we-are-wiring-ourselves-neurologically/">source</a></td></tr>
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Every rejection and break-up solidified my self-worth. Every success was chalked up to sheer luck. The self-help books I was reading at the time felt like weights around my ankles keeping me aware of my short comings (and perhaps creating more) with no real direction to move forward other than writing letters to those who hurt me and thinking positive thoughts or looking at myself in the mirror and saying "you are beautiful" over and over. Those books also tried to make me feel better by saying I wasn't alone...constantly trying to equate my pain with others...or attempting to diminish it by saying some people have it worse.<br />
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And while I understand that there are people around the world who <i>do </i>have huge challenges, who are abused, or sold into slavery and starving I also know that these facts do not just take away the pain someone is feeling. We can't 'cure' ourselves by stepping on (or using) those who are also struggling. Comparison can be dangerous...being sad about a pet who died is okay, one doesn't have to "put it into perspective" and try to diminish those emotions because some else, somewhere in the world suffered a "worse" tragedy. All that it does is make us feel selfish and wrong for our feelings of sadness. And now we are back in the cycle of needing to be "fixed" because we've learned our emotions are inappropriate. <br />
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I think there is a better way...a way to reflect on our past (not live in it) and use it to change our now (and our future).<br />
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I cringe when I hear people say things like "well, nobody's perfect" and "everyone has issues". Not because it isn't true (most likely it is) but because phrases like those are often used as crutches to justify a kind of giving up, the kind that comes from accepting our condition and allowing our minds to remain in the rut we've created. <br />
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What I mean is...when we are always accepting (and expecting) a certain outcome (or emotion) we might be creating a pathway for the same thing to keep happening "to us" over and over again. I used to get panic attacks which were often work related. It got so bad that by Sunday morning (I was off on the weekends) you could find me curled up in a dark room crying because Monday was looming over my shoulder like the Grim Reaper. It wasn't that I had some horrible task to take care of Monday morning that I was dreading...it was simply that the weekend was ending. Sure I hated my job...but not only was I unhappy at work but now I was unhappy at home because I was constantly thinking about work and evoking those horrible feelings even when things were "okay" in the present moment. Of course, by the time the work week started I would have a miserable time and the days would feel like weeks. Again, there wouldn't necessarily be any horrific <i>'thing'</i> that happened but my mind created (and recreated every Sunday morning) a disaster of a week. And the week almost always lived up to my expectations. <br />
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My weekends were no longer a source of relaxation and fun...they became almost as unbearable as going to work. I would look forward to having two full days off only to then torture myself by counting down the hours until I had to go back to that hell hole. The same thing would happen on vacation. Imagine having a week off, splashing in the pool, drinking a cocktail with an umbrella in it only to break down in tears because you realized that every sunset wasn't beautiful anymore because it was really a dreadful reminder that it was now one day closer to the vacation ending. I became sullen, depressed and inconsolable. A real Debby Downer. <br />
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I've recently read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/War-Art-Steven-Pressfield-ebook/dp/B007A4SDCG/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1396545684&sr=1-1&keywords=the+war+of+art">The War of Art</a> by Steven Pressfield and although it is geared toward the creative process I was moved by the chapter Resistance and Healing. In it, Pressfield writes about the subculture of healing being the belief that one needs to 'complete' his healing before he is ready to live his dream. He goes on to say:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>"Resistance knows that the more psychic energy we expend dredging and re-dredging the tired, boring injustices of our personal lives, the less juice we have to do our work."</i></span></blockquote>
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To me, the work can be anything from painting to writing to composing music...<i>but most importantly it's living.</i> Living in the here and now...not rehashing the hurtful thing some high school kid said to you 25 years ago. Not giving more power to a selfish or addicted parent who was too busy (or drunk) to have taught you about self-worth. And certainly not judging your work ethics by the actions of some asshole who thought it was impressive to fire you on the spot for asking to take a break after leading trail rides for the past 5 hours without stepping out of the saddle. Whew...I guess THAT one still stings a little.<br />
<br />
The book I'm currently reading, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Breaking-The-Habit-Being-Yourself/dp/1401938094#">Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself: How to Lose Your Mind and Create a New One</a> by Joe Dispenza, takes things even further by explaining how we can become addicted to feelings we experience which means we continually seek out more experiences which produce those feelings. For instance, if at some point in our lives we've been called lazy or hot tempered or maybe even labeled as emotionally unstable (I was "diagnosed" as manic back in 1987 at an in-patient hospital but never since) we tend to start identifying with those things which causes us to "claim" those traits which then forms our personality. Over the course of 10 or 20 years we <b>believe</b> we are <i>lazy</i> or <i>introverted</i> or <i>ugly</i> or <i>a binge eater</i> or <i>just not good at sports</i> (regardless if these statements are even true!!) and this emotional state (our way of thinking and feeling) becomes engrained...it becomes who we are. We even begin to define ourselves as these things..."Oh, I'm just a lazy person, always have been, always will be"..."I have a hot temper and I just cannot control it".<br />
<br />
You see, we resign ourselves to be whatever we were told (or told ourselves) in the past. And no amount of "positive thinking" (or medication) can change 20 years of proving them (or us) right. But there is a way to rewire our brain...and part of the process is through meditation.<br />
<br />
Now that I am becoming aware I am even more convinced that we turn over far too much of our lives and well-being to other people. We get labeled by friends, school mates, parents, doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, teachers, etc., and then allow those labels define who we are. We seek out experiences that "prove" those labels are correct. We let our minds wonder with thoughts of the past or even future events that haven't even happened to simulate the feelings that keep us trapped in our current state of being.<br />
<br />
Looking back at my earlier story about the awful dread I felt on Sundays I can see now that I was using past experiences (perhaps a particularly bad day at work) and rehashing it in my mind until I felt as bad as I did the day it occurred. I was then projecting that I would continue to have this kind of bad day every day...building up the anxiety. Going to work with that amount of anxiety meant I often missed out on the good parts of work, I was tense and on edge...actually having a physical response to the chemicals my body was releasing due to my anxiety. I couldn't get out of my own way because I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, certain that anything positive was an illusion rather than the scenario I kept creating in my mind and body. <br />
<br />
Although I am not quite finished with the book, I feel a weight has lifted off of my shoulders. I'm beginning to question some of the labels I've accepted and/or placed on myself...like being an introvert, an over-planner, "mousy-brown", invisible, prone to depression, ad nauseum. I feel like I've been given "permission" to step outside of that box I created and become who I am supposed to be...someone <i>without</i> paralyzing fear and self-doubt...someone who doesn't finish things...someone who is often sad for 'no reason'. <br />
<br />
Until then, here's a little video that might peak your interest in this "new" research. I hope you enjoy it.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-4789596096603266862014-02-25T11:00:00.000-08:002014-02-25T13:49:21.971-08:00Idiocracy Meets the American DietI'm not a nutritionist or health expert. I don't profess to be the smartest or most educated person you'll ever run across and I am certainly not infallible (there's a reason this blog is named Learning Curves). However, I do have a bit of experience with dieting. I've done Atkins, the Rice Diet, Nutrisystem, the Master Cleanse (aka Lemonade Diet) and everything in between. I've even done calorie restriction to the point of becoming anorexic. I lost weight. I gained weight. I beat myself up and placed my personal value in that magic number on the scale. I also almost died. <br />
<br />
What did I learn from spending countless dollars on books, programs, special "diet" foods, sugar-free this and fat-free that and carb-free mystery foods? Well, what I <i>unlearned</i> was <b>how to eat</b>, what it felt like to be <b>hungry </b>and to<i> trust</i> my body's needs and abilities.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>We eat because the clock says it’s time to eat. We fill our plates with
too much food because the plates are large and that’s what everybody
else is doing. “We confuse thirst for hunger and food for love,” May
says.<span style="font-size: small;"> {excerpt from an <a href="http://www.rockymounttelegram.com/charm/charm-fitness/mindful-eating-lets-you-skip-diets-focus-yourself-2258275">interview </a>with author Michelle May, a physician turned health coach}</span></i></span></blockquote>
I unlearned so much of what is supposed to be innate, the simple act of supplying my body with fuel, that I have yet to relearn it after declaring myself "diet-free" a few years ago.<br />
<br />
My thoughts...and this in only my opinion...is that the diet industry, along with Big Ag and those genius marketers, have basically brainwashed the average consumer into thinking humans cannot survive by simply eating food when their body indicates it's hungry. We've been convinced to ignore our cravings (which can often indicate a true nutritional need) and substitute food-like products in an effort to "trick" our brain into thinking it's satisfied.<br />
<br />
We eat low- or no-calorie "desserts" (sugar-free jello, for example) as a way to fill our ever expanding stomachs while depriving our body of actual nutrients. Which means we will have to eat even MORE lo- or no-calorie foods in an attempt to make our stomachs feel full. And if we ever go back to eating "real" foods we will have trouble feeling full on "normal" serving sizes.<br />
<br />
We convince ourselves that bacon is "good for us" because some caveman supposedly ate a high protein diet thousands of years ago (but he didn't drive to work in a car, sit around and watch TV for hours, and play on Facebook all day). So, we bastardize a diet like Paleo to include processed meats as long as they "hold the bun". Of course, my philosophy is that we convince ourselves bacon {or insert your favorite food here}is good for us because we <u>want</u> to believe we will do <i>anything</i> to get healthy but really, we won't. It would be like eating the same foods and calories of say, Michael Phelps (who sometimes eats around <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/health/2008/08/13/the-michael-phelps-diet-dont-try-it-at-home/">12,000 calories a day</a> when training) but never swimming a lap...and then wondering why we don't have his physique.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlrB3464SX1tCuK442Oo_dUnrfJtL6na0Kt733cyHWvYQAeo5urAyP50hJjXSjPIKUjWtRbvm2CNpA81yW4iWnNYIWx1NQbQecniLoS4Xq_dOLfqA-SYTV2vceSLNe2_67c0_kCP7-u4/s1600/tl-horizontal_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlrB3464SX1tCuK442Oo_dUnrfJtL6na0Kt733cyHWvYQAeo5urAyP50hJjXSjPIKUjWtRbvm2CNpA81yW4iWnNYIWx1NQbQecniLoS4Xq_dOLfqA-SYTV2vceSLNe2_67c0_kCP7-u4/s1600/tl-horizontal_main.jpg" height="271" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battered and then deep fried Twinkies are used for "buns" on this bacon burger...and why not...this is 'Murica!</td></tr>
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In this country (U.S.) the "gluttonous movement" has gotten to the point of being a ridiculous (and embarrassing considering how many people across the world, and our own country, go hungry). It's as if people are trying to give a big F-you to health and purposely eating the most fattening, sugar laden abomination of "food" ever imagined. There's even a series from Thrillist called <a href="http://www.thrillist.com/topics/fat-kid-fridays"><i>Fat Kid Friday</i></a> which publishes "this week's most ridiculous eats". It showcases real menu items like Porky Cake Batter Ice Cream Sundae (cake batter ice cream topped with caramelized pork belly bites and chicharrones tossed in cinnamon
and sugar, then drenched with bacon-caramel sauce) and the Breakfast All Day Burger which is a hamburger topped with fried hash browns, a fried egg, bacon and maple syrup. <br />
<br />
I mean, it's like we can't stop ourselves when it comes to shock-value regarding our food! People think it's funny to push the 'envelope' when what they are really doing is destroying themselves. Even Subway, whose profits soared with the Jerad campaign, has resorted to offering Frito loaded sandwiches! We think we have <a href="http://content.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,2000994,00.html">free will</a> but based on the number of people I see jumping on this bandwagon <a href="http://philosophynow.org/issues/76/How_Are_We_Free">I beg to differ</a>. Can anyone tell me what exactly we are trying to accomplish?<br />
<br />
The human body is highly adaptable, which is one of the reasons we are still here. But it also has it's limits when bombarded with garbage on a daily basis. There's pollution, the highly processed foods we eat and the chemicals/hormones/drugs/toxic bug sprays that cover our not so highly processed foods, the 'fragrances' added to our shampoos, lotions, soaps, deodorants and the toxins that get released from the plastic packaging our apples and carrots come in or Glad containers we use to store our leftovers.This accumulation now has a name...chronic inflammation...and it's been linked to a plethora of illnesses. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> Our bodies have become virtual dumping grounds for the tens of thousands of <a href="http://arizonaadvancedmedicine.com/articles/chemicals.html">toxic compounds</a> that invade our everyday world, setting the stage for a <a href="http://arizonaadvancedmedicine.com/articles/sickness_is_a_slow_descent.html">slow decline in health</a>.
The EPA estimates there are more than 20,000 chemicals that our bodies
cannot metabolize. Unable to be excreted from the body, chemicals find
their way into our liver, and then migrate to fat cells throughout the
body where they are stored. Studies show that most of us have between
400 and 800 chemical residues stored in our cells.</span> {<a href="http://arizonaadvancedmedicine.com/chronic-inflammation/">Arizona Center for Advanced Medicine</a>}</i></blockquote>
There's also emotional stress, something many people don't want to deal with because we think it's a sign of weakness. And some people are "happy" being prescribed drugs to mask their symptoms because it's 'easier' and deflects the feeling of responsibility. Somehow it's understandable to 'blame' the diet industry and marketing minds behind Big Ag and the conflicting research behind the USDA for our choices (I can't remember if eggs are good for us now or not) and our desire to eat like crap but it's a mark against us, as individuals, to admit that somewhere along the way we also forgot how to express our feelings, were made to feel even worse if we did so and lost our ability to cope. <br />
<br />
So now we are really screwed. We don't know what to eat and can't get out of our own way to go back to the basics because we can't trust ourselves to do so. We've been told to trust our doctor even though she may be working off of old science (and might not be the picture of health herself). We are so conditioned to dismiss any "new" scientific research that puts the responsibility in our hands instead of the surgeon's knife or pharmacy's pill. And we will believe any new fangled diet book that comes along and revere it as if it was the word of God even if we have no idea who the author is <i>as long as it promises us we can lose 20 pounds in 2 weeks without exercise and without giving up our favorite foods</i>.<br />
<br />
We also still can't seem to wrap our minds around the fact that the foods we eat can affect our emotional state and our stress levels which contributes to our chronic pain. And this often creates a vicious cycle. <br />
<br />
I guess my point is that we <i>can</i> take back control of our minds. We <i>can</i> educate ourselves (it's really not that hard) and climb back into the driver's seat. Some people will want to do so...and some will continue to complain, whine, and seek attention by playing the perpetual victim to 'things' beyond their control. But it's within reach for <i>all</i> of us because we are born with the innate ability to not only survive but to thrive. There are things we need to unlearn and others we need to relearn but the path has been cleared for those willing to take that walk.<br />
<br />
Further reading:<br />
<br />
“Perfect Weight” and “What Are You Hungry For?” by Deepak Chopra<br />
<br />
“Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life” by Thich Nhat Hanh and Lilian Cheung<br />
<br />
“Eat, Drink, and Be Mindful” by Susan Albers<br />
<br />
"Thrive Foods: 200 Plant-Based Recipes for Peak Health", "The Thrive Diet" and "The Thrive Cookbook: 150 Plant-Based Whole Foods Recipes" by Brendan Brazier<br />
<br />
"Women, Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything Else" by Geneen Roth<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/24/magazine/the-extraordinary-science-of-junk-food.html?_r=0">The Extraordinary Science of Addictive Junk Food</a> by Michael Moss (full article)<br />
<br />
"Death By Supermarket: The Fattening, Dumbing Down and Poisoning of America" by Nancy DevilleAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-70474645939455345852014-02-14T16:31:00.001-08:002014-02-25T13:47:46.586-08:00A Valentine's Day Gift for My Sister<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgActZOG06lXP27lwUaexmcIIUWc-mF-izUGT9uH10dqDradASy1KAmlGCsX7YSqg-AXt2bwTzGi3Yr3MfDM4DUvaPONitZciYb60CR5KKKIIIZzFoth2kCqUMgCHXf_1Hw332-cPNcLa8/s1600/scan0125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgActZOG06lXP27lwUaexmcIIUWc-mF-izUGT9uH10dqDradASy1KAmlGCsX7YSqg-AXt2bwTzGi3Yr3MfDM4DUvaPONitZciYb60CR5KKKIIIZzFoth2kCqUMgCHXf_1Hw332-cPNcLa8/s1600/scan0125.jpg" height="280" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">circa 1975</td></tr>
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My sister and I have always had a strained relationship. You can call it sibling rivalry but as a kids (and into my teens) I thought she hated me. She did the normal older sister stuff...hiding under my bed to scare me at night, telling me I was adopted (I wasn't) and tricking me into saying cuss words ('Hey sis, sing Yankee Doodle but use "F" as the first letter of each word') and then telling on me. And yes, my mom believed in punishing foul language with a bar of soap in the mouth.<br />
<br />
But I was (and still am) very sensitive so I thought she was intentionally cruel when she wouldn't let me sit next to her on the school bus and the bus driver refused to go until everyone was seated (and I was the only one standing) or when she kicked me out of the car miles from home and left me there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_P8UgQqo5xDpWRiYFmlazjjAMfd1JiaYgPrUsPJiNAZmULGiwVS6q6jUV92yOAXEAj1UT_Z_pHGfIJLnx5UVN0Pl5ICQHi0N8wB9RNqsZdiAJa9qAtsxvLNpNiHntccvy9fW0Y_gZjLI/s1600/scan0120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_P8UgQqo5xDpWRiYFmlazjjAMfd1JiaYgPrUsPJiNAZmULGiwVS6q6jUV92yOAXEAj1UT_Z_pHGfIJLnx5UVN0Pl5ICQHi0N8wB9RNqsZdiAJa9qAtsxvLNpNiHntccvy9fW0Y_gZjLI/s1600/scan0120.jpg" height="400" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One thing we did share was our disdain for the first day of school.</td></tr>
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Even in adulthood we struggled to be friendly to each other. We could be civil but it took work and left me drained (I'm sure she was equally put out). We were polar opposites in every.single.way.<br />
<br />
She's blonde. I'm brunette.<br />
She's and extrovert. I'm an introvert.<br />
She's funny. I'm reflective.<br />
She's tall. I'm short.<br />
She's driven. I'm laid back.<br />
She's loud. I'm quiet.<br />
<a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/01/finding-happiness-in-my-own-skin-lynn-bonnelli/">She's beautiful and I am Mousy Brown</a>.<br />
She's smart. I'm smarter. (just seeing who's paying attention)<br />
<br />
But both of us felt the need to compete with each other and our relationship always felt on the verge of collapse. With all of their faults (and who <i>doesn't</i> like to blame their parents for everything bad) I'm not sure what we put our parents through was "fair" in the name of sibling rivalry. My sister had on-going issues that led to her no longer being welcome in our house and I had mine...one which led to being hospitalized for 4 months. But both of us put enormous amounts of pressure on ourselves to excel at academics and sports (mainly competitive horseback riding).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVs9d0z0jClCWLlU1gbtjUCY5iYP9TIgIv2jYFBGpU02ViLQkVNd8HemIOgeXNsfLDoCoMvIVaZTP8esoRaqEaLmLRAQ7CWjXwbUTxe37EaNfBHs780qNPgEazFUxSGt6anegkwKSBG34/s1600/perfect+daughter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVs9d0z0jClCWLlU1gbtjUCY5iYP9TIgIv2jYFBGpU02ViLQkVNd8HemIOgeXNsfLDoCoMvIVaZTP8esoRaqEaLmLRAQ7CWjXwbUTxe37EaNfBHs780qNPgEazFUxSGt6anegkwKSBG34/s1600/perfect+daughter.jpg" height="400" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's a lot of truth in this <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1558749527?ie=UTF8&creativeASIN=1558749527&tag=talfrothemut-20">book</a>...it's not a means to place blame but to move forward and break the pattern.</td></tr>
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It was the kind of pressure perfectionists place on themselves that make parents worry and drive away potential friendships. I was, in particular, very much a loner....excelling at solo ventures (be it gymnastics or debates) but had no social skills because friendships were superfluous. I couldn't relate to people my own age because I had aged myself through academic and physical discipline (and later with food restriction) not realizing that one could be social <i>and</i> successful. My sister took a slightly different route. Although she was(is) quite the overachiever she was also just as self-destructive with questionable relationships and "shock value" escapades.<br />
<br />
So I think we surprised each other when somewhere in our late 20's and early 30's we found that not only were we both still alive, but we were thriving. She was forging a very successful career in the Army and I was moving up through the highly competitive, all male dominated, automotive industry. But that disconnect was still there and on the rare occasion we found ourselves together (there had only been a handful of times) it felt like we were teenagers again...bickering, competing, and feeling less than.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapl7ZGlOpT9VgYZJlIw7qmri4hRRUk6BWRsh1CkatDiYEZv03a-xqRTJw0nGq_dU72dZE_JwEDIvCrhHXWLbYKiTKEA15K2WpMvRVqaDFfxYfZWGys4-iK3pQrSzdJ8ok8dUGP7boTrY/s1600/3-Japan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjapl7ZGlOpT9VgYZJlIw7qmri4hRRUk6BWRsh1CkatDiYEZv03a-xqRTJw0nGq_dU72dZE_JwEDIvCrhHXWLbYKiTKEA15K2WpMvRVqaDFfxYfZWGys4-iK3pQrSzdJ8ok8dUGP7boTrY/s1600/3-Japan.jpg" height="318" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our family (Japan 1972).</td></tr>
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Our dad died in 2009 after a <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2013/04/love-hate.html">horrific car accident</a>. My sister and I had a huge falling out in the week before he died and remained in a coma. At the outset, this tragedy tore at the already fragile seams of our relationship, and for the first time in my life I felt like I was <i>right</i> when it came to her (I judged her initial blowup as an unwarranted attack at an inappropriate time...somehow growing a spine during this intense moment in time). I had spent the entire 39 years of my life feeling <i>inferior </i>to my sister. She was everything I wished I could be...but I couldn't tell her that. Instead I had to pick apart her faults, rehash the past and basically make myself miserable by trying to 'out do' her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjzKb-MjXOvgSc-SdR4g3MILc6FxR-2DrLfWhO85JREiQBTMzq98sUu82X5C-l0NGnGtZHYpbml2sB2qr2M2wcqsJ3nbLcuq_p-abqRX8_t0rBarn4iofzeN8bM4rThuCfAtVEKDdAyk/s1600/IMG_0817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWjzKb-MjXOvgSc-SdR4g3MILc6FxR-2DrLfWhO85JREiQBTMzq98sUu82X5C-l0NGnGtZHYpbml2sB2qr2M2wcqsJ3nbLcuq_p-abqRX8_t0rBarn4iofzeN8bM4rThuCfAtVEKDdAyk/s1600/IMG_0817.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parent's car after being hit head on by a reckless drive.</td></tr>
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During a second round of heated battles (tragedy brings out the best, and worst in people) my sister told me that she had felt this same way...inferior to her little sister...and no matter what she did, she could not gain the approval of our parents. And now, with our dad in a coma, dying, she would never have the chance to even ask him if was proud of her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBI7hNhfkgqEYghK2F-RXChqDIT-sMxSsg9s6thc_6K4nrWmg0JeiscX1hy8oqbevNyIUTU9NWOLH0S819jvx-NAhAZfRXjqMY8KUCI3LabT_1zpr-MTI-mDqmtsmsjGp7KhyiIikCfNw/s1600/scan0053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBI7hNhfkgqEYghK2F-RXChqDIT-sMxSsg9s6thc_6K4nrWmg0JeiscX1hy8oqbevNyIUTU9NWOLH0S819jvx-NAhAZfRXjqMY8KUCI3LabT_1zpr-MTI-mDqmtsmsjGp7KhyiIikCfNw/s1600/scan0053.jpg" height="381" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marylou and our dad at Disney World.</td></tr>
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The tables had turned and for a brief moment we were able to see into each others' pain. Four decades of struggle, four decades of pulling out all the stops looking for approval, four decades of focusing energy on a rivalry that should have never existed, four decades of competing with an illusion. She was me and I was her. This was life changing. <i>My sister's honesty was a catalyst for the direction my life has taken since that dreadful week in October 2009. </i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLc8aWYfb3qSaeeWbBxjJ-1dI6PFDzWSsJbA-n-iF1vWtlHF9E-L4ECk3dVSdRWQKjUfEu-64QnN_9x4nVmW_RITrvR11G9jV3D8-zHaZspOKEJQPHz7aPpnyY8YHtUvHMwQDWGK-y64E/s1600/147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLc8aWYfb3qSaeeWbBxjJ-1dI6PFDzWSsJbA-n-iF1vWtlHF9E-L4ECk3dVSdRWQKjUfEu-64QnN_9x4nVmW_RITrvR11G9jV3D8-zHaZspOKEJQPHz7aPpnyY8YHtUvHMwQDWGK-y64E/s1600/147.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad's headstone.</td></tr>
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I just spent 6 weeks with my sister camping in the New England area this past fall. Although our entire adulthood (actually, since I was 15 years old and she was 17) has been spent living thousands of miles apart we've found ourselves at the same place emotionally. We are seeking {and finding} a peace and balance in our relationship which has spilled over into all other facets of our lives...or maybe it's the other way around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VQcXbNRe_bUPBZjfsA5WvtWPcdQSieFKCz7i-gfZiSvx0vHfW1MvRxhTjhnFL-GjkAyaRFSlE1QaXxTn-wYTjdy8t4Hq4uDQMn0m-ctmEWC-N_atGeMhzrlsbmAh7C7ypi-OA2muFOQ/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+3253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VQcXbNRe_bUPBZjfsA5WvtWPcdQSieFKCz7i-gfZiSvx0vHfW1MvRxhTjhnFL-GjkAyaRFSlE1QaXxTn-wYTjdy8t4Hq4uDQMn0m-ctmEWC-N_atGeMhzrlsbmAh7C7ypi-OA2muFOQ/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+3253.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Maine Coast...looking for balance {literally}.</td></tr>
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I feel like we've been part of a "twins separated at birth" study. Both of us, far removed from our childhood past, far removed physically from each other and still traveling down different paths in some regards (like politics). But those paths are actually parallel to each other and constantly meet and intertwine, separating briefly and meandering back together <i>more often than not</i>. We are both now vegetarians and aspiring yogis...spiritual and inquisitive, grounded yet still dreaming, goal oriented but much more forgiving...not only of others but of ourselves.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeDiEjaV21guWPvDlPJDx8pH60RqW5Q09MdELFj9iARLs8ESJ4dJ3w8_Efy58yQvVX-A-_J1PkVz9KsMyTZBi4qBKTPQMtVmIy4TOEvVdFjJwBv1lmeLaFELCn1C5a4D1xILms9L1GGQ/s1600/406556_10150470995379144_414866734_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeDiEjaV21guWPvDlPJDx8pH60RqW5Q09MdELFj9iARLs8ESJ4dJ3w8_Efy58yQvVX-A-_J1PkVz9KsMyTZBi4qBKTPQMtVmIy4TOEvVdFjJwBv1lmeLaFELCn1C5a4D1xILms9L1GGQ/s1600/406556_10150470995379144_414866734_n.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marylou and me at Squaw Valley Ski Resort for my wedding.</td></tr>
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For the first time in my life I can say, unequivocally, that my sister is also my friend. I trust her with my innermost secrets free of the feeling that I will be judged or that they will used against me one day. As a matter of fact, I know that no matter how outlandish my thoughts, feelings or confessions are, when I expose them to my sister it will only draw us closer together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_RlLwTGwjxNe7ZduP0aM-tNN7TY2usFgxnYeTWYF-Af8ahSinxrMYE7ZGFMe4Fof0CfPmFUt7iFGd5HhSNp25g6lQilF8yg93uK_EPRxhPbZ-YtxvpQJIQ2f5rP6aWyQgz-eF1OaMWs/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+3232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_RlLwTGwjxNe7ZduP0aM-tNN7TY2usFgxnYeTWYF-Af8ahSinxrMYE7ZGFMe4Fof0CfPmFUt7iFGd5HhSNp25g6lQilF8yg93uK_EPRxhPbZ-YtxvpQJIQ2f5rP6aWyQgz-eF1OaMWs/s1600/lynns+phone+east+coast+3232.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister and I actually goofing off and having fun...together!</td></tr>
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Befriending my sister and <i>accepting</i> our similarities rather than trying to force superior airs has been one of the most liberating experiences in my life. The time we recently spent together has only strengthened our bond. We spent hours practicing yoga side by side...sometimes in below freezing weather and sometimes <a href="http://talesfromthemutiny.blogspot.com/2014/02/rambling-yogi-episode-3kingston-ontario.html">dripping in sweat</a>. I really believe our connection has deepened from both the tragic death of our father and the light and love we expressed in our shared yoga space. There is comfort in the fact that I know she will always be there for me, and I for her, not just because we are sisters but because we are friends.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><b>Happy Valentine's Day.</b></i></span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-76968466162359453882013-11-12T17:57:00.000-08:002013-11-12T17:57:05.464-08:00Finding Compassion in the Pause<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgIB8h3JIF34C8-bGj5nDk3b6FhPBLpt53Wuyogs7l2pke6V5cjms0DuiKuGE6IqlYFnxHLnKs3H3EzRYZ8Z0KuxM-7ID_tLNt4G0nFOTpmvjO-NMLF70h-QNci5b_LS2j8gIH7p8F7E/s1600/IMG_20131027_095606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgIB8h3JIF34C8-bGj5nDk3b6FhPBLpt53Wuyogs7l2pke6V5cjms0DuiKuGE6IqlYFnxHLnKs3H3EzRYZ8Z0KuxM-7ID_tLNt4G0nFOTpmvjO-NMLF70h-QNci5b_LS2j8gIH7p8F7E/s400/IMG_20131027_095606.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise yoga for one...North Carolina.</td></tr>
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I am trying to be a good student of yoga. I have a passion for it, not just because some of the poses are challenging and "impressive" but I really, really feel a connection deep inside. The more I practice, the more I meditate, the more I sit and look at the beauty and wonder and ever changing miracle of life around me the more connected I feel. It's a kind of peace and love and warmth that isn't just inside of me, but inside of everyone I meet (they might not all be nice at first but I can feel that there is something good in all of us).<br />
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Still though, many times during the day I catch myself being negative and judgmental. I try to use each instance as a lesson to either release the thought (recognize it as a habit of thinking, see that it serves no positive purpose and then let it go) or to find the root (am I projecting my own insecurities, am I harming someone else by speaking negatively just to boost myself). I might not be successful in eliminating these thoughts but it is important to think on them...and even more important to do so before speaking or reacting. Not something easily accomplished in our fast paced, instant gratification based society.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgRyKvWN1CVJrZLulX5_dsYcgxVL2vJeLYlhYvilXceurujuGiWPviWbE53Z8x5oBlQ7-mJcQWRn4WWxH-bY9mfIH7sw6-HRbpe7kevUGM919j0-V0nR5dZTG9HqZNuivh3Bz0p8YVtLI/s1600/eckhart-tolle-quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgRyKvWN1CVJrZLulX5_dsYcgxVL2vJeLYlhYvilXceurujuGiWPviWbE53Z8x5oBlQ7-mJcQWRn4WWxH-bY9mfIH7sw6-HRbpe7kevUGM919j0-V0nR5dZTG9HqZNuivh3Bz0p8YVtLI/s400/eckhart-tolle-quote.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://beyogabelove.wordpress.com/">Source</a></td></tr>
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With the advent of social media, like Facebook or Twitter we are becoming blinded to the fact that with the simplicity of that 'share' (or retweet) button we can affect hundreds, or even thousands, of people. With barely a thought about what it is we are <i>actually</i> sharing (which often doesn't take into consideration the possible impact it can have on who the "share" is about) we are actually providing insight into our own character that might not be so flattering. In some instances we become a propagator of misinformation or a free mouth piece for whatever "cause" we are for or against, helping to perpetuate the division in our country, our cultures, our races or our religions. And sometimes we are hurting people...<i>real</i> people.<br />
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We complain about bullies and post horrendous stories (sometimes our own) of the pain and/or suicide of it's victims, and then we post a "funny" picture of a 'fat' girl in too tight shorts. The comments make us laugh and we justify our behavior because it's funny...perhaps to everyone except that girl. We 'bend the rules' to fit our lives because <i><b>we</b></i> think we are special. We post pictures making fun of other people but how would it feel if somehow, someone posted an unflattering image of<b> us</b> and that it had made it's way around the internet? Even strangers have feelings, believe it or not.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsuHdE4x8g9uuutNobMK237zNFNYdHpwuzGvpChueP3BMcVCBVqVr5NIBu-yk91OtXVbKKzxZpR7a0-8RhzP4Sei3ks7DCrRD9cVNCqRJbzDxgOpDKXae6gHGHKFY8yUeffS2xJyKEEw/s1600/e7d0e1e8-33fa-4047-a93e-bae36c03a9c0_seida_viral_photo-620x412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsuHdE4x8g9uuutNobMK237zNFNYdHpwuzGvpChueP3BMcVCBVqVr5NIBu-yk91OtXVbKKzxZpR7a0-8RhzP4Sei3ks7DCrRD9cVNCqRJbzDxgOpDKXae6gHGHKFY8yUeffS2xJyKEEw/s400/e7d0e1e8-33fa-4047-a93e-bae36c03a9c0_seida_viral_photo-620x412.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caitlin Seida found herself "Facebook Famous" after this picture was spread across the Internet. "Why are people like her allowed to exist" was one of hundreds of negative comments about her body left on her picture. Not so funny anymore, huh? (<a href="http://shine.yahoo.com/ellen-good-news/when-embarrassing-facebook-photos-go-viral--a-cautionary-tale-205506194.html">Source</a>)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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It's nothing new really. We've always 'bent the rules' to make it work. Otherwise there wouldn't be a <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Health/100-million-dieters-20-billion-weight-loss-industry/story?id=16297197">$20 billion weight loss industry</a>. Allow me to simplify things here for the sake of argument...thanks to marketing, food additives and media/societal perceptions on weight and/or beauty most of us have forgotten how to eat to live. Now, we want the perfect body (or maybe not even perfect but with <a href="http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2012/06/02/why-do-women-hate-their-bodies/">80% of American women unhappy about their appearance </a>we are striving for "better" than what we currently have) but we want to still bend the rules. We want a diet that allows us to eat bacon AND chocolate...preferably with little to no exercise. And when that doesn't work we can blame everything else except ourselves. For the majority of people there's a pretty clear cut way to lose weight, but it's not easy because we can't just eat whatever we want and as much as we want.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQNONfB5TKdzbUH2rW8N2mXSBeP_OIB_g42ub8n9pSSavWFb0enCn_cR3-psSaI3UnrWvJmlo7Eug1yJXGHMRtWjsDmAxy5YqLRgCMq0mGq-FvOxFAAUvNOKJgopAMVgpEoLpu8RnWtk/s1600/tapeworms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheQNONfB5TKdzbUH2rW8N2mXSBeP_OIB_g42ub8n9pSSavWFb0enCn_cR3-psSaI3UnrWvJmlo7Eug1yJXGHMRtWjsDmAxy5YqLRgCMq0mGq-FvOxFAAUvNOKJgopAMVgpEoLpu8RnWtk/s400/tapeworms.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bcliving.ca/health/13-ridiculous-and-dangerous-diets">Source</a></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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We do it with religion, a subject so taboo I won't delve too far into it except to say that we tend to pick and choose which principles we want to follow. A good question to ask before reacting (or posting on Facebook) is how is this going to reflect on my principles and intentions? If my religion is appealing because it is steeped in generosity and non-judgment, will posting negative remarks about another religion reflect those beliefs? Will posting a deeply spiritual sentiment about God's grace have any real meaning if it's followed up by a negative (possibly slanderous) meme about a political figure you disagree with that has no factual basis but it's sole intent is to harm (it's the same as "gossip")?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4_kwSQKnQ-XziXT0aspxmYYwnGpmNFv7V_ZMT1ubyQvR_24D99PpxbmdxQTuTFShnB2mc0G1uZkzI1-vVap07vHXlybgJxEqkTPsIKTI4HNMs-UaMMtJvmxBL7dKKPABo_wr3O0A8_A/s400/jon-stewart-religion-quote.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.prosebeforehos.com/">Source</a></td></tr>
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This bending of the rules (or, as I see it, thinking <i>I'm</i> somehow more special and therefor it's okay for<i> me</i> to do) is something I've become more aware of lately. I recently read a post by a young lady (and devoted Buddhist practitioner) who says she wants to take her vows to become a Buddhist nun yet she disagrees with the requirement of shaving her head and refuses to do so. I understand the dilemma, I would look awful with a shaved head. However, I cannot imagine putting my vanity (call it a symbol of feminism as she claims but we are female without hair too) above a calling like becoming a nun. I wonder if this woman is really trying to make a stand against what she calls an "outdated ritual" or if this is an example of wanting to have our cake and eat it too? If my calling was to join the military surely that would mean wearing a uniform and abiding by the requirements about hair length even if olive green isn't my color, right?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqaO6GuhmqYXTvY5pjWAXRtqQil3vWrytxhcnqIGv4qNT261vCdD_0VNb208OczzqlzDedpoYupTfjhl6yrYUmuoK8JSAdXQDm9X_F8pDuuK4O61266BI2rMMIfub46us2o7NwYsFKspU/s1600/1425519_737924539570141_2123441007_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqaO6GuhmqYXTvY5pjWAXRtqQil3vWrytxhcnqIGv4qNT261vCdD_0VNb208OczzqlzDedpoYupTfjhl6yrYUmuoK8JSAdXQDm9X_F8pDuuK4O61266BI2rMMIfub46us2o7NwYsFKspU/s640/1425519_737924539570141_2123441007_n.jpg" width="433" /></a></div>
As our world speeds up and our information stream and subsequent learning becomes more and more condensed we are facing the possible loss of our true intentions and authenticity. We want things to be 'better' but we don't want to have to be the ones to put in the effort. We want bullying to end but we still want to laugh at the People of Walmart. We want to get healthy or lose weight or get off our blood pressure meds, but we don't want to give up our favorite foods, even if we <i>know</i> they are bad for us (we would rather believe the food manufacturers whose sole purpose is to make a profit, <b>not</b> look after our health). We would rather believe lies that help justify our behavior (be it hatred and prejudices or the need to be "right"), and even spread these lies rather than do what might be uncomfortable yet rewarding beyond measure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVY9p1vgjlbKgN9O3HZ_3t12pJX1ee4YfUv4KdD2npF7F5a6qPBuyWv9x9i5qg_ww_freISkCe6y2WjZoiqqo3XEi6x0ITBI5uYyU5Xqrq38Hc3r6tg3oR15soKnTLThC4qOtqzRNM3pI/s1600/breathe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVY9p1vgjlbKgN9O3HZ_3t12pJX1ee4YfUv4KdD2npF7F5a6qPBuyWv9x9i5qg_ww_freISkCe6y2WjZoiqqo3XEi6x0ITBI5uYyU5Xqrq38Hc3r6tg3oR15soKnTLThC4qOtqzRNM3pI/s640/breathe.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This blog is called Learning Curves for a reason. I am learning as I go...and as I grow. I am guilty of doing everything I just talked about but am learning to live with more compassion. I try to pause and ask how my comment or reaction or speech will be of any benefit (or harm). As cheesy as I always thought those "What Would Jesus Do" stickers were I can now see that they serve as that same pause. That's a pretty precious moment, that pause, it's there for all of us to use wisely if we so choose. It's that moment between the inhale and the exhale where we can make massive changes. Even if we don't think we have time to meditate, we <i>can</i> meditate upon that pause thousands of times a day by asking how our thoughts, actions and words are going to be of service <i>before</i> we react, speak, type or hit that 'share' button. Get to know your own pause and see if it's in line with how you want the world to see the real you. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-47860657130326318692013-10-22T14:00:00.001-07:002013-10-22T14:00:56.029-07:00The Story of a Runner Turned Yogi...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh52-59oCC5ar7MCaoacj9kBAwsMz2jkWB3waBDySU9oBrxbWfck4YJusBwBXpj02Y8KZp9z_S-9i3wL_oIDw2BRUAyVCy1yGS05LnPu6W3p0nBpgmFyTYHKMrq6jTTDJZVzyvTuFrif_I/s1600/553092_10151846531154144_1025259331_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh52-59oCC5ar7MCaoacj9kBAwsMz2jkWB3waBDySU9oBrxbWfck4YJusBwBXpj02Y8KZp9z_S-9i3wL_oIDw2BRUAyVCy1yGS05LnPu6W3p0nBpgmFyTYHKMrq6jTTDJZVzyvTuFrif_I/s320/553092_10151846531154144_1025259331_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
When I come to my yoga mat every morning I try to leave my expectations behind. This is a practice, a blending of breath with the flow of movement, not something to conquer or master or dominate but something to experience and embrace. It wasn't always that way and I'm not always successful at doing so. Yoga started off for me as a way to earn P.E. credits in college and later turned into a means to "force" myself to stretch when I became a runner. I sought out the more aggressive videos like power flow and later, P90X so that my yoga days would feel more like a <i>workout</i> than a time suck...I mean, can you really count 60 minutes of stretching to spa music as working out (especially when 5 of those minutes were laying on the ground in corpse pose doing nothing)?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vM0rmo4cckI9GPYFb8h87SF20dhwdd5Q8PTm_l_8TnHel1BQyXFFXu3r-sAbzM5bp9DNiJNhNYBGqZ6O_LaO2VGC39TTIbwcFr12XtN1UpwLlrX02OJuZIFdxsDR9T31oyVwbjlJl74/s1600/263127_10150238369314144_669434143_7073504_5073914_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vM0rmo4cckI9GPYFb8h87SF20dhwdd5Q8PTm_l_8TnHel1BQyXFFXu3r-sAbzM5bp9DNiJNhNYBGqZ6O_LaO2VGC39TTIbwcFr12XtN1UpwLlrX02OJuZIFdxsDR9T31oyVwbjlJl74/s400/263127_10150238369314144_669434143_7073504_5073914_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My previous mentality...</td></tr>
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In my mid 30's I felt that I was no longer running for health benefits but more as a way to <i>run away from life</i>. I was disconnected from my body and mind, pushing myself into injuries and brushing it off as 'true dedication'...<i>"See how committed I am?? I'm running with a torn hip flexor and fracture in my foot!!"</i>. After finally being forced to take 6 months off (via a cast) I found other forms of exercise to fill the void...boxing, cross fit, kettle bells, HIIT, P90X, Insanity, BodyRock, etc. before turning back to running. Yoga took a back seat again (actually, it got left behind at the rest stop). But the disconnect still persisted and I was faced with results that weren't fulfilling me mentally or physically. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I earned my orange headband completing Tough Mudder Norcal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOLUkh1CTfcAuyKFlXwuogSY99jIDNbTzWV89xRvTwp1qr_0h3ZW3pTDD1ee64cnslW56quLJtgmNFmi4bFA4Ojro1W7DL0btczd8DK9wntWibeEKY1bG1aAtKJwm297DJaEwcuuqIVI/s1600/257609_10150212846628532_587363531_7035557_283980_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOLUkh1CTfcAuyKFlXwuogSY99jIDNbTzWV89xRvTwp1qr_0h3ZW3pTDD1ee64cnslW56quLJtgmNFmi4bFA4Ojro1W7DL0btczd8DK9wntWibeEKY1bG1aAtKJwm297DJaEwcuuqIVI/s400/257609_10150212846628532_587363531_7035557_283980_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the finish line with my BFF Coleen at the Rock n' Roll San Diego Marathon.</td></tr>
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Although I do love the mental and physical aspects of the events I participated in like a full marathon and Tough Mudder, I also knew that these types of physically demanding challenges weren't something I aspired to maintain for the rest of my life (and yes, I am aware of the <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2011/10/17/sports/main20121401.shtml">100 year old man who completed the Toronto Marathon</a> as well as the<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/28/nyregion/otto-mond-the-80-year-old-marathon-man.html?_r=0"> 80 year old man who has run 19 NYC Marathons</a>). I'm no wimp, don't get me wrong...but I don't want to continue to dedicate the amount of time and effort into training for marathon after marathon for the next 40+ (God willing) years. My last marathon did a number on me...breaking down muscles and mentally challenging me during long and lonely 18+ mile training runs. While it was an overall positive experience which I am proud of, it's just not sustainable for me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SIddha Yoga Ashram in Oakland...a turning point.</td></tr>
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Over the past couple of years I've learned that yoga has so much more to offer
than a limber body and a means to work out the kinks. A visit to an
ashram in Oakland opened my eyes to the<a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/basics/158"> true meaning of yoga as well as the 7 other limbs to enlightenment</a>...something I was in desperate need
of at that point in my life. So, about a year ago (a little while after we officially hit the road as fulltime travelers) I stopped running and committed myself to practicing yoga almost exclusively. And this time my yoga practice would incorporate more than just asanas (although I am going to post pictures of some of these poses, because asana is one of the limbs).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuBsUo_sTD4vBXcBOqhM4oavvgzBCj9aWKncP_EiiEL4h_huJA1R6JtpgaG9rgdp2NK69jLpA-_HBXVVOYKxDJ0128cIjRF8L3yHcWrBlwsOtf3bYY7xHkwECFA4cywP9VSVpV8Kq588/s1600/524886_10151430903849144_279986379_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuBsUo_sTD4vBXcBOqhM4oavvgzBCj9aWKncP_EiiEL4h_huJA1R6JtpgaG9rgdp2NK69jLpA-_HBXVVOYKxDJ0128cIjRF8L3yHcWrBlwsOtf3bYY7xHkwECFA4cywP9VSVpV8Kq588/s400/524886_10151430903849144_279986379_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Practicing pigeon pose on Glaveston Island, Texas</td></tr>
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In that time I have felt a definite and positive shift in my health and mental well being. I've also not only maintained the muscle mass I had previously acquired but my aches and pains have diminished (specifically in my back, sciatic, hips and knees...some of which have troubled me since I was a teenager). My core has strengthened as well as my upper body and my balance has improved. But the biggest change has been more profound. I feel very connected to my body...its changes, its needs, its sensitive areas and places of resistance.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking an amazing class in Contoocook New Hampshire...possibly my favorite class to date.</td></tr>
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I also feel an interconnectedness with every thing around me...the wind, the trees, the water, the seasons...even people I encounter. Rather than jumping to harsh judgements I embrace that pause between seeing and completing a thought and instead, imagine the struggles they are going through...and even if they aren't struggling I can imagine the journey it has taken me to get to where I am physically and mentally and remember that no one can map out another person's journey nor can they force another to even embark on that journey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAz9oecYw5dREGagcSF6akaWEHjL8SuGhDoijVTl7X4bDadblzdpMXZwxBbiUigEXeo3w116y6_HJe47QmA7XNqapnMtnuFVs5OTvGZlEXVDkXqkaMGXfGJKjbqzHoj9HDSFF58JbL_g/s1600/1374212_10151912704964144_836395070_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAz9oecYw5dREGagcSF6akaWEHjL8SuGhDoijVTl7X4bDadblzdpMXZwxBbiUigEXeo3w116y6_HJe47QmA7XNqapnMtnuFVs5OTvGZlEXVDkXqkaMGXfGJKjbqzHoj9HDSFF58JbL_g/s400/1374212_10151912704964144_836395070_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headstand in the Pocono Mountains</td></tr>
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Yoga has provided me the peace and serenity that previously came only from a pill or the sheer exhaustion of over-training. I am not begrudging anyone who runs or boxes or finds enjoyment from intense physical activity as I still do enjoy riding my bike, hiking and kayaking when I can...I even ran a 5k distance last month and felt exhilarated. I also still have some big dreams and goals, perhaps to climb a mountain or learn to surf. But for me, yoga has provided the missing element of joining body, mind and spirit (with the side benefit of maintaining or even improving my fitness). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP49QLsowq-gNhyphenhyphenOGtBoYfO-Rfw28vjQ3YuFm0UvKxYtqJfDu6dbfH54p8YNQxvIk4KMXcjQkzVo42ilTCZFagBQG6haOEI-nZrjOyLdwD87Qil8wjsQIiFxg1cqgDWRz-7KMocKtNsA/s1600/1393366_10151912019664144_699369084_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAP49QLsowq-gNhyphenhyphenOGtBoYfO-Rfw28vjQ3YuFm0UvKxYtqJfDu6dbfH54p8YNQxvIk4KMXcjQkzVo42ilTCZFagBQG6haOEI-nZrjOyLdwD87Qil8wjsQIiFxg1cqgDWRz-7KMocKtNsA/s400/1393366_10151912019664144_699369084_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning self practice in Pennsylvania</td></tr>
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Some days I leave my mat in tears from emotions which have been stirred from syncing my breath and movement with an open minded willingness to to just be...to just feel...to listen to my needs. Some days I leave my mat with so much energy that I ride my bike or go for a hike or clean the entire RV or even add an additional round of practice complete with arm balances and handstands. And some days I leave my mat content, even happy...a feeling that continues throughout the day and spills over onto the people around me.But I never leave my mat with regret for having taken the time to breath and connect with something deeper than myself, for having taken time for myself I have found the link to every thing around me. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-45291164087685294882013-08-31T11:34:00.001-07:002013-08-31T11:35:48.808-07:00Lessons From My Mother Through the Eyes a Self-Righteous Daughter <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My older sister, me and my mom circa 1972 in Tokyo, Japan.</td></tr>
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I've always loved my mom...but I haven't always respected her. Those are hard words to type and actually bring tears to my eyes. I mean, I don't <i>have</i> to confess this to anyone. I am ashamed of myself. But I've learned so much about her, and myself, since my dad died that I want to scream from the roof tops how amazing she is...and it just wouldn't makes as much sense without telling you that it wasn't always this way.<br />
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I've always gotten along with my mom...she's fun, super nice, always in a good mood and seems to never tire until after her family's needs have been tended to. She talks to everyone and always offers a heartfelt compliment...cashiers, bus boys, toll takers, TSA agents...everyone. She's also a great listener and is the type of person who, instead of trying to turn the conversation around to talk about herself, will ask more questions of the speaker allowing them to remain in the spotlight. She's affectionate and thinks nothing of hugging me and kissing me whenever the urge hits her, even in public (and no matter if I am 6, 16 or 42). If she feels like showing her love she just does it. And her laugh is infectious...you see it in her eyes and you feel it in the air...there's nothing fake about it.<br />
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Our family lived in a kind of vacuum. My dad was in the Air Force and consequently we moved frequently, about every 3 years. Growing up without an extended family around and changing friends regularly meant we pretty much relied on each other as company. The older I got and the more we moved, the less likely I was to try to maintain old friendships and make new ones. I am an introvert and the effort was too much.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXj90yfo6fhW1WrQhBL8ukjqBxbnNKl26c-KPGWs7NSg07SkIWthn_VSHYHlxMWXC1RW0QCRSZXE_a-Lo4aRlhcOQuabyDBmbpPqS5h3riXzn0k92n1F1wx7ZEMLyxpNj2vuNA7JcD2g/s1600/3-Japan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXj90yfo6fhW1WrQhBL8ukjqBxbnNKl26c-KPGWs7NSg07SkIWthn_VSHYHlxMWXC1RW0QCRSZXE_a-Lo4aRlhcOQuabyDBmbpPqS5h3riXzn0k92n1F1wx7ZEMLyxpNj2vuNA7JcD2g/s320/3-Japan.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little family...I have no idea why I'm the only one not smiling...</td></tr>
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Without the influence of other relationships and without the ability to observe other family dynamics the foundation for what I would perceive as <i>normal</i> was laid for me by my parents. Don't get me wrong, this isn't the old blame game...just an observation. My parents did everything they could for my sister and me...including getting us horses. We always had food, new clothes every school year, pets to play with and we always sat down to dinner together. We played games like Yatzee or watched sitcoms in the evening. We took family vacations...normally to visit family in Pennsylvania meaning a major road trip at least once a year, but we also went camping, visited Disney World and saw pretty much all of the tourist attractions in whatever area we happened to be living in at the time.<br />
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So, how is it I lost respect for my mom? Well, my dad was an alcoholic...a functional alcoholic, but an alcoholic none-the-less. I don't know when that happened because in my lifetime, he was always an alcoholic. He grew up on a farm and it was hard work, he dropped out of school in the 8th grade, he was the one who found his father dead of a massive heart attack, he went to Vietnam and saw things no human being should see, early in his career he struggled to provide for his family and he also went undiagnosed as bi-polar for almost his entire life. These aren't excuses but realities. He was the only man I knew and the only man for a very long time who would have any influence on my life and experiences. And he took his suffering out on my mom by belittling her in front of his children.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom visiting us in Santa Cruz.</td></tr>
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I doubt he understood the harm he was causing from his behavior (god, I hope not) but his disappointment with my mom for various, sometimes petty things seemed never ending. In time I learned that his disappointment was really about himself , something my mom and I talked about during our last visit.<br />
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My mom rarely stood her ground, at least not that we could see. The more it happened (which equated to the 'worse' of a drunk he became and the longer he went without treatment for his mental health disorder) the weaker my mom appeared in my eyes. Us kids would test the grounds ourselves, offering a few disrespectful comments here and there, speaking down to her and ultimately feeling superior or maybe smarter than her and we felt no repercussions from our behavior. I don't believe we were ever cruel nor was this an intentional act but more like a learned behavior. Also, it is not abnormal for there to be a sort of 'power struggle' between teen girls and their mother as part of the growing process.<br />
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But what gets me is that somewhere down inside I knew my dad had a problem. Yet, I chose his relationship style over my mom's. I saw my mom more and more as a push-over and people pleaser rather than a parental figure and a loving, sensitive person (who also needed to be loved back). I guess I thought that in order for me to be a success I needed to be more like my dad. After all, he was a middle school drop out who had managed to earn his master's degree while working his full-time job in the military (and still earning promotions) and raising a family. He was smart, driven, sarcastic, condescending, judgmental (yet afraid of confrontation) and moody. He was my hero...and he was kind of an asshole to my mom.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parent's wedding day...August 26, 1967.</td></tr>
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I know he loved her, provided for her and even she will tell you that if she wanted for something he would be sure she got it. But apparently, his need...the need to feel feel superior and less like a failure due to his own insecurities...required him to belittle her. And she took it. And I wondered why she didn't leave him even though there was no where for her to go. She had sacrificed her own dreams and career to follow him around the world as an Air Force wife. They were married in 1967...things were different then and women just didn't up an leave, especially since my dad's alcoholism was our family's secret due to his military career. The longer she stayed with him, as he spiraled further into the abyss that is alcoholism, the more I wanted her to leave.<br />
<br />
But she did stay...for 42 years. And one day they were in a car accident and my dad died. And my mom became this amazingly strong person right before my eyes. Perhaps that strong person was always there but the shadow my dad made snuffed out the light she needed to blossom or for us to even notice.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWftTES4DCdjedFJzInLT7cBZV7w23FFKthzHHI47p7QroQaMa0cSjYMPmiDuILHls6xE33J-PwhjAt6Wl80pEzrkK341PxBptXnmPHvZV1YmqldrgQ4T5cac2dDErlg-KHMolVQiviI/s1600/340658_2880279174420_287122477_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWftTES4DCdjedFJzInLT7cBZV7w23FFKthzHHI47p7QroQaMa0cSjYMPmiDuILHls6xE33J-PwhjAt6Wl80pEzrkK341PxBptXnmPHvZV1YmqldrgQ4T5cac2dDErlg-KHMolVQiviI/s400/340658_2880279174420_287122477_o.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doesn't my mom just glow?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I spent 6 weeks with her this past spring and I finally talked to her about all of these thoughts I've had. I confessed to her the misguided judgements I had passed even though my own life was far from perfect and some of my own past relationships were perhaps worse in comparison. It's so easy to tell someone else how to improve their life rather than work on your own.<br />
<br />
She spoke to me of the lack of emotion from him early on in their relationship which she led her to shower us with the love<i> </i>that not only she had but also what <i>he</i> felt for us, but could not show. She didn't let his fear of people and crowds (he was painfully introverted) diminish her love for them and she always had friends. She didn't let his moodiness be cast on her like a wet blanket but instead let her joy show not only in her smile but in her entire being. She didn't let his irrational and spontaneous ideas (he once bought a show car with money he had pulled out of an investment with steep penalties for early withdrawal...without telling her) take away from the needs of her children, always finding ways to make ends meet even though it was she who often got blamed for over-spending.<br />
<br />
You see, I found that my mom, in a way, has learned something a lot of us struggle with daily. <i>We</i> have the ability (and the right) to choose how happy we want to be...even if we are surrounded by unhappiness. Although she chose to 'stick it out' with my dad, she did so under her own power and with her own principles in mind. Surely she wasn't <i>always</i> happy...and perhaps she wondered about the 'what-if's'...don't we all? But she took a bad situation and not only lived through it but <i>thrived</i>...as a strong woman who is still so full of joy and goodness.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHZNz5URnIo55AnvmUADgshnqEmH0fqfYiBvxQNEhj3iPuGbOe-OitQ2ZJndtqF16WJiGMtKDhzrpOXdzd6371IO1eDP7-qA2bR9ZgISfldWghkbtEKcP14Aw4xPcboHVxOpfywk-B6c/s1600/IMG_7120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYHZNz5URnIo55AnvmUADgshnqEmH0fqfYiBvxQNEhj3iPuGbOe-OitQ2ZJndtqF16WJiGMtKDhzrpOXdzd6371IO1eDP7-qA2bR9ZgISfldWghkbtEKcP14Aw4xPcboHVxOpfywk-B6c/s400/IMG_7120.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom made the bouquet for my wedding in Tahoe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I don't look at my mom as a weak person anymore. <i><b>She is strong beyond belief</b>.</i> While I was full of self-righteousness and thought she should be <i>better</i> or <i>different</i> than what she was, she was accepting of all of us <i>just as we were</i>. Trust me, there is a lesson in that. She deserves my respect and then some.<br />
<br />
These days, while I still long for the approval from a dead father who was never one to show emotion anyway, I find myself ever thankful that my mother has shown me that it doesn't really matter and to just be happy with what it is <i>I</i> am doing. My hope now is to one day be as strong and loving as my mom.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-68304363719123394272013-08-27T08:07:00.003-07:002013-08-27T08:07:52.502-07:00My Online Friends ARE Just As Important As Your Real Life Friends<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrC1Gz_RC0KEjR3_GxbPL1IZmTWfrm91eezTYw9OoFZDxozPu3KxhcHHg_rvmxL_2MMpvvWvYLFm5UKzKhyphenhyphenhuuTdUSbjd63F0WB1ulo4KzJPYK_euDWYnTG3OL5krF2y-9ZMVFGEdydk/s1600/Article_114_width_710_height_340_crop_True_center_True_quality_75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrC1Gz_RC0KEjR3_GxbPL1IZmTWfrm91eezTYw9OoFZDxozPu3KxhcHHg_rvmxL_2MMpvvWvYLFm5UKzKhyphenhyphenhuuTdUSbjd63F0WB1ulo4KzJPYK_euDWYnTG3OL5krF2y-9ZMVFGEdydk/s400/Article_114_width_710_height_340_crop_True_center_True_quality_75.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bitescience.com/Knowledgedatabase/Article/tabid/81/ArticleID/114/ArticleName/DifferentPeopleDifferentExperiencesTeensTalkAboutOnlineFriendshipsAndIdentity/Access/Anonymous/Default.aspx">Source</a></td></tr>
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Have you ever had people in your life tell you that your "online friends" are not <i>really</i> friends? Or that the Internet and Social Media has <b>ruined</b> the meaning of relationships? Perhaps they recommend you get out more and try meeting <i>real</i> people so you can build <i>real</i> relationships because, to them, those are the only kind that "count".<br />
<br />
Yes, the Internet has changed the way people interact...sometimes for the worse. But what if, <i>what if</i> that one person you seem to connect with through blogging or email or even Instagram really <i>gets you</i>...and there seems to be so many parallels in your lives that you feel like you could have been the same person.<br />
<br />
As some of you may know, my husband and I are traveling around the country in our RV (see our adventure blog <a href="http://talesfromthemutiny.blogspot.com/">here</a>). We've been on the road now almost 11 months and have just crossed our 21st state line. And this past weekend our travels brought us to South Bend, Indiana (well, I'm the navigator so I kinda made sure our paths would cross eventually) home of my all-time favorite blogger, Ellen.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hlB_qzER0jPZMBb75pjCNxXFWkeoQzukMZO9Eos5DSlmL7QhfqDGK1NisXzo9wwkFY3hyphenhyphenEXKCRryrrn-P_KaATnxVBfIWyriQCm_fxtDN1gc2BcLoiRmfC5xD07QRRJqdkhj2zKhMbY/s1600/IMG_20130822_115810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_hlB_qzER0jPZMBb75pjCNxXFWkeoQzukMZO9Eos5DSlmL7QhfqDGK1NisXzo9wwkFY3hyphenhyphenEXKCRryrrn-P_KaATnxVBfIWyriQCm_fxtDN1gc2BcLoiRmfC5xD07QRRJqdkhj2zKhMbY/s320/IMG_20130822_115810.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting closer!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I 'met' Ellen through her blog <a href="http://www.fatgirlwearingthin.com/">Fat Girl Wearing Thin</a> which I came across on another bloggers "Blogs Worth Reading List". It's true that what keeps people reading your blog is great writing...which Ellen does...but I also noticed that, aside from being the same age, we had so much in common. I left comments here and there on her blog and noticed she had actually started to read mine as well. We began emailing each other because, frankly, I didn't want to sound like a lunatic by sharing some of my personal thoughts directly on her blog (even though I was still afraid of rejection and was sure she would be far too busy to email back I hit that send button anyway...and then second guessed myself and paced the floors). Not only did she email me back but we became instant <strike>online</strike> friends.<br />
<br />
You see, I am a huge introvert and I have a hard time making friends. Don't get me wrong...I am as loyal as the day is long. And I think I'm pretty nice. But I either become a wallflower when it comes to meeting new people or, if I manage to open my mouth, I ramble...and get goofy. Most of the time new people think I am stuck up, but really I am painfully shy. So making a connection, albeit online, is a <i>big</i> deal. And meeting in person...well, that's a sweat inducing, stomach turning, try to find a way to back out it proposition.<br />
<br />
But it was different with Ellen. <br />
<br />
Other than being worried about utterly ridiculous things...like I should have been working out while on the road, she's going to think I look fat, what if I start to sweat profusely and do I have a booger hanging...it feels like I have a booger hanging...I had no where near the amount of anxiety I normally get in these types of situations. And let me tell you, the moment I saw her I thought I would burst into tears. It honestly felt like I was falling into the arms of one of my closest and dearest friend. I felt this way having never even spoken with her on the phone!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoitdLr_4EAVdQSo39vGbvMHiuMJNak98Bhg5dLxaC-k8bvT58oX1zYjrM_MhLJGGEtpNAMoUb6a8C-N2bHxzYbMAxPD8vK21IX2eYNpdrle6Ya5PjvNxld_8zHhf5AMh_EjpVpqIFSTw/s1600/2013-08-24+20.04.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoitdLr_4EAVdQSo39vGbvMHiuMJNak98Bhg5dLxaC-k8bvT58oX1zYjrM_MhLJGGEtpNAMoUb6a8C-N2bHxzYbMAxPD8vK21IX2eYNpdrle6Ya5PjvNxld_8zHhf5AMh_EjpVpqIFSTw/s400/2013-08-24+20.04.10.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellen and I in front of The Mutiny.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We ended up spending the entire weekend together and even allowed our husbands to tag along. Thankfully they got along as well, even if they kept teasing us about how similar Ellen and I are (especially our little 'quirks' which face it, makes us even cuter). We spent hours chatting, enjoyed a few cocktails and I even got to see Ellen's studio and all of her amazing art work. She met my cats Avi and Miso and the devil dog, Cleo and I got to meet the super lovable Emmie and Brulee...oh, and her cool Angel Fish. <i>And there was never a moment of awkwardness. </i><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaP-7hJJsrO8DBSKv3RlqDVGJ-I4sF8SRfmtkitDw3JzcR8u0Jf-xFbzz6XmI4dGUd-qX27nPTUzlIlbVrEn9rTUQwIBzMRybYrS3vUhiAf2tfuToYALRYCju2zcOKdivpx0CAnWYBOH0/s1600/2013-08-25+15.47.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaP-7hJJsrO8DBSKv3RlqDVGJ-I4sF8SRfmtkitDw3JzcR8u0Jf-xFbzz6XmI4dGUd-qX27nPTUzlIlbVrEn9rTUQwIBzMRybYrS3vUhiAf2tfuToYALRYCju2zcOKdivpx0CAnWYBOH0/s320/2013-08-25+15.47.36.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The most friendly, interactive fish I've ever met.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBEavdta4jH7ajmq1z4KRUThV1sa8uW5MO7EXcUjuSDKo4EalB2JROdOSRrzo7EDv-xMVO0gMSAcCVNP3ZBFs_MS103eNIURGxOV0Qb4TIoS4dZvffwneztQvIr7N5vayvJWfjOPdQKQ/s1600/1146480_10202070861843206_439987270_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBEavdta4jH7ajmq1z4KRUThV1sa8uW5MO7EXcUjuSDKo4EalB2JROdOSRrzo7EDv-xMVO0gMSAcCVNP3ZBFs_MS103eNIURGxOV0Qb4TIoS4dZvffwneztQvIr7N5vayvJWfjOPdQKQ/s400/1146480_10202070861843206_439987270_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying dinner out with the husbands.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, I guess what I want to say to the nay-sayers is that it <i>is</i> possible to make a real and true connection with people online. As a matter of fact, we can quite possibly find deeper and more meaningful friendships when we remove the boundaries of distance. If we keep ourselves confined to forming relationships based on how many miles separate us then we might miss out on finding that special someone who shares the same 'quirks', someone who knows how we feel without even uttering a word.<br />
<br />
My weekend with Ellen was extraordinary. I am so very fortunate to have a life that has allowed me to meet her in person. Although we already had a great connection, being able to sit and talk has certainly deepened our relationship, especially since both of us are introverts. Honestly, I just can't get over how easily things clicked...obviously our online communication laid down a pretty good foundation.<br />
<br />
Being on the road (and an introvert to boot) makes it extremely difficult to make friends. Sure I talk to people occasionally but there is never really enough time to form any kind of bond. And of the few I have exchanged email addresses or friended on Facebook I find myself holding back, afraid to come across 'too aggressive' or <i>needy</i> if I bombard them with messages. Perhaps this experience with Ellen will enable me to take that leap and attempt to form a few more online friendships. <br />
<br />
But what I do know...again, after 11 months on the road...is that if a friendship starts out online there seems to be a better likelihood that we will remain in constant contact than the friendships formed in real life. Maybe it's because emailing, texting and interacting online is what we know, whereas IRL friends are used to just coming over and hanging out. It seems much harder for a real life friendship to make the transition to online friend than for an online friend to become a real life friend. I'm sure I am just as guilty at failing to make that transition but it makes me sad nonetheless.<br />
<br />
Friends are important no matter how the relationship is born. So take a moment and hug your friends if you can...and if not send them a virtual hug and let them know how important they are in your life.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-16144549530307828392013-07-15T14:54:00.000-07:002013-07-15T14:54:13.275-07:00Hitting Rock Bottom...A Story of Personal Accountability<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">“Ester asked why people are sad.<br />"That’s simple," says the old man.
"They are the prisoners of their personal history. Everyone believes
that the main aim in life is to follow a plan. They never ask if that
plan is theirs or if it was created by another person. They accumulate
experiences, memories, things, other people's ideas, and it is more than
they can possibly cope with. And that is why they forget their dreams.”
<br /> ―
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/566.Paulo_Coelho">Paulo Coelho</a>,
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3341790">The Zahir</a></span>
</i></blockquote>
Sometimes I get sad. I know we all do and that it's a perfectly "normal" emotion but I find myself feeling selfish (on top of sad)...as if I don't have the right to be depressed.<br />
<br />
Years ago (and who really knows when it all started) I suffered from pretty severe depression. Severe enough that over the years I went from a being hospitalized anorexic to an over-weight binge eater to a self-sabotaging, controlling bitch of a wife to a divorced, needy, recluse who couldn't leave the house for anything other than work since that actually gave me a reason to live. I took Paxil just to be able to muster the "I-give-just-enough-of-a-shit" to take a shower and feed myself at least once in a while.<br />
<br />
During my stint in the psyche ward in Anchorage, Alaska (for anorexia) I went to therapy sessions daily. They ranged from one-on-ones to groups with a lot of role-playing, acting as the concern parents or as each other as outside observers. I was only 16 (I celebrated my 17th birthday in the hospital, as well as Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years) so I was still looking for others to tell me how to feel and show me how to act. I wasn't ready to be a grown up and with high school graduation looming I knew I was at a crossroads...no longer the youngest child and certainly not ready to face real life. Still, I learned a lot.<br />
<br />
After my discharge I went almost a decade without professional help although I struggled immensely as my weight fluctuated up and down the scale and my life remained out-of-control. I married a military man because it was the only life style I knew. Even though the chaos of moving every 2-3 years had previously worn me down my young self saw no way out of it at the time...I depended on the medical benefits. Instead of trying to find happiness I chose to try to control my husband. Things did not end well.<br />
<br />
At some point I decided to search for more answers. I'm analytical...I need to see the map before I can commit to taking the first step. I found an Al-Anon program that met locally as I was sure that the root of all of my "issues" stemmed from my dad's alcoholism. I went 3 times a week to 3 different groups. None of it clicked and frankly, it left me more confused and depressed. I looked at the women in those groups, some of them now grandmothers and great-grandmothers who appeared to still be blaming their parent for their entire lives. I wanted to "get over it" not wallow in pity for the next 40 years. I wanted to <i>heal</i> and found quite the opposite happening in these meetings.<br />
<br />
Shortly after my Al-Anon experience I really hit rock bottom (I know, you'd have thought that would have happened when I was in in-patient care barely clinging to life). I worked as many hours as possible, often for free, just so I wouldn't have to go home. I lived alone and was in the most destructive relationship I've witnessed. Had I been my own friend I would have slapped myself across the face and asked "what in the hell are you doing to yourself?? Get OUT!!". But I didn't like myself and felt that the pain of remaining in this relationship was my Karma...and it was quite possible I deserved worse.<br />
<br />
I beat myself up real good in those few years. It got so I couldn't leave the house and dreaded the weekends when I knew my boyfriend would make promises to come see me but wouldn't...leaving me waiting from Friday after work until Monday morning...unable to sleep, constantly checking my phone or listening for a car door to slam. <i>I missed so much life by just waiting</i>.<br />
<br />
I slept all the time until bruises started to form on my body. Then I got brave enough to see my doctor, sounding utterly pathetic as I explained that while I didn't want to die I also really didn't care if I lived. It was too much work and so exhausting to <i>be</i>. That's when I got the prescription for Paxil.<br />
<br />
I hate taking medication and, as a control freak I really hated taking psychiatric drugs. I naively felt that "smart" people didn't need drugs...we can analyze things and figure it all out with common sense. But I lost complete control and was spiraling deeper into the abyss. The Paxil was able to slowly start applying the brakes.<br />
<br />
In my new mellow state I turned to yoga and meditation and through much diligence was able to get weaned off of the Paxil (with my doctor's help). There were some rough spots and it would have been easy, if not medically sound, to start the pills again but I wanted a clear mind to face the demons head on...even though it was terrifying. The drugs had made me not care...but they didn't <i>fix</i> anything and I wanted to be <i>fixed</i>. If I stopped them cold turkey I would most definitely get sucked right back down that rabbit hole...it was the self-realization and personal accountability that was truly healing me. <br />
<br />
I stopped blaming my <i>dad's</i> alcoholism for <i>my</i> issues...that was a far to easy of a crutch to use as I started to approach my 4th decade of life. I stopped blaming my mom for being co-dependent instead of standing her ground (something I was actually very wrong about and I hope to write about my mom's bravery in a future post). That was <i>her</i> battle and not something I was obligated to become <i>just because she was</i>. I learned to accept and embrace responsibility for myself and my actions. And I didn't just <i>say</i> those words...I mean I embraced it...100%. Yes my dad was an alcoholic but <i>that does not define me</i>!!<br />
<br />
So many people have uttered those words..."I take responsibility" only to follow up with "but so-and-so needs to take responsibility too".<b> No they don't.</b> This is our own journey and while there may be people hanging out on the periphery they do not have control over your life, your emotions or your future...unless you <i>let</i> them have control. And then guess what...it's<i> still </i>your fault for handing over that control.<br />
<br />
It's a hard thing to accept, I know. It means standing in front of a mirror and having a good long talk with yourself. It means facing every situation and making the best decision for you and accepting the consequences good or bad. It means looking at all of those things you'd like to blame your issues on and realizing that you and only you can allow them to continue to control your happiness.<br />
<br />
Use those instances as a crutch and I promise you will never heal. We all have our own lives to live and we all make insanely ridiculous decisions on occasion. But we need to move forward or be stuck reliving those moments for the rest of our lives. My dad was an alcoholic. Some shitty things occurred in my life due to his alcoholism but I have released him from any responsibility for <i>my</i> actions or <i>my</i> current or future happiness. It's only fair. He obviously had his own battles to wage...<br />
<br />
I still get sad...and sometimes it scares the shit out of me. I know from personal experience how precarious the edge can be. I have a wonderful life and have been born into pretty ideal conditions. I often feel guilty when I feel the sadness creeping in. Sometimes the guilt is worse than the sadness...as if I have no right to just be sad. Sometimes I try to fight the sad until it turns into an ugly form of displaced anger. But in the end what I really need is just to be sad. Maybe even cry. And no matter how beautiful my life or how perfect the day I must embrace this sadness and let it have it's moment...with no blame and no guilt.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>*This is my personal story and is in no way intended to replace sound medical advise. Every one is different and it is ill-advised for anyone to stop taking prescribed medication without professional medical supervision as it could have adverse effects on one's mental state. Please seek proper medical advise from a professional for help if you think you suffer from depression. </i></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-56255179107212769522013-04-14T19:39:00.000-07:002013-04-14T19:39:03.738-07:00Love > HateI just spent the last month visiting my mom at her home outside of Montgomery Alabama. We had planned a long stay so that we could do some remodeling in the RV as well as spend some quality time together. What I hadn't planned on was our visit coinciding with the release of the man who caused the automobile accident that killed my father and permanently injured my mother.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qIT-FWYbmGF01F9bqVN2hZDXBzkrSNyZPbebzq-xH9-ONhnrbwvssbG1y8P5HzXjva662H6wHYRA2vct5nG4p5Kx1Upoq0yRTM8mOVStg_Qzd7uY8Z7jKqNdATMUjDf6RBcAYj6siGM/s1600/4216730_vt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qIT-FWYbmGF01F9bqVN2hZDXBzkrSNyZPbebzq-xH9-ONhnrbwvssbG1y8P5HzXjva662H6wHYRA2vct5nG4p5Kx1Upoq0yRTM8mOVStg_Qzd7uY8Z7jKqNdATMUjDf6RBcAYj6siGM/s200/4216730_vt.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A still from the scene of the accident.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHZoH1i5iug_dimolgOQFXJrqyMtGHuc1lqSXViZTkCI4p-_LOoMHHjlIT3sdrtgaShjCTv7EiUwL_dvBjDL8jnnQdS8n5SCcNwBA-K1PpSQiDKdfaFmyaLP_wPjTExDPgFqUkR8nf5A/s1600/IMG_0815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCHZoH1i5iug_dimolgOQFXJrqyMtGHuc1lqSXViZTkCI4p-_LOoMHHjlIT3sdrtgaShjCTv7EiUwL_dvBjDL8jnnQdS8n5SCcNwBA-K1PpSQiDKdfaFmyaLP_wPjTExDPgFqUkR8nf5A/s320/IMG_0815.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My parents car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrfIBd5IrBJdAQ8rU4B7EM42iGnTORGODaWl7jvpZg0EBumcX4wJlFUi7Na_OinPpXDaFGYWUbNBAki2rZeUNMMs8o_z2TCjhF2k3cJDavt7D2Cw7GnfKQWYTUOW9xaw1RWV86f6eLEY/s1600/IMG_0817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrfIBd5IrBJdAQ8rU4B7EM42iGnTORGODaWl7jvpZg0EBumcX4wJlFUi7Na_OinPpXDaFGYWUbNBAki2rZeUNMMs8o_z2TCjhF2k3cJDavt7D2Cw7GnfKQWYTUOW9xaw1RWV86f6eLEY/s320/IMG_0817.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The driver's side of my parents car.</td></tr>
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March 20th would have been my dad's 66th birthday if it hadn't been for that fateful day October 15, 2009. It was a day that found a man too much in a hurry, too irresponsible to have a driver's license...a man who would illegally pass another vehicle only to collide head-on into my parents car. My dad died a week later, my mom still has physical pain every single day. I miss my dad.<br />
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My mom and I made a trip to the Alabama National Cemetery in Montevallo to bring flowers to dad's grave on his birthday. The dreary grey skies soon turned blue as the sun broke through the clouds. As we walked to his marker my mom pointed out that he would have loved the view...his stone faces a pond. A bird skirted through the reeds and stopped to look at us for a long while. If I didn't know any better I'd say that maybe dad had sent that bird.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from his headstone.</td></tr>
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We got a vase and set the yellow and orange mums at the base of his head stone. It still seems so surreal...even after all of these year.<br />
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His birthday fell on a Wednesday. Two days later we were in court to see, perhaps for the last time, the man who caused this heartache. The man who killed my dad and argued in court that 2 years in jail was too harsh of a penalty for what he had done. I didn't know what to expect...would I cry or break down or scream at him? Would he look at me and know that it was MY dad he killed?? Would he know that while he was going to be released the very next morning and be able to hug his family and live his life I would be longing for just 5 more minutes with my dad?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydwnhW2sBi8t3gp_gBwBACMFgv9sC0pDK2R_FOaj708AUuOo2rx3vDaBTsntdL3U1Vh0NNEzUMA3SzpduYzbMoY5RwyKKGPGW5qdqp40Rwh0lsEQ3Oq6VaAzE5Ny3d3kGjSdZDKYmJXE/s1600/harry+xmas+eielson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydwnhW2sBi8t3gp_gBwBACMFgv9sC0pDK2R_FOaj708AUuOo2rx3vDaBTsntdL3U1Vh0NNEzUMA3SzpduYzbMoY5RwyKKGPGW5qdqp40Rwh0lsEQ3Oq6VaAzE5Ny3d3kGjSdZDKYmJXE/s320/harry+xmas+eielson.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad clowning around at work.</td></tr>
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When his name was called and he was brought out of the holding cell my mom and I approached the bench. He never made eye contact but he saw us. He was noticeably nervous. I stared at him trying to read his thoughts...willing him to just turn to us and apologize. Just 3 simple words..."I am sorry".<br />
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They never came. I felt numb. My mind wanted me to scream and an image of me losing control and being dragged off of this man flashed behind my eyes. And then a warm calmness seemed to embrace me. Here's what I wrote that day:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span class="userContent">Today I got to stand next to the man who
killed my father 3 years ago. He served a 2 year sentence and is being
released from jail tomorrow. I felt nothing but pity for this man. I
feel that he does not grasp the enormity of his responsibility for his
actions and his words, some how it's always someone else's fault or
circumstances beyond his control. He, like all of us, is a product of
every deci<span class="text_exposed_show">sion he has made throughout
his life. If he wants forgiveness and perhaps even a happy and
fulfilling life he can start by understanding that every decision, every
action, every thought, every word spoken creates the person we become
and life that we live. Although he is not the victim (although he truly
believes he is in one way or another) I pity him for the life he took
(my dad's) as well as the one he is throwing out the window, his own.</span></span></i></blockquote>
Trust me...I wanted to hate him. I wanted him to die a slow and agonizing death or have someone dear to him be taken away. I wanted to belittle him, yell and make him feel like he would be better off dead. <i>But what I really wanted was my dad to not be dead</i>...and nothing anyone did could make that happen. So, the next best thing was to not allow this man to take any more life from me, to shift the focus off of him (because he doesn't deserve it anyway) and place it on the love I have in my life...the love I feel is even stronger now that this tragedy has taken place.<br />
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I can't explain this shift that occurred. Perhaps it was beyond my control. I'd like to think my dad somehow had something to do with it...I know I dream about him more often now. Certainly getting older has played a part in this new perspective but I think my yoga practice and meditation has also been a factor. I find myself less reactive and more introspective...less willing to allow others to destroy my inner peace and more willing to find empathy. Some might mistakenly believe this is a weakness, that I am being a push over, but its not and I'm not. It takes a certain kind of strength to be responsible for one's feelings and emotions and to forgive those we think we should hate...and in most worlds, have the 'right' to hate.<br />
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But fear not...I am far from perfect and I still get into silly "arguments" with complete strangers on Facebook. I still have 'buttons' that can be pushed and I have yet to really learn how to take a compliment. All of life is a lesson and we are constantly learning. And yoga and meditation are called 'practices' for a reason...seldom, if ever, does anyone attain perfect enlightenment. But it's a journey we all take and we can choose how that road is paved. We can be victims or survivors, we can stay stuck in the mire or persevere until we reach firm ground, we can blame everyone else or take credit for who we are, we can feed the hate or feed the love...for that which we feed grows and what we starve dies.<br />
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We leave Alabama tomorrow and I'm really going to miss my mom. It's been great having all of this time with her. She's the sweetest, most loving person you could ever meet...and I'm not just saying that. I'm thankful that out of this pain our relationship has grown stronger and our love deeper. She's an amazing woman and I'm a very lucky daughter.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivn-IbqnF9nmOl7z7wWlify2P2pDnDeSOuCBKXGsWRUlpuFukvppzA94bP0iXGe4t_cMHG3CDZRxCpd3aj-yFiCcpZwpa9FSpP3IbTywZtHQKMsNRzgnKmyE364LEYOswXF0ho-UlrJT8/s1600/340658_2880279174420_287122477_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivn-IbqnF9nmOl7z7wWlify2P2pDnDeSOuCBKXGsWRUlpuFukvppzA94bP0iXGe4t_cMHG3CDZRxCpd3aj-yFiCcpZwpa9FSpP3IbTywZtHQKMsNRzgnKmyE364LEYOswXF0ho-UlrJT8/s400/340658_2880279174420_287122477_o.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and I at my wedding (she did my flowers).</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-9036010218894567362013-04-13T18:11:00.000-07:002013-04-13T18:30:29.452-07:00Stumbling Through the Creative Process...Often times I have so many thoughts and ideas in my head that I actually become paralyzed. And this is true of writing. I'm the kind of person who has difficulty making decisions when offered too many choices...I'm a true Libra. Other times when I sit at the computer and start typing about things I am passionate about the story seems to fall apart before my eyes. As much as I cut and paste and rewrite, I just can't seem to get it to flow. And as we all know, I'm already "bad" at rambling. I have flaws, true...but I also have things I want to say and words I need to type and stories that may be of no interest to anyone else but still must be written. I need a process to be sure.<br />
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One thing I found out recently is that when I allow for other forms of creativity, it sparks a deeper desire or connection in all areas of my life. We have been staying with my mom in Alabama for the past month. We wanted to take this opportunity to not only spent time with her but to do some remodeling in the RV. Out of necessity I started to learn to sew (with a lot of my mom's help).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMC4UBNLbBXaSot7uzW79R7OYutmlWZWw_2I472i3F15AOVkTUX1Boge9xi9cc3zunTgS4Ajljj9h0YouvUIlv9MB2YuhKpZceerzhAKI1zB-EZkX-sFpEx-bT7RouLBpxJ_JlB7fI_t4/s1600/425123_10151510412434144_768678401_n(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMC4UBNLbBXaSot7uzW79R7OYutmlWZWw_2I472i3F15AOVkTUX1Boge9xi9cc3zunTgS4Ajljj9h0YouvUIlv9MB2YuhKpZceerzhAKI1zB-EZkX-sFpEx-bT7RouLBpxJ_JlB7fI_t4/s320/425123_10151510412434144_768678401_n(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning to sew.</td></tr>
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Somehow, in the course of sewing curtains, making "new" reusable grocery bags and drastically changing the interior of our RV I got inspired to cook, write and take more photos. After months of falsely thinking I was getting my creative inspiration from pictures posted on Pinterest rather than touching, feeling, tasting and smelling life I realized I needed to actually <i>do things</i> rather than just<i> pin things</i>. As much as I thought I would be moved into action by other people's posts I found I was letting my creative spark die out. It was also adding to the clutter in my mind, something I could use less of in the first place.<br />
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Fortunately, I recognized that I was <i>wishing </i>for inspiration rather than actually <i>finding</i> inspiration. For me, the <i>doing</i> is the key to continued creativity which, it seems, can come in many forms. It's a lot like working out and eating healthy...whichever one you start first, the other usually will follow and they will continue to 'feed' off of each other (in a good way). Along the way I gained a different perspective regarding Pinterest...rather than using it as a "If I Were Rich (or skilled or talented or knew how to knit)" wish list I am pinning things that I can use now or in the near future (it was indispensable in coming up with colors and ideas for our RV remodel).<br />
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Here are a few creative projects recently completed:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzzjEQ2RGCS31Tyn6qMy3BQNdD-u7yB1pjf30zHAOZQVNDMrCXXDKdn-ksZuRYwNnV29uQpWOznYoS7I1o-IPgZt4bYTzvOqY7gXM1fxvjIMt2w22QRrsiK2x52-a_OaF94rYQlmHZEs/s1600/IMG_20130324_182600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzzjEQ2RGCS31Tyn6qMy3BQNdD-u7yB1pjf30zHAOZQVNDMrCXXDKdn-ksZuRYwNnV29uQpWOznYoS7I1o-IPgZt4bYTzvOqY7gXM1fxvjIMt2w22QRrsiK2x52-a_OaF94rYQlmHZEs/s320/IMG_20130324_182600.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found these shutters at a local flea market for $3.55. Loved the size but the artwork was not going to work.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuf1pBYk9sE2GymkWUrvlPMCC518kARkBHwqXrYUIrIwZr6kbNstgal7E3bjPTI6O37OvxSr-VnrpllFGh3u6vvRbgg4r-9cq1lmVUre_Ktc3MK0tmK4FXBSuMuN7HgbvQEDGLq6_EMs/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihuf1pBYk9sE2GymkWUrvlPMCC518kARkBHwqXrYUIrIwZr6kbNstgal7E3bjPTI6O37OvxSr-VnrpllFGh3u6vvRbgg4r-9cq1lmVUre_Ktc3MK0tmK4FXBSuMuN7HgbvQEDGLq6_EMs/s1600/photo+1.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After: We separated the shutters and repainted them a coral color and then distressed them for a more rustic look. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrBvKFWycdKZvssNOfQJTd-8DdxbZvNkNUVhsloPsjN1E72gsXVH2GwAK47HpndEBG_Ihg52zHZ7GQlKM5GSaSpIW1TA6tPyIBjHoUGCpcgZOd51yl2OlFmmOAB_OkAPEE80Tc8OinrE/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrBvKFWycdKZvssNOfQJTd-8DdxbZvNkNUVhsloPsjN1E72gsXVH2GwAK47HpndEBG_Ihg52zHZ7GQlKM5GSaSpIW1TA6tPyIBjHoUGCpcgZOd51yl2OlFmmOAB_OkAPEE80Tc8OinrE/s1600/photo+2.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the other shutter with added mason jars attached by copper pipe straps-used to hold an air plant and my pens and pencils. You can also see a small note card from Ellen at <a href="http://www.fatgirlwearingthin.com/">Fat Girl Wearing Thin</a> who sells her beautiful art work at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/EllenBrennemanStudio">EllenBrennemanStudio</a>.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwBFNss5IBW-pGmJ-HVG9L2VXUrGhS4CMYMaKJpCPc-ZqvZtsFJVCM7s72N2myoSGOKw6W4PQqPuP6UmD2TrChsBeXGtMZraXhiSPz9BIQbQ9KLte_Zjj8QmB7XvM5UkPuM3956dbkXM/s1600/893898_10151511084624144_1768780272_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIwBFNss5IBW-pGmJ-HVG9L2VXUrGhS4CMYMaKJpCPc-ZqvZtsFJVCM7s72N2myoSGOKw6W4PQqPuP6UmD2TrChsBeXGtMZraXhiSPz9BIQbQ9KLte_Zjj8QmB7XvM5UkPuM3956dbkXM/s320/893898_10151511084624144_1768780272_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I modified one of my favorite t-shirts into a little tank I would wear more often (I'm not a fan of crew necks). I love the Eat More Kale guy!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1S1EEo6HzE5wuzdlvv0guAPx_axfCC_Lg5in0ksvptUxcSBeRlmE-CV8IaI9CESugKEBFnXt97aIXk4P-NzFtYkKfYn3ckP4PkXb6yrAEXVqnzFA3bCptRoO8TyNSy5NMshh1y38U1I/s1600/45229_10151512239244144_1398678515_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1S1EEo6HzE5wuzdlvv0guAPx_axfCC_Lg5in0ksvptUxcSBeRlmE-CV8IaI9CESugKEBFnXt97aIXk4P-NzFtYkKfYn3ckP4PkXb6yrAEXVqnzFA3bCptRoO8TyNSy5NMshh1y38U1I/s320/45229_10151512239244144_1398678515_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While this is very basic sewing I was glad to be able to re-purpose some old shirts into reusable shopping bags.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDthwN0zkrjNX5ZImS1_Lc6C9mz_CSUJgfRPRLSyqspVfHqPn_5FgCB_hihSK_W8k2FPMm5uyx4Hnu8BPpjmcD0hjG4Tx8EHNfyU0XQgSYsFB-J4M7Db1NEacVZh92RijFvbABnNP4DQ8/s1600/IMG_20130412_112211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDthwN0zkrjNX5ZImS1_Lc6C9mz_CSUJgfRPRLSyqspVfHqPn_5FgCB_hihSK_W8k2FPMm5uyx4Hnu8BPpjmcD0hjG4Tx8EHNfyU0XQgSYsFB-J4M7Db1NEacVZh92RijFvbABnNP4DQ8/s320/IMG_20130412_112211.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found this chair at the thrift store for $5...it was pretty dirty but otherwise sturdy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYQl9PQV7iulbs_9SiMZL5z13I7djrNTiXFKr04RcU3OJMqMCDeGGOBnPQIFettR7PJqZkmVyJlzXTvtAh-Pg6bFBvzlx3i9HHwrwqaf3KImiTg9_BRK9cP87Mxgbu-qSYKkKPV5j9wg/s1600/IMG_20130412_214345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbYQl9PQV7iulbs_9SiMZL5z13I7djrNTiXFKr04RcU3OJMqMCDeGGOBnPQIFettR7PJqZkmVyJlzXTvtAh-Pg6bFBvzlx3i9HHwrwqaf3KImiTg9_BRK9cP87Mxgbu-qSYKkKPV5j9wg/s320/IMG_20130412_214345.jpg" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's the same chair after painting it cobalt blue and distressing it to fit the 'rustic' ambiance.</td></tr>
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I also made some reusable mesh produce bags thanks to a tutorial from blogger Valerie Brady at <a href="http://www.gerberadesigns.com/triedandtrue/?p=398">Tried & True.</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkawumNdelI1N5KE8hBG2YBF_WmavdrwJ0iKjM-1hWwYCySwXaPvP-pp_u7h94uKpFIs1dMUcq_1kl_PDAANxLkql4fYLCfyLqejJ1XfknQEhTtmSD6tS5Q9Fa2ykwCOXBpAAf-7c4ts4/s1600/733803_10151513616404144_1931311185_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkawumNdelI1N5KE8hBG2YBF_WmavdrwJ0iKjM-1hWwYCySwXaPvP-pp_u7h94uKpFIs1dMUcq_1kl_PDAANxLkql4fYLCfyLqejJ1XfknQEhTtmSD6tS5Q9Fa2ykwCOXBpAAf-7c4ts4/s320/733803_10151513616404144_1931311185_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sewing my new produce bags from our old laundry bag.</td></tr>
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Now, if only I could get myself to lace up those running shoes once again... <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-13866340902366249392013-04-05T19:20:00.000-07:002013-04-05T19:20:31.039-07:00Don't Call It a Comeback...I've had quite a long (unplanned) hiatus from my blogs (I also write at <a href="http://talesfromthemutiny.blogspot.com/">Tales From the Mutiny</a>). I partially blame our travels...we hit the road October 3, 2012 in our 32-foot RV, The Mutiny, which left us without internet much of the time. But part of it has been sheer laziness. I know I'm not the only one who finds that they can fill their days with plenty of <i>busy work</i> to avoid doing other things...like writing. I don't want to call this a comeback because I really didn't leave my blog or abandon my writing...it's always there in my thoughts...every day. I just got really, really shall we say...sidetracked.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDRTW6cYLCC8ZcZljg87sfIW54jdq0zhJgWmMlOXQHehc67zi4bMiyXcw4VmIdPBlIldoyH8ZeAcaH8TBF7glXoMgKhljkUuc4jqx9RsBkzhHdJu_6CfNaU0gIrfRBNl7Rk3Mg82STs_8/s1600/af268ba0cead9930e8052c5c7bc24787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDRTW6cYLCC8ZcZljg87sfIW54jdq0zhJgWmMlOXQHehc67zi4bMiyXcw4VmIdPBlIldoyH8ZeAcaH8TBF7glXoMgKhljkUuc4jqx9RsBkzhHdJu_6CfNaU0gIrfRBNl7Rk3Mg82STs_8/s400/af268ba0cead9930e8052c5c7bc24787.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via Pinterest</td></tr>
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Although writing is one of my passions I still have mini panic attacks when I write, publish posts or submit articles for <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/01/finding-happiness-in-my-own-skin-lynn-bonnelli/">Elephant Journal</a>. I'm always afraid that no one will care, my article will be rejected or that failure in some form or another is just around the corner. I also have a problem with keeping a journal to jot down all of the brilliant ideas and thoughts I have throughout the day...the ones I'm sure would make a fabulous entry. Then, when I sit at the computer my mind seems as blank as the screen. And I want to kill that flashing cursor.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSV0_CzjXhrt2Il-ycny371teuITpGKwxFGgNytj1C_B-Bmi6qeqKgwW2o0BrCBaM2aBc4FFCFzTObNGtItCDCssGb86hu_OIfF0tjjvN_jp_mhZI94QnmZLUPN6BhTpuk8VJYfJwtMD8/s1600/5f50cf5d8151ed7b100e632c26e436b0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSV0_CzjXhrt2Il-ycny371teuITpGKwxFGgNytj1C_B-Bmi6qeqKgwW2o0BrCBaM2aBc4FFCFzTObNGtItCDCssGb86hu_OIfF0tjjvN_jp_mhZI94QnmZLUPN6BhTpuk8VJYfJwtMD8/s400/5f50cf5d8151ed7b100e632c26e436b0.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via Pinterest</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVAslhZ_YIaK6Thu50HjYXlpR_NUs8yExDcfaQ4txKlY5NUClttmLrYuIYwbsO8WthlNPJvAuUwl6JxWQ1HrjtdArU8tilnT_QEMa7Kw59tRBfvhk0yIy3x510i47wuQnbwZKl_0T7So/s1600/425123_10151510412434144_768678401_n(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHVAslhZ_YIaK6Thu50HjYXlpR_NUs8yExDcfaQ4txKlY5NUClttmLrYuIYwbsO8WthlNPJvAuUwl6JxWQ1HrjtdArU8tilnT_QEMa7Kw59tRBfvhk0yIy3x510i47wuQnbwZKl_0T7So/s400/425123_10151510412434144_768678401_n(1).jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my sewing projects, making reusable shopping bags out of old t-shirts.</td></tr>
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So, I have been occupying my time with this busy work...yoga, reading articles and books, organizing the RV, remodeling the RV interior and sewing, which is totally new to me. The yoga part isn't really busy work...it's a life line and it has helped me build some confidence. I did a month long yoga challenge (#yogaeverydamnday) and saw so much improvement that I became addicted. I took some time to work on a few balance poses which really helped me understand the concept of beginner mind. We can't start out as pro's in everything we do...there is always a learning curve.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jQZtsFjJPtxtXxIiRPD48ZDk0u2lUYw2pOYMg6PhxehJA3S1KDxsVaC_kdEajIDC00XMXh26CVqZK_co7-JK-wrQzhsbPvYH_1gWvA42itg0H73OLjLPcfWmq1fP0D7hnIx2Ur6BZfk/s1600/313464_10151470281644144_1705390054_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jQZtsFjJPtxtXxIiRPD48ZDk0u2lUYw2pOYMg6PhxehJA3S1KDxsVaC_kdEajIDC00XMXh26CVqZK_co7-JK-wrQzhsbPvYH_1gWvA42itg0H73OLjLPcfWmq1fP0D7hnIx2Ur6BZfk/s320/313464_10151470281644144_1705390054_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Mobile, Alabama</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrB3lYIXOOWeFcF9dnpCXUEUFFOhKBlqDdIdadxRyV9R7QXQD-le705jJ-s16wwQl-KXUWsriAgLo42VRlmRpa6RtblHR_37NjiVvy4P5UK-kP_i-FFK2F_vLsS_0kXYvfYYvPwW4gAXg/s1600/028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrB3lYIXOOWeFcF9dnpCXUEUFFOhKBlqDdIdadxRyV9R7QXQD-le705jJ-s16wwQl-KXUWsriAgLo42VRlmRpa6RtblHR_37NjiVvy4P5UK-kP_i-FFK2F_vLsS_0kXYvfYYvPwW4gAXg/s320/028.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Sands National Monument</td></tr>
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I'm still trying to figure out this life balance. Sometimes the full-time RVing seems like a full-time job but then I realize how luck I am to be able to do this at my age. It's not fair to complain. And I know that I tend to procrastinate. I can only beat myself up about this so many times...<br />
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I am exploring and working hard at figuring out how to make this all work...the need to write, finding the inspiration and direction, staying creative, keeping positive and being fearless. I am experimenting with new passions and creative endeavors and am thankful for some new friends (and old) who help inspire me. I've also got a new gadget (<a href="https://yourkarma.com/">Karma</a>) which I am hoping will give me more reliable internet once we resume our travels.<br />
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I'm also trying to learn that life isn't always go...go...go. But that sometimes there is nothing wrong with taking a nap, laying in the sun, reading a book or doing a whole lot of nothing.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YsIfXdvzuaBPUempimUvrPyEXpViPzxFifvAYSb5eomOiIwnqMoreFopOs3TH6WyJgb5Jo7NoTinx4YIaaTi-DZl7you2ALYYYHjPD8gnbYTSKPXWRpG-YazWyDNu4s6hr0cU-qFW8w/s1600/8b90ef8b89cc5778e9e9a3c74d73c6bf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YsIfXdvzuaBPUempimUvrPyEXpViPzxFifvAYSb5eomOiIwnqMoreFopOs3TH6WyJgb5Jo7NoTinx4YIaaTi-DZl7you2ALYYYHjPD8gnbYTSKPXWRpG-YazWyDNu4s6hr0cU-qFW8w/s400/8b90ef8b89cc5778e9e9a3c74d73c6bf.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>
By the way, I am also on <a href="http://instagram.com/lynnbonelli#">Instagram</a> at lynnbonelli (isn't everyone??) and would love to follow you back so leave your user name in the comments!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-19068498672284588552013-01-12T17:43:00.000-08:002013-01-12T17:43:07.568-08:00Memories...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N7f-yePWy2wq4ZG5RtgEIKO9RVryI7GcaSBWb2CgZhg5pDtoehj8rwhdz6VjSWfUoN16JZnUmAoS3iFCWKQl7_ejK-bH3yHkvjiGLt4PKfBufVhYeRiENW10COvFnkv3StOmrb5rpmY/s1600/137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N7f-yePWy2wq4ZG5RtgEIKO9RVryI7GcaSBWb2CgZhg5pDtoehj8rwhdz6VjSWfUoN16JZnUmAoS3iFCWKQl7_ejK-bH3yHkvjiGLt4PKfBufVhYeRiENW10COvFnkv3StOmrb5rpmY/s400/137.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We walked out on the pier to the Boat Shack at Nick's Cove at Point Reyes Seashore. Inside the old weather beaten building the potbellied stove was breathing warmth into the room. An old upright piano, a few keys visibly stuck, sat lonely and dusty along one wall. Suspended from the ceiling is a row boat missing the lap of water across it's bow. A hint of sunshine was peeking through the overcast sky~the last crumbs of summer along the California Coast.<br />
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We sat in the Adirondack chairs outside, allowing our lunches to digest, my husband, Clark, and his sister reminiscing about the happenings of 30 or more years ago. Where does all of that time go? Listening to them chat got me thinking about my own childhood memories...some so distant they seem like those wispy clouds that break apart right before your eyes or like a dream that fades away faster than you can tell someone the story.<br />
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<br />
Other memories bring back a flood of images and even smells. As we travel around the country I, of course, want to take Clark to that little town in Pennsylvania where my extended family still lives and where my most vivid childhood memories were born. But what I really want is for him to be able to experience it in the same way I did as a kid...as if we were both 12 years old.<br />
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<br />
It would be during a summer break visiting Grammy Weber's house. We'd wake every morning and eat Apple Jacks and then go check for eggs in the chicken coop. This would be followed by a hike to the Fishing Hole along the creek to build up our appetites because Gram would, most certainly, be making homemade Alphabet Soup or Lentils for lunch. And, of course, there would her famous Rice Pudding.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlZ1rcHS5jQzRUE40E736bN0WjT0m0b1znV-r3EN2nalGDQWMeeRIfRPJ_mmv-DRIoOz_yt3olsg456UgnZTS7GXxNe-3A3Knn6VtOaoh-wGBFYAKvteQ3npLeFZ_W1-EI-aZOj5cJqM/s1600/scan0077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlZ1rcHS5jQzRUE40E736bN0WjT0m0b1znV-r3EN2nalGDQWMeeRIfRPJ_mmv-DRIoOz_yt3olsg456UgnZTS7GXxNe-3A3Knn6VtOaoh-wGBFYAKvteQ3npLeFZ_W1-EI-aZOj5cJqM/s400/scan0077.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Everyone would be 30 years younger...Grammy and my dad would be alive as would my cousins Jenny and Rosemary. We would have the innocence and awe of children all over again. But I know that it won't be the same. <br />
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<br />
The creek will seem closer and the farm smaller (and not even a farm anymore) and everyone will be older. Hell, I'm now older than most of them were the last time I saw them!<br />
<br />
But we will still go and visit and make new memories. I'll try to describe everything as I remembered when I was 12...the place where the tiny wild strawberries grew that Grammy made into jam, the spot dad and I would "camp" along McMichael's Creek that once felt so far from the house that I would be too scared to walk there alone and then I'll show Clark how my sister and I would use one of the handmade afghans as a 'tent' to warm ourselves up over the vents of the furnace (the metal grates would get so hot it would melt waffle marks into the bottoms of our slippers).<br />
<br />
I'll show Clark the bedroom I stayed in for 9 months while my Gram and Aunt Beatrice nursed me back to health both physically and emotionally when I left home after "recovering" from anorexia. And then I'll show him where I worked as a trail ride guide until I moved to California to train horses and then back to Alaska for college.<br />
<br />
There are a lot of good memories there...and a lot of good people. I'm afraid I've let time and distance separate me from my family but I also know we will be able to pick up where we left off. It won't be the same I know, but it will still be good.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-89383154326392946362012-12-22T22:49:00.000-08:002012-12-22T22:49:37.316-08:0016GB with the Happiness Display
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I walked around the store checking out the new Kindles
and Nooks, comparing features and screens along with pricing, I felt my heart
rate starting to increase. I was dazzled and confused. As I walked
briskly between the two large displays, I caught a glimpse at a third display holding yet
another Kindle. It was shining under a spot light and boasting a most
impressive price tag, surely it must have been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i> holy grail of e-readers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ogled it, flipped through the ‘pages’ and
pictured just how much <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">better</i> my life
would be if I owned it. I would be happier, certainly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have a laptop (two actually but let’s just say one is my
husband’s), a basic Kindle and a smart phone. My husband has an iPhone and
iPad. We are always within reach of one or all of these things. My laptop has a
permanent place on our dinette. Yet I found myself being pulled by the belief
that having more or newer would equal better and happier.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_MA4r2fRNOBsVvBcIF_jOjCAnmhyFIqHnhLt9gMMYZ7st8DY0-Agr4oQM3hb524akZINjBvE2IHo_v7N_6EIyTa98HKZwl1c7-7wAMm1wv5cnvJXVTXsX-gm6hoXqvwGqCQNIpSXTng/s1600/72620612711723998_OcJlDp7r_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_MA4r2fRNOBsVvBcIF_jOjCAnmhyFIqHnhLt9gMMYZ7st8DY0-Agr4oQM3hb524akZINjBvE2IHo_v7N_6EIyTa98HKZwl1c7-7wAMm1wv5cnvJXVTXsX-gm6hoXqvwGqCQNIpSXTng/s320/72620612711723998_OcJlDp7r_b.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">via Pinterest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sometimes get suckered into it all…the glossy ads and ‘best of’
suggestions sent to my inbox urging me to try the latest and greatest e-reader,
vodka, cell phone, coffee, jeans, shampoo, mascara…ads designed to convince me that
I am <strong>unhappy</strong> with what I already have but I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just
don’t know it yet</i>. How could I be so delusional thinking my old mascara is
good enough?</span></div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But then, I head to the store to buy my little package of happiness
only to be confronted by 27 different mascaras. Do I want fuller lashes or
longer lashes? Brown, brown-black, black, blackest-black…I’m overwhelmed and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I no longer know what I want or even what I like</i>…it’s
paralyzing. I finally fold, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>grab my
precious, life fulfilling wand of magic, pay and as I head home the doubt
creeps in…I probably should have gotten the waterproof one. <span style="font-size: large;">I can’t be happy
now</span>.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Often, having too many choices leaves us wondering what we
might be missing having not chosen the other. We can’t stay present long enough
to enjoy what we have because we are wondering if the sandwich at that other restaurant
would have tasted better than the one we got.
We forget to be happy with what we have and that what we have is <em>wonderful</em> (be
it our sandwich or spouse).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We end up cluttering our lives and minds leaving not a lot
of room for contentment for that which we already possess (or even the freedom we have by <em><strong>not</strong></em> possessing so many things). It’s a difficult cycle
to slow down, let alone stop. Seeking happiness isn’t the problem, thinking we
can buy it or upgrade to it is. In case you're wondering, I didn't buy the Kindle and I'm pretty dang happy about that.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWSJ0ny0_RycYYQWHMpgyVXn-BHWziJFonOioBaJXTYogkwrt-kpvU9Bv74rG7LKoWmyPzCCa_-47PupSdtfHqAc8bTBVryBZMKvugWJLNthKRc3uSxSnG71WsN0AU-FpGSlbXD8fdKI/s1600/77476056060000818_n5T1r4v9_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWSJ0ny0_RycYYQWHMpgyVXn-BHWziJFonOioBaJXTYogkwrt-kpvU9Bv74rG7LKoWmyPzCCa_-47PupSdtfHqAc8bTBVryBZMKvugWJLNthKRc3uSxSnG71WsN0AU-FpGSlbXD8fdKI/s200/77476056060000818_n5T1r4v9_b.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-57035207946102200832012-12-13T10:35:00.000-08:002012-12-13T10:35:52.502-08:00What Doesn't {but almost} Kill Us...
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My <a href="http://learningcurvesblog.blogspot.com/2012/12/my-anorexia-had-nothing-to-do-with.html">last blog post</a> I wrote about my own experience with anorexia. I’ve often referred to this
time as surreal, like a story I read or a movie I watched…completely detached,
as if <em>I</em> was not the protagonist. I guess it’s sort of a defense mechanism on
two fronts. One being the embarrassment of having allowed myself to almost die
right in front of my parent’s eyes, with no ‘good reason’…a typical white girl
from a typical middle-class family, starving herself to death for what?? Even I
didn’t know.</span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtENc0D1o8kw9QeXs2NyO6ZjDda4P2hqsajE56pFUDWORMLT8de9b_O5AZqVhxyicKxN7r6-G_B6SR16Z-ya_THCTvzvZ7kvR1WMqbhVf1An6b_qNHmf1W51An9W9G14AMfm8yWtIxAM/s1600/IMG_NEW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtENc0D1o8kw9QeXs2NyO6ZjDda4P2hqsajE56pFUDWORMLT8de9b_O5AZqVhxyicKxN7r6-G_B6SR16Z-ya_THCTvzvZ7kvR1WMqbhVf1An6b_qNHmf1W51An9W9G14AMfm8yWtIxAM/s320/IMG_NEW.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first full day in Charter North Inpatient Hospital (1987).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The second
being my embarrassment over the fact that if you met me you would see there is
no physical evidence of this illness. To hear me tell this story in the body I
have <em>now</em> doesn’t compute…at least not in my head. It’s easy to disassociate
myself because the dots just don’t connect. How could someone who ‘dieted’ from
125 pounds to less than 80 pounds in a matter of a few months now struggle to
lose (and keep off) even 5 pounds?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I have
managed to hoard away are snippets of distorted eating and thinking…sneaking
food, guarding my plate, trying to stretch calories, abhorring any discussion
of my food while I’m eating, and a tendency to eat in a structured way
(vegetarian, vegan, raw). Intellectually, I know that I still obsess about
food, exercise and my weight. I often wonder if fluctuating between the
extremes is really all that much better-as if eating half a bag of Doritos is
really a healthy way of thumbing my nose at anorexia or dieting in general
(only to later “pay for it” by a day of green smoothies, shakes or all veggies
and no carbs).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For years
now I’ve claimed to be completely recovered from anorexia, and looking at the
scale that would be more than true. But, since part of this disorder is about
everything <em>except</em> the weight I can see that I am not truly recovered…not
completely. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like a lot
of people I know who battle with eating disorders ranging from bulimia to binge
eating, healing the exterior doesn’t always mean the inside is fixed as well. In
turning to my yoga mat and meditation I find the bandage being ripped off {again}
and the pain being exposed. It hurts, it’s raw…and yes, it might seem easier on
the surface to let it hide in the dark corners of mind. But I’m ready to heal…face
the intermittent sadness and self-doubt (or hate or loathing) that is truly at
the root of all of this.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m ready to
own the illness that that almost killed me rather than pretend it happened to
someone else. Twenty-five years of battling my mind and body is long enough. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-10303285490739961962012-12-04T09:00:00.000-08:002012-12-04T09:00:12.859-08:00My Anorexia Had Nothing to do with Photoshop<div>
To be honest, I was never the type of girl to read Cosmo or worry about fashion. I was too busy reading every thing ever written by J.D. Salinger and Stephen King, riding horses and dreaming of competing at the Olympics. Most of my adolescences was spent as a working student at riding stables. My attire consisted of barn clothes for the most part. I cut my hair short since it spent countless hours under a riding helmet and it seemed rather pointless to fight a losing battle against hat-head. I was half tom-boy and half nerd, which was pretty suitable for an introvert like myself. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SbK5uQb8YLiABzP8vnfE-uNVLXy951DplWpLadmvJWMJ2ZL0mIZ-Drv4qPzMwQPYi-9Wp1Bccsityvreg3kood1NgrmqARF2L47tgaDrv8Y_TC5EAqIc7KdYqVfsRJGYcKnQAvDLMuM/s1600/elwood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8SbK5uQb8YLiABzP8vnfE-uNVLXy951DplWpLadmvJWMJ2ZL0mIZ-Drv4qPzMwQPYi-9Wp1Bccsityvreg3kood1NgrmqARF2L47tgaDrv8Y_TC5EAqIc7KdYqVfsRJGYcKnQAvDLMuM/s400/elwood.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My horse, Elwood, and me in Redlands, CA. We won High Point that day in Dressage. This was a few months before I had to sell him and move to Alaska when I was 16 years old.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
My older sister and I weren't particularly close at the time so I didn't really have anyone to show me the ropes regarding make up and hair or putting together cute outfits. I didn't have a boyfriend in school and therefore didn't attend any dances or social gatherings (did I mention I was a nerd...and an introvert). I also didn't have any weight issues, ate what I felt like eating and didn't do any extra exercises outside of the mandatory P.E. classes and working at the barn. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby3addjxZMay5_uoKbYfeewwr7Mck5O7niqSwwvvQZH2jFYJLrLdE9WYUIFpsgqqVieeuhv7xIKsyQ3cYhRohoMhRjxnRWTE7bCeJTbnSnqhMQ_czsNvdbbyV4OjbU1UhiuQbnnoY9UI/s1600/an.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby3addjxZMay5_uoKbYfeewwr7Mck5O7niqSwwvvQZH2jFYJLrLdE9WYUIFpsgqqVieeuhv7xIKsyQ3cYhRohoMhRjxnRWTE7bCeJTbnSnqhMQ_czsNvdbbyV4OjbU1UhiuQbnnoY9UI/s400/an.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at 17 getting ready for Prom. This was taken <em>after</em> being treated for anorexia. I obviously had reverted to my old non-eating habits.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
My experience with anorexia falls outside of what most of <a href="http://ur.umich.edu/9798/Oct22_97/media.htm">society thinks triggers such behavior and outside of what the anti-media community believes</a> contributes to this illness (even though I watched plenty of T.V., looked through my mom's women's magazines and watched movies). For me, anorexia was about control and later turned to self-punishment and then habit. I didn't want to be a model, I didn't feel the pressure to look a different way, and I honestly did not start off with a distorted body image...I was cognizant that I was "normal", maybe even fit. If anything anorexia was a way for me to rebel and be a non-conformist due to some major changes in my life (we moved from California to Alaska the summer before my senior year of high school). <strong>I think it's a dangerous assumption, especially for those directly affected by eating disorders, <a href="http://www.something-fishy.org/cultural/themedia.php">to view this as strictly a weight issue</a></strong>.Trying to convince the individual (or the world) that photoshopped pictures and under weight models are <em>the </em>root of this disease <em>may</em> totally miss the mark in an attempt to place the blame on 'some one else'.**</div>
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<em></em> </div>
<div>
<em>Tell me I should eat and I'll tell you I'm full. Tell me I'm too thin and I'll drop a few more pounds, not because I feel fat...but because I <strong>can</strong>, regardless of what you think</em>. That was my mentality. When I was finally hospitalized (I was 16 years old, 5'4" and 84 pounds) and forced to take in calories, I found something else to control...my water intake. Water has no calories and obviously would have no impact on my weight but I refused to drink it anyway...and often dumped it into the pillow I sat on to protect my bony body from bruising.</div>
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</div>
<div>
Admittedly, after several months of starving myself, I was terrified of gaining the weight back...terrified that I wouldn't be able to <em>stop</em> the weight gain. I clung to my old habits convinced it would provide a cushion for the inevitable weight gain that comes with age. But this was not the root cause of my illness. So, when it came to trying to win this battle and save my life, I was lost and confused. Most of the doctors I spoke with had little to no experience with anorexia and dealt more with drug abuse, teen alcoholism and the occasional schizophrenic. Assuming that I was only concerned with being thinner was the wrong approach. And while I did get a rush from watching the numbers on scale drop it was only because it meant I was the <em>winner</em>, the one in control.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
What caused me to get help? I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror...naked...from behind. It was the first time I just saw only an image and not <em>me</em>. What I saw reminded me of the pictures of concentration camp victims...hollowed out buttocks and a spine that was so bony it appeared to be outside of my skin. I was exhausted, scared and although I had often desired to just fall asleep and never wake up, I knew I didn't want to die after all. I asked to go into inpatient care some 350 miles away from my parents and school.<br />
<br />
It was not an easy task to recover and it was necessary for me to relearn how to eat. I gained a lot of weight, not just because of my metabolism, but because I forgot how to eat and now knew what it was to 'diet'. Strangely enough, having never had a weight issue before, I soon succumbed to the classic yo-yo dieting, the latest and greatest dieting trends and a 20 year battle of dieting because I had starved myself and <em>forgotten how to eat</em>. </div>
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</div>
<div>
By <em>taking</em> control I really <em>lost </em>control. My body recovered but my mind still hasn't (at least not fully). I find I am more affected by the media <em>now</em> then I ever was when I became anorexic. Affected by the 'new science' behind weight-loss, green smoothies, paleo, the raw food movement, skinny rules, the thousands of diet books, inspirational Facebook posts and Pinterest images depicting the "perfect" body. </div>
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I became consumed <em>by</em> food rather than consuming food. It became so much more than fuel for my body...it's the enemy <em>and</em> the comforter, the problem <em>and</em> the solution, the life giver <em>and</em> the life taker and (for many of us) it becomes our all-consuming identity. But in all reality...<em>it's just food</em>...calories that keep the living alive and healthy. <span style="font-size: large;">Food is not meant to be a punishment or reward.</span> It's not something we 'deserve' because we worked out hard or missed a meal the day before. It's sustenance...just like breathing in oxygen (ya know, we don't say we deserve a big ol' healthy inhalation because we've been 'good'). It's a function of nature.</div>
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<div>
I have an idea that a lot of us are more alike then maybe we imagined...the chronic dieters, the anorexic and the weight-loss maintainer. Our next meal (or lack there of) is always on our mind, calorie content flashes through our mind when we look at the bakery display and in the back of our minds (maybe just for a fleeting moment) we realize that food is dictating our lives instead of fueling our next adventure. <br />
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<div>
We eat or don't eat for <strong>control</strong>, we eat or don't eat to <strong>hide our emotions</strong> and eventually we eat or don't eat because <strong><em>we have forgotten how to feed ourselves</em></strong>. Yet we often prefer to remain in our own little group, unaware of how similar we are...that the overweight person who we view has no self-control is the farthest thing from <em>us, </em>the restrictors...the ones who can turn away even a leaf of lettuce for fear of weight gain. Conversely, the binger or maintainer can hardly fathom that someone who once weighed 84 pounds as an adult can contribute anything to a conversation regarding dieting or the hardships one encounters in maintaining a healthy weight. I think we could learn a lot from each other.</div>
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</div>
<div>
The body is miraculous. If left to it's own devises it figures out how to survive and maintain balance. But <em>we </em>interfere and throw a wrench in the gears. We break this symbiosis and then sometimes spend a lifetime trying to figure out how to fix it again. Just like a drug addict or tweaker...we take it apart, try to put it back together and, when that doesn't work, we go look for the next fix. Maybe one day I will actually learn to get out of my own way rather than buying yet another diet book.<br />
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<br />
<br />
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<div>
<em>**This is my own opinion based solely on my personal experience with anorexia 20 years ago. There is plenty of research out there to support or deny specific root causes to this illness. What I believe is that the mental illness comes before the pounds come off. Otherwise, everyone who reads Cosmo or looks through a Victoria's Secret catalogue or watches the 100's of movies or TV shows with thin actors and actresses would be anorexic too.</em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-75579723574364988312012-11-29T11:51:00.000-08:002012-11-29T11:51:08.677-08:00Lies My Red Cup Told Me...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uvJqjGn-jvm-hgeT4p-hNj_XwUWhUFA-OSw-khZzcFvO1t5MGIFMLZ-cdLFblnT0_DmZacrLQ9fqXq2VsMMSQhJhtMZ7ChICKU-yvxFI5cYXC3OwB-EoqNuCS5YBVEWFVFUudpWXRgw/s1600/3-Japan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uvJqjGn-jvm-hgeT4p-hNj_XwUWhUFA-OSw-khZzcFvO1t5MGIFMLZ-cdLFblnT0_DmZacrLQ9fqXq2VsMMSQhJhtMZ7ChICKU-yvxFI5cYXC3OwB-EoqNuCS5YBVEWFVFUudpWXRgw/s400/3-Japan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm in green...obviously thrilled to have my picture taken.<br />
Japan circa 1972</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Living on the road has certainly brought some much needed perspective to my life. I grew up in what I felt was a middle class home...my dad was in the Air Force and my mom often worked as a florist where ever we happened to be stationed at the time. At some point during my childhood my dad went to Officer Training School and was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant which seemed to bring in a little extra money (we got a second car shortly after). But there were always money struggles...and arguments between my parents and fights that ended up with credit cards being cut into tiny pieces. Of course, I also remember standing next to my mom a few days later at the register at JC Penney while she rattled off the credit card number {from memory} to the sales clerk.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxeD2TdsD1Gld0nGVEGcMDQkViBDsT6d0TFN95Jig1w33nEoJJppJqQO3Sc_19WDjjsBhPzSaqW8Tjly21R3BmF2N8Xg2vnl3ZwCXCsnqM_cEM7AY_gJrxHtfsn1P2bYUXhgSNsDprCE/s1600/Credit-Card-Freedom-8001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxeD2TdsD1Gld0nGVEGcMDQkViBDsT6d0TFN95Jig1w33nEoJJppJqQO3Sc_19WDjjsBhPzSaqW8Tjly21R3BmF2N8Xg2vnl3ZwCXCsnqM_cEM7AY_gJrxHtfsn1P2bYUXhgSNsDprCE/s400/Credit-Card-Freedom-8001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://strongtowerconsulting.com/">source</a></td></tr>
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We didn't have fancy things...not like my friend Heidi whose mom didn't have to work. They had a <em>formal</em> living room and granola cereal in those skinny little boxes (aka expensive). Obviously I loved to go to Heidi's to spend the night so I could get a taste of the good life. In retrospect I don't think they were much better off than we were...they just had different priorities.<br />
<br />
And that's what I'm finding out again...living in this RV on a retirees income, it's about priorities. I've always worked, often times being the bread-winner or having no other income to supplement my own. So this is a new (and uncomfortable) situation for me. I feel guilty about the expensive of some of my necessities <em>{good God, my contact lens solution is how much?!} </em>even though the hubs has no issue with it. <br />
<br />
We spent several weeks living/camping in places that were fairly remote with only a small local general store or gas station in which to stock the fridge. I've had to suffer through <strong>instant coffee (</strong>and <a href="http://talesfromthemutiny.blogspot.com/2012/10/making-coffee-in-yosemite.html">struggled with my french press</a> for a week) since these stores tend to not carry K-cups which was, quite possibly, worse than being without Internet and cell phone service for 2 weeks straight! Now, when we are back in 'civilization' we hardly have any restraint when it comes to stocking up in the <em>good</em> stuff {K-cups, goat cheese rolled in exotic spices we've never heard of, handmade crackers, fancy fruits I've never eaten and probably won't like, etc.}.<br />
<br />
And Starbucks. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghf7vyjITD5-zhA6miuhbZLFwwsxIfyzbgf2bSBxvwCGVdoQ6kjxMwwlBK8ZuVDiDLQGzDGQgbuLwpT-Pk-PSvYr8Rnq9UThFhOFKN-IPzVw7ZsngUIkYK5tguZuNLSItP90ywr_a0g5s/s1600/redcup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghf7vyjITD5-zhA6miuhbZLFwwsxIfyzbgf2bSBxvwCGVdoQ6kjxMwwlBK8ZuVDiDLQGzDGQgbuLwpT-Pk-PSvYr8Rnq9UThFhOFKN-IPzVw7ZsngUIkYK5tguZuNLSItP90ywr_a0g5s/s320/redcup.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Holy Grail!</td></tr>
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I got a Starbucks Gingerbread Soy Latte yesterday because I <em>had</em> to have it...and I <em>deserved</em> it...and it's delicousness is only available for a <span style="font-size: large;">limited time only</span>! It's in a <span style="color: #cc0000;">red cup</span> for criminy sake and I haven't had a Starbucks in <em>weeks</em> (come on, some people get one every day...or twice a day...don't judge). That first sip was like heaven...the 7th sip was okay...and by the time we got done grocery shopping my lukewarm nectar from the gods <insert here="here" sarcasm="sarcasm"> was just something else I had to carry (I <em>couldn't</em> throw it away after the big production I made about getting to have a Starbucks, finally).</insert><br />
<br />
I did eventually throw it away later that day, dumping the remaining 3/4 of it down the drain and tossing that damned <span style="color: #cc0000;">red cup</span> into the trash. Such a waste...a waste of money, time, non-recyclables. But still, a lesson learned. <em>I don't need Starbucks</em>. And I don't need handmade fancy crackers. It's all really a mind and marketing game. Going without for so long we feel like we deserve that stuff. But so far, none of it has really done anything for us that has been so spectacular that we could never live without it again. Of all of the beauty and peace and comfort and happiness that life can bring, especially when out in nature (at least for me), paying for over-priced coffee has proven to be something I can live without {I think}.<br />
<br />
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to enjoy this day...sans Starbucks. Wish me luck!<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-41865127226951040042012-11-12T16:59:00.000-08:002012-11-12T16:59:03.746-08:00Trying to find balance...Some how I feel like I am more busy now than when I was working. Well, maybe not <i>exactly</i> but I am finding out how much work it is to be a full-time traveler (while taking care of an RV, husband, dog and 2 cats~there's a lot of mapping and cleaning and research involved!). Not that I'm complaining...but I suppose I am giving myself an excuse as to my lack of writing...and working out.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MLe8s95L4CCZtrt8PvI9Y6vi-_tTBycGNTljB9lqCY1HAJlUWCxSQCEq1YhCu59GRks9AxF55Vp8Yr755SB0ZJwtEHvLWdNmQyf-fHjLlqU7FG5bj2WlJ78I2ujeqlfOJccdcoqzhU4/s1600/117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-MLe8s95L4CCZtrt8PvI9Y6vi-_tTBycGNTljB9lqCY1HAJlUWCxSQCEq1YhCu59GRks9AxF55Vp8Yr755SB0ZJwtEHvLWdNmQyf-fHjLlqU7FG5bj2WlJ78I2ujeqlfOJccdcoqzhU4/s320/117.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cairn at Golden Canyon Death Valley National Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I sure thought it would be easy to start running again...you know, with being in all of these beautiful National Parks and County campgrounds. But it's not. There are a lot of unknowns out there. We are often in places for just a night or two and not all of them appear 'safe' as far as getting out there alone to run a few miles. I've also 'allowed' myself the following excuses:<br />
<ul>
<li>It's too windy. (Las Vegas and Bullhead City)</li>
<li>It's too hilly. (Sequoia, California Hot Springs, Panamint Springs)</li>
<li>I don't know the area.</li>
<li>I have to do laundry. (this is a half a day task in the RV)</li>
<li>It's too hot. (Death Valley)</li>
<li>It's too cold. (the desert)</li>
<li>I'll look stupid in front of the other RV park guests. (yes, I used that one once and ended up walking about 3 miles instead of running)</li>
</ul>
And while sometimes there are legitimate reasons to skip a run (after all, you have to feel safe and not get lost and running in 45 mph winds with gusts up to 65 mph isn't my idea of a fun run) I've certainly had many opportunities to just get out there and just run. Instead I opted for some hiking and biking, which wasn't all that easy. One of our hikes was over 7 miles and uphill for half of it and another was 3 miles but had a 1000 foot elevation gain within 1.5 miles.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJdOpMjSAEtUJh_9gCSSLN2MX8pH21OcBWs_mYFgSNSniZy913qZfwtxNnFGdttR-fO4PhaPlBoIyZN8IavoLZ-A67WwqeEFu8yaHa7NF1hh5Q7AuhoC3JXULogPwlRx2gPtyMEn7jvw/s1600/hikinhbiking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJdOpMjSAEtUJh_9gCSSLN2MX8pH21OcBWs_mYFgSNSniZy913qZfwtxNnFGdttR-fO4PhaPlBoIyZN8IavoLZ-A67WwqeEFu8yaHa7NF1hh5Q7AuhoC3JXULogPwlRx2gPtyMEn7jvw/s400/hikinhbiking.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Yosemite and Death Valley National Parks.</td></tr>
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Still, I am starting to get the ache to run...especially when I read some of the blogs I follow, or tweets from runner friends. At this point (2 months since my last run, which was a trail half marathon) I am sure it will feel like starting over...low mileage and struggling with breathing. But I also remember the feeling of accomplishment and the freedom I would feel of just being outside running.<br />
<br />
Admittedly, there is still that part of me that feels almost guilted into working out, and perhaps that's why I am resisting. I don't want my body image to dictate whether or not I work out or run. There's a fine line between loving yourself as you are and letting it all go to pot. So I am trying to let the desire return on it's own in some respect. I don't want to become that obsessive compulsive exerciser again...working out because I am <i>less than</i> if I don't.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuauKny2sdOsOy2swyuhbV8Z23jvm3bLTnGaoA8EgJki-JaxnBwxLQr2yarCVTDiy5UKk7-oaDwMY-DFRLA8dB3pChZb_9ZnyWX78wxxUDkIhR6S5lrJutWmMY5eh5uyBMNarE_X3HTOw/s1600/fitspiration-header.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuauKny2sdOsOy2swyuhbV8Z23jvm3bLTnGaoA8EgJki-JaxnBwxLQr2yarCVTDiy5UKk7-oaDwMY-DFRLA8dB3pChZb_9ZnyWX78wxxUDkIhR6S5lrJutWmMY5eh5uyBMNarE_X3HTOw/s400/fitspiration-header.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://whole9life.com/2012/06/be-good-to-yourself-inside-and-out/">Source</a></td></tr>
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In the meantime, I'll continue with the hiking and biking with some kettle bell workouts and yoga mixed in for good measure. As far as writing, well I <i>have</i> filled up half a composition book over the course of 30 days since we are so often without Internet that it's the only way to keep up with my thoughts. Hopefully, as we travel to more <i>civilized</i> areas I can turn some of those words into future blog posts. I think there's some good stuff in there!<br />
<br />
<i>As I was writing this I came across a couple of interesting articles I felt described what I meant in regard to taking my exercise too far. Here are the links, I highly recommend them!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>http://whole9life.com/2012/06/be-good-to-yourself-inside-and-out/</i><br />
<i>http://whole9life.com/2012/10/lies-we-tell-ourselves/</i><br />
<i>http://www.elephantjournal.com/2012/10/strong-is-the-new-skinny-my-ass-sandi-burden/</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-31915430920167670322012-10-22T19:44:00.000-07:002012-10-22T19:44:33.489-07:00Nothing the See Here...Move Along {via the Past}...Out in the middle of nowhere {okay, it was Coulterville, California~population 201} somewhere during the first few weeks of our grand RV escape, longing for a TV to watch Giants Baseball or even a little NFL, desperate for free wi-fi {who am I kidding, we would have <em>PAID</em> for it} we headed to the nearest town and parked next to <em>this</em> truck.<br />
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There were names of soldiers, some POW but mostly KIA, covering nearly every inch of this truck. Very somber to say the least. However, what I saw, right outside of our Jeep's passenger window, where I sat when we pulled next to this truck, literally took my breath away.</div>
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PFC. Rachel Bosveld was my sister-in-law (my sister is married to her brother) and I was shocked to not only find her name on this truck, thousands of miles from her home state of Wisconsin, but that her name was one of the first I saw. Tears instantly filled my eyes. <a href="http://www.fallenheroesmemorial.com/oif/profiles/bosveldrachelk.html">Rachel was killed</a> during a mortar attack on the Abu Ghraib Police Station in Iraq. She was just 19 years old. She and I did the music for our siblings' wedding in Alaska just 2 years earlier.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel</td></tr>
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It was such a surreal moment, seeing her name on that truck, one that still twists my gut and dampens my eyes. It makes me wonder what it's all about...this life. Sometimes we think we have so much time that we put things off or take them for granted...always promising (if even just to ourselves) that we will get around to doing {fill in the blank} another day. But we are not promised another day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPcZJpph6P99Mj2A1dSBqVBK5a76TmkaT7nU_lMpnfxsxUxXhyphenhyphenIxrV-Uz9EsRB0MA4RJKzpd0PoG4ZFeB1Gbb7QT5XBf-R8CI5jkSRbMEyFL1TEEFd8VQ1PzDZ2cMQOR8d1eS_hdVi2Q/s1600/067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPcZJpph6P99Mj2A1dSBqVBK5a76TmkaT7nU_lMpnfxsxUxXhyphenhyphenIxrV-Uz9EsRB0MA4RJKzpd0PoG4ZFeB1Gbb7QT5XBf-R8CI5jkSRbMEyFL1TEEFd8VQ1PzDZ2cMQOR8d1eS_hdVi2Q/s640/067.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emerald Pool above Vernal Falls rests on a solid sheet of polished granite.</td></tr>
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Hiking through Yosemite this past week, feeling overwhelmed by the smallness of our existence while walking across a gigantic slab of granite polished by a glacier some 100 million years ago, I had moments of clarity...that in the grand scheme of things probably 90% of what occupies my mind {worry, fear, longing, blame, past hurts, resentment, regrets, etc.) add no benefit to my life. Not only that, but these thoughts are robbing me of my present life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmysiZqG5zq9mpzTxdnqiiULtt-_xDKJL0MWBsKkGpCUiS7Mv69CpAjHqj4gI5CZv8lv_2x1fHECrpATq6-dMKW3wUNKBcWGREpucBa31vyIj4zXStrxUjvMHyQ2POY47oh5bJE_SJQ_s/s1600/058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmysiZqG5zq9mpzTxdnqiiULtt-_xDKJL0MWBsKkGpCUiS7Mv69CpAjHqj4gI5CZv8lv_2x1fHECrpATq6-dMKW3wUNKBcWGREpucBa31vyIj4zXStrxUjvMHyQ2POY47oh5bJE_SJQ_s/s640/058.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I lost count of the number of stairs we climbed up to the top of the falls...but they almost broke us, however our spirit (and ego) pushed us forward.</td></tr>
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Our second day in Yosemite, Clark and I climbed to the top of Vernal Falls via the Mist Trail. It's about 1.5 miles one way but has a 1000 foot gain as well. I had misread the guide and was under the impression this was marked an "easy" hike. It was far from easy and at one point we contemplated quitting and turning back. However, once we completed the climb and the equally, if not more, gruelling decent the pain and suffering seemed to evaporate as we celebrated our accomplishment.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-itx5YtoOm6aMG8D5uVdLcZIQGUTmV-UCqFznFmEqiAtTEtJsxVoN6lWD4Umw6yMYuux06sl8Spg7Xum4WhooZ6hMdvW0_ei8ayAVCSulq6Qca0sxgLL72v_Gdde5uC-nFv6YLAqjTM0/s1600/084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-itx5YtoOm6aMG8D5uVdLcZIQGUTmV-UCqFznFmEqiAtTEtJsxVoN6lWD4Umw6yMYuux06sl8Spg7Xum4WhooZ6hMdvW0_ei8ayAVCSulq6Qca0sxgLL72v_Gdde5uC-nFv6YLAqjTM0/s400/084.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little toast to surviving the hike at Camp Curry.</td></tr>
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But that's the key, in a sense...to release the pain so we can relish in our ability at having overcome the obstacle. Whether that pain is from something our parents did (or didn't do), something hurtful some guy said to us years ago, some misunderstanding we had with a friend or co-worker that got so blown out of proportion that our Ego won't 'let' us forgive or forget, a test we failed (or class for that matter), a relationship that didn't work (perhaps from our own indiscretions)...whatever the obstacle or challenge that we have had to deal with and lived through demands our celebration.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcWN7yiHDhw03uk2SH2lJXaw5JbAK1Vt5LWEV1gWcwkSAUE3AZ_2ILVxMvtBK14dzvVgj66Jks4BJHZDN7mWOn-VYIyg971VSdC2OLsqL_isvhd2i5QQB8lO7Xb9Uw_i-afDMPuakj0E/s1600/the+past.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwcWN7yiHDhw03uk2SH2lJXaw5JbAK1Vt5LWEV1gWcwkSAUE3AZ_2ILVxMvtBK14dzvVgj66Jks4BJHZDN7mWOn-VYIyg971VSdC2OLsqL_isvhd2i5QQB8lO7Xb9Uw_i-afDMPuakj0E/s400/the+past.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">zensationalliving.com</td></tr>
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At some point, after the pity party (which is hopefully short lived) and mourning, we need to let go so we can continue to <em>live in the moment</em>. The past has nothing to offer except the lessons we've already learned...and we need to rehash those about as much as we need to keep tracing our letters in cursive and practising our multiplication tables over and over {ahem, in other words it's time to move on}.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpQop6NyqmqRin18ESH_10hnlWVAZyvB5W0bRO7NaQ8hY6-tfyXuuIiUMAtFz-qYWXzFCAVvtAhRNjCqUEqScQtuUkGhh4du6O3na2ozetTUCQfAjryDUEVWXrf2ecpyS02VSERmqguE/s1600/22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpQop6NyqmqRin18ESH_10hnlWVAZyvB5W0bRO7NaQ8hY6-tfyXuuIiUMAtFz-qYWXzFCAVvtAhRNjCqUEqScQtuUkGhh4du6O3na2ozetTUCQfAjryDUEVWXrf2ecpyS02VSERmqguE/s400/22.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://morethansayings.blogspot.com/2012/02/sadness-from-past.html">source</a></td></tr>
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Rachel was 19 when she died thousands of miles from home...almost 9 years ago to the day. As I sit here at my comfortable desk, sipping a lovely Petite Syrah, watching the San Francisco Giant clench their spot in the World Series I wonder what her life was like, and what would/could have been. I wonder if she had the chance to love someone with all of her heart, if she stopped and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face or laughed when she got caught in a sudden downpour. I hope so...I hope she enjoyed every moment she was given, even the hard ones...and I hope you do too.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-50897146647905945222012-10-22T09:38:00.001-07:002012-10-22T09:38:50.155-07:00Living Off the Grid...We left our "home" 18 days ago but it seems like so much more time has passed. Perhaps it's been from the lack of cell and Internet access for most of these days. Our first stop was Bodega Bay, which was beautiful since the weather gods graced us with sunshine and very little fog. I was also fortunate to have a full day to myself since the hubby went golfing with a friend at the little 9-hole golf course he partially owns. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZT_x4deOumtLZVMjeIF3URxcTcGZ8jiIwf5jSca7mvgtmxtCOa2dlYTf4oXjCzBsqL-TsNDMS_bkPl0l4ng2A937FVoe4Vdv9dQb6slyJILWBOVVkl66j1tdjFYyYhgCoVm3a0iDBtY/s1600/262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZT_x4deOumtLZVMjeIF3URxcTcGZ8jiIwf5jSca7mvgtmxtCOa2dlYTf4oXjCzBsqL-TsNDMS_bkPl0l4ng2A937FVoe4Vdv9dQb6slyJILWBOVVkl66j1tdjFYyYhgCoVm3a0iDBtY/s320/262.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Jenner, writting in my journal.</td></tr>
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We eventually made our way to Yosemite...my first visit to America's FIRST National Park, but hopefully not my last. As soon as we made the turn into Yosemite Valley I was overwhelmed. I admit, my first thought was that it all seemed so fake. I had not idea that everything was so big and that all of the recognizible features appeared so close together. I mean, you can see El Capitan and Half Dome at the same time! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1TXm6Yv8I72pglnPy-RtOiU99TAlb1W3X7LnY9ORQU70Y4O1ugniY_wngHiQ6Gk3y3RQVup72Hw745bElu-GaDUPLxes0iK64C2RcF52iBkqO-uC3C6oLzX5iYsH03GlL0eNE-Cbuqc/s1600/093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1TXm6Yv8I72pglnPy-RtOiU99TAlb1W3X7LnY9ORQU70Y4O1ugniY_wngHiQ6Gk3y3RQVup72Hw745bElu-GaDUPLxes0iK64C2RcF52iBkqO-uC3C6oLzX5iYsH03GlL0eNE-Cbuqc/s640/093.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Glacier Point Road, the classic "tunnel view" of Yosemite Valley.</td></tr>
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We spent Monday through Saturday in the park, dry-camping in Upper Pines (literally, since we failed to fill up our fresh water tank when we first arrived). The beauty of staying in the valley is the fact that one can easily bicycle around the entire loop without even breaking a sweat (well, at least in October when the weather is mild). We biked every single day...yes, even Clark~the anti-exerciser.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRm-I39dapt0WFccBnh97mDUsHAPdV6eZRBLm6lTEXe84wk6BKUVtbeLFVkdG1jrvvUkY2MYeOFBNHxLQ3Zl9zoUxnbfRlwuAoy-kkQjONdEW_jD4Vzn47vDgszs_I-L5EEF1ldQItMy8/s1600/047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRm-I39dapt0WFccBnh97mDUsHAPdV6eZRBLm6lTEXe84wk6BKUVtbeLFVkdG1jrvvUkY2MYeOFBNHxLQ3Zl9zoUxnbfRlwuAoy-kkQjONdEW_jD4Vzn47vDgszs_I-L5EEF1ldQItMy8/s400/047.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bikes in the valley's meadow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCoKNlk9P-zOQE6n4rhFk93fVGDc8zTZ4xA2vdwMID87chXUJ1V9_6w-uaaBh8mADOZT_kgWlZqZME-q4By_XhcV5qickHOSU47EigBq0jlNPQH8zzWvJiH1qdNh_e23trCeJkyxyDQKI/s1600/055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCoKNlk9P-zOQE6n4rhFk93fVGDc8zTZ4xA2vdwMID87chXUJ1V9_6w-uaaBh8mADOZT_kgWlZqZME-q4By_XhcV5qickHOSU47EigBq0jlNPQH8zzWvJiH1qdNh_e23trCeJkyxyDQKI/s400/055.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clark with Half Dome hovering over his head.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpzcXfY_B-10YpnocuOYgNRxoXMSDzJLPX7K_FGVKdR1SgZomDlKuCCjsOCRs9q5RMeq7FPXL6Vid_U2DLufpiRuXDfuXNuO8it_omCR5xWh56DSVhY4aC7GSylQWoG4p_-uUisZhO-M/s1600/165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpzcXfY_B-10YpnocuOYgNRxoXMSDzJLPX7K_FGVKdR1SgZomDlKuCCjsOCRs9q5RMeq7FPXL6Vid_U2DLufpiRuXDfuXNuO8it_omCR5xWh56DSVhY4aC7GSylQWoG4p_-uUisZhO-M/s400/165.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friendly raven hanging out on Clark's bike (hoping we drop a cracker).</td></tr>
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The other beautiful thing about Yosemite was that we were completely off-the-grid as far as cell and Internet. There was a moment of panic to be sure...but that soon passed and I turned to my journal to write my thoughts and "ah-ha" moments. I also had downloaded several books onto my Kindle prior to losing our Wi-fi (just in case) and ended up reading a few books between biking, hiking and acting like a tourist.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcvT71adBjg4N966om_B3TPBfRwzGDtZQwWdZMUhioMVp4v78NUfH2EAfeYIENpUjYAmpMX5dHWBsns48JaiIfKEp9FBg0gArkZ0xEev_d8M-rAeP4FZ3GbMIv2FFa7-9R9RzzDUrslo/s1600/005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcvT71adBjg4N966om_B3TPBfRwzGDtZQwWdZMUhioMVp4v78NUfH2EAfeYIENpUjYAmpMX5dHWBsns48JaiIfKEp9FBg0gArkZ0xEev_d8M-rAeP4FZ3GbMIv2FFa7-9R9RzzDUrslo/s400/005.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We felt it necessary to enjoy a cocktail at the Ahwahnee...no matter the $25 price tag (for <em>one</em> drink a piece!).</td></tr>
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It turns out I didn't miss the Internet as much as I had first thought. I'm sure my Klout score has dropped and I haven't been on Twitter in a month but I'm not all that concerned any more. A few friends found it hard to have me out of the loop...but maybe sometimes it's good to not have that go-to person to vent to in the heat of the moment. Sometimes it's best to let things sink in, learn to deal with the angst that comes on so suddenly due to short fuses or minor irritations so that eventually {maybe} we can stop and realize that these things are often really insignificant in the long run.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwFZyGwOal7g77sWJVTmi98Xwt3PHMnqd4UsdyP5QF_p3eXf4191W7sWMKXukdlmD0zYqO4Z20CrlTRJIAgcZsceG_NUIadBdsLrxJYhv8Qr4OxXirfoX7qIChSMM5743rPN69wcbKHA/s1600/182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwFZyGwOal7g77sWJVTmi98Xwt3PHMnqd4UsdyP5QF_p3eXf4191W7sWMKXukdlmD0zYqO4Z20CrlTRJIAgcZsceG_NUIadBdsLrxJYhv8Qr4OxXirfoX7qIChSMM5743rPN69wcbKHA/s640/182.JPG" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The leaves changing colors in Yosemite Valley.</td></tr>
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Yes, there was plenty of time to be contemplative and the enormity of the cliffs lent to the realization that not every little thing that happens to us is worth hours of anxiety and a rehashing of wrong doings. That energy can be better spent on other things...reflection, reading, writing, sleeping, smiling, walking or simply looking at the magnificence of this life we've been given.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQ6OQ75c3T819Ur0fLdTMdCwg8p-eZFiwrpk-D19-vNgTqLj6PpsV7ot9GmuP6p1yAVUFoQp0UJkTqRUVYsBUgOB8-XEDlUcJjItkEjoEbOPh79XVEuWzryAQK-BPj2wbYszSmbSZpp0/s1600/062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVQ6OQ75c3T819Ur0fLdTMdCwg8p-eZFiwrpk-D19-vNgTqLj6PpsV7ot9GmuP6p1yAVUFoQp0UJkTqRUVYsBUgOB8-XEDlUcJjItkEjoEbOPh79XVEuWzryAQK-BPj2wbYszSmbSZpp0/s640/062.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rainbow at Vernal Falls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMDrtkSU4cIn6fUjc3rwPj75W-8a9F-BePKRRl-m_iZ94OG_5Uq_I0191kPNZzVqnVYNrRDSpWAhSjfGfia_zZz4a8AAKK4heuveq79p0wG_Yt3AQ6J2QmgA3TPJH7TEB1aWlurVDeP4/s1600/137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMDrtkSU4cIn6fUjc3rwPj75W-8a9F-BePKRRl-m_iZ94OG_5Uq_I0191kPNZzVqnVYNrRDSpWAhSjfGfia_zZz4a8AAKK4heuveq79p0wG_Yt3AQ6J2QmgA3TPJH7TEB1aWlurVDeP4/s640/137.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbers on El Capitan...watching them reminded me of the smallness of my own obstacles.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10706421811138776326noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665089009267266756.post-2355864843218309512012-09-15T10:54:00.001-07:002012-09-15T10:54:59.831-07:00Things I learned by judging others...We all do it...we compare and contrast, criticise and judge. Our society seems to promote it given all of the reality TV shows like X Factor, America's Top Model, The Bachelor and the many others that seem to be taking over our prime time TV slots. "People Watching" (and websites like The People of Walmart) is past-time many of us enjoy for the sheer entertainment value but {generally} without any<em> real</em> underlying mean-spiritedness intended. Well, truth be told, I think most of us know it's not exactly <em>nice</em> but...it is hard to resist.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MjnuXkreVFFKg9NjU-re6VQn0PCnRaM-O35qNeou2JZYrZlhzbPQH_tlxPV0pygGV_nKYp7Hlnt2it0ehBgh3T7Oh6SK_dS-Im__-5KbDRz3UJiE69cLpB1NGryuIetG3WTjQUdbO2o/s1600/jealousy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MjnuXkreVFFKg9NjU-re6VQn0PCnRaM-O35qNeou2JZYrZlhzbPQH_tlxPV0pygGV_nKYp7Hlnt2it0ehBgh3T7Oh6SK_dS-Im__-5KbDRz3UJiE69cLpB1NGryuIetG3WTjQUdbO2o/s320/jealousy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://intentionalworkplace.com/2011/07/07/envy-jealousy-resentment-%E2%80%93-the-%E2%80%9Ccomparison%E2%80%9D-emotions-at-work/">Source</a></td></tr>
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We try to justify some of this because we don't really <em>know</em> those people and/or they are kinda putting themselves out there for our scrutiny (sorry Jersey Shore cast...but you asked for it). But the repercussions of our judgemental nature come to light when it hits closer to home, like when we catch ourselves judging our friend's behavior or choice in clothes/car/mate/hair color, especially when it's done in a negative way. Sometimes we even view other's Facebook posts as ego-centric and self-serving (ummm, hello...it's their personal wall, what should they post about?). We even catch ourselves discrediting another's accomplishment by saying things like <em>"yes, but..."</em> (i.e. "<em>Yes</em> she ran a marathon <em>but</em> did you see how slow it was??").<br />
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I'm guilty. I <strike>did</strike> do all of this and more. I'd really like to say I am beyond judging others...that somewhere along the way between <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2012/08/the-journey-to-inner-peace-maja-despot/">meditation and yoga and running and growing and reading and learning that I've become <em>secure enough with myself</em></a> that the need or desire or that judgemental mechanism inside of me has been removed. But it's still there and rather than dwell on how bad of a person I am I've decide to take a deeper look at myself and find a lesson in it all.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;</span></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em><div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is the green-eyed monster which doth
mock</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The meat it feeds on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~William Shakespeare, Othello</span></div>
</em></span><br />
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You see, most of the time, when I catch myself judging someone I can trace it back to jealousy, insecurity or even a fault in myself that I see reflected back from someone else's behavior. The easiest for me to identify is when I say something like '(insert a beautiful famous person's name here) isn't really all that pretty' (I said this last night about Britney Spears and then had to correct myself later, she<em> is</em> beautiful). I know that the source of this is my own insecurity. It's more of a reflection of my own self-doubt than of someone else's beauty and actually makes <em>me</em> less attractive inside (which really is all that matters anyway, right?).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKxbrjExtdFNBHph8L-4m8-yKUXPAgXxTL7rnoXl7APNV79MT9cU15U0Ji6UN-jTNwxnXZCVEubxQk0STki5Fny1pi6LUPjE8CtLVw-pSqMSpnAem5GDejQkusmApovZCNXGQCLGJzSs/s1600/insecure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKxbrjExtdFNBHph8L-4m8-yKUXPAgXxTL7rnoXl7APNV79MT9cU15U0Ji6UN-jTNwxnXZCVEubxQk0STki5Fny1pi6LUPjE8CtLVw-pSqMSpnAem5GDejQkusmApovZCNXGQCLGJzSs/s320/insecure.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Take that to the next level and when I find myself criticizing (mentally or to another friend~call it gossiping or it's heavily veiled <span class="hw">nom de plume,</span> 'venting') a girl friend who just lost 20 pounds or finds herself in a wonderful and healthy relationship I can pretty much bet that my own insecurities and jealousies are screaming out for attention...(and it's up to me to decide if they get it). <br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em> </em><br />
<em><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is never wise to seek or wish for another's misfortune. If malice or envy
were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang. ~Charley
Reese</div>
</blockquote>
</em><br /></blockquote>
</span>But I also found that when a friend's behavior kinda rubs me the wrong way it's often an indicator that we share a trait that I don't particularly care for in <em>myself</em>. Maybe I don't like how much so-and-so gossips, or brags, or plays victim, or seeks attention, or meddles into every one's business. But if I sit there quietly and ask myself why it bothers me so much (especially when it doesn't really even affect me) the answer may be hard to swallow. It's as if a mirror is being held up to my own face.<br />
It's the ultimate in deflecting because of course, I can claim <em>they</em> are much worse than <em>me.</em> I might even use the words 'well at least I don't...' or 'I may be ____ but at least I'm not that ____'. What 'we' (because I don't think I'm alone here) are really pushing is the idea that we are the lessor of two evils (well, if you don't count the shit talking we're doing). <br />
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One of the most important things I learned from judging others was that it wasn't <em>them</em> that needed to change. <em>It was me</em>. I was the one judging (and if they were doing the same that was their business) but for my own growth (and sanity) it was important for me to learn and at least try to change. My jealously was making me less...not because their success was stealing my joy or sucking up all of the goodness or beauty available in the world, but by making me into <em>that</em> girl...the one who thought that<span style="font-size: large;"> knocking someone else down would somehow lift me up. </span><br />
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There's enough love and beauty in the world for <em>all </em>of us have...it's an endless supply, which means we don't have to "take" it from one person and give it to another. When I see a beautiful flower it doesn't mean that some other flower shrivels up a little and becomes ugly...like a sacrafice to the other's beauty. Same with people...whether it's inner or outer beauty there is plenty to go around (not to mention it already exists in each and every one of us...though we often can't see it through our green-eyed veil). <br />
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There's a beautiful piece from <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/">Elephant Journal</a> I came across this morning that speaks about this...I hope you take a moment to read it <a href="http://www.elephantjournal.com/2012/08/jealousy-the-unbreakable-bonds-of-sisterhood-sandy-rosenblatt-joan-natoli/">here</a>.<br />
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