The Mams Have Been Grammed!

On Thursday, I had my first mammogram. I always thought you were supposed to start having those at age 40, but my doctor wanted me to have it done before we start the IVF stuff.

When I made my appointment, they said that I should wear a "2-piece" outfit because you have to undress from the waist up (and presumably they don't want you standing there completely naked) and that I should not wear any deodorant, perfume, creams, lotions, or powder. Because my appointment wasn't until 2:55pm, it was a challenge for me not to wear deodorant that morning, but I did it. I was self-conscious all day, but I did it.

I got there a few minutes early to fill out the paperwork, including a form about if I was having any breast issues or if breast cancer runs in the family and all that stuff.

As soon as I turned that in, they called me back. I went into a little dressing room where I was to undress from the waist up and put on a hospital gown.

OK, so someone help me out here - are you supposed to put these things on with the ties in the back or the front??? I never know! I put it on with the ties in the back (but didn't tie it) and went into the exam room.

She asked me a few questions (most importantly if I was pregnant) and then had me slip one arm out of the gown. She lifted my breast onto a flat shelf on the machine, had me lean forward, and then lowered a clear plastic "vice-like" part that clamped down on the breast. It continues to press down until the breast is flat as a pancake. It is UNBELIEVABLE how flat they make your breast! I looked down and my boob looked like a dinner plate! The technician said to me, "Please keep your head up" which I think was just to keep you from freaking out about what your boob looks like!
The first scan was not as painful as I thought it might be - it was tight and uncomfortable, but it only stays clamped for like 30 seconds and as soon as the scan is done, it releases.

The second "position" was more uncomfortable - it was a scan of the side, so you kind of hug the machine and it clamps sideways. That hurt a bit - the technician said to "hold my breath" during the scan, but for that second position, I was holding my breath the whole time.

Before the second boob, I said to the technician that I thought I should get Mardi Gras beads because it was my first mammogram, and it was Mardi Gras week, and I was showing my boobs to a stranger! She chuckled a little and said that she was surprised no one ever said that before.

When I was having trouble getting in to the "position," she said that even though she knows what to do, she still has a hard time when she gets her own mammogram done. She also said that I have a "lot of breast tissue to work with" so that helps! I was like, "Why thank you!"

For the second boob, I put my arm back into the gown and took the other arm out. This always makes me think - why bother with the gown?? I mean, you're going to see and touch both of my breasts anyway, why not just let them be out there? I think it's just for the comfort and modesty of the patient, but I think it's ridiculous. It's the same at the gyno appointments - you strip from the waist down, get up on the table, and they give you this paper sheet to put over your legs. Um, hello? Yeah, you are going to have your head between my legs and will be all up in there in a couple of minutes - do I really need this ridiculous sheet? The doctor is going to see my most intimate of intimates, and I'm covering up with a paper sheet? For what?? Like I said, I'm sure it's for patient comfort, but I think we, as patients, need to start being realistic about the ridiculousness of these things!

After the second scan of the second boob, she wanted to look at the scans quickly, and while she was waiting for the computer to bring them up, I asked about this small glass wall, and she said it was "leaded glass" for her protection. I thought that was pretty cool, I'd never seen that before (usually the technician at an x-ray place or dentist's office goes back behind a wall or whatever). I said, "The Cleveland Clinic has the best stuff!" and she agreed saying, "Yeah, you should have seen the place where I worked before!"

All in all, the entire process took less than 10 minutes! I expected to be there for a while, but they got me in and out and on my way very quickly. They said my results will be sent to my doctor and then I'll get results in the mail in 2 weeks or so. And now I know, it wasn't that bad at all!

Second Annual Itchy Awards

Here are my special awards from the Oscar fashions. To see my picks from last year, go to: And the Itchy goes to...

The "I'm not even really sure what is going on with this dress" award goes to Reese Witherspoon...

The "80s hair is in again, right? What? It's not???" award goes to Lisa Rinna...

The "WTF?? But what did we expect?" for a male award goes to Mickey Rourke...

The "WTF" award for a female goes to (I don't know who this lady is, the wife of some executive or something)...

The "Dive into the butter" award goes to Sophia Loren...

The "No one this skinny should have boobs this big" award goes to Sarah Jessica Parker... The "Always Stunning" award goes to Queen Latifah (and my apologies that I was unable to find a picture of her entire dress, but she still looks stunning)...

The "she looks GREAT and isn't even an actress" award goes to Anne Sweeney...

The "I guess you didn't learn anything from last year's Oscars" award goes to Tilda Swinton...
The "is anyone else as offended as I am that they call these beautiful children the 'Slumdog Kids' but they looked just adorable and age-appropriate" award goes to the "Slumdog Kids"...
The "I'm again not sure what to think here" award goes to Amanda Seifried...

The "pink done wrong" award goes to Natalie Portman...

The "pink done right" award goes to Alicia Keyes...The "beautiful sari-inspired dress really works, I love how it honors her culture and looks red-carpet-worthy" award goes to Freida Pinto... The "I actually kinda dig this look" award goes to Virginia Madsen...
The "not taking any chances, but looking very elegant" award goes to Diane Lane...
The "I didn't like your dress last year, either, even if you are a trendsetting beauty" award goes to Heidi Klum...

The "apparently the tabloids are wrong and she's not pregnant again" award goes to Angelina Jolie...
The "built in airbags (and I'm not just talking about her boobs and/or head)" award goes to Jessica Biehl...The "yeah it's different, but I think you look like a couch from an old-folks home" award goes to Mary Hart...
The "I know other people loved this but I think it's horrendous and what's with the belt??" award goes to Miley Cyrus...
The "lots of people hated this, but I really liked it" award goes to Amy Adams...The "I'm not usually a fan, but this is the first time I love what you're wearing" award goes to Penelope Cruz
The "complete hotness in anything (or nothing)" award goes to Daniel Craig...
And my picks for the best dressed at the 2009 Academy Awards:

Kate Winslet (I know, not everyone liked this, but I thought it was edgy and elegant)...

Viola Davis (I love this look, simple, stunning and the whole look just WORKS)...Jennifer Aniston (the best she has ever looked, IMO!)

Anne Hathaway (I know, I liked her look last year, too, but this is amazing)

Taraji P. Henson (unique and just beautiful! Quite possibly my favorite of the night!)

...

I'm Down With A1C (Yeah You Know Me!)

Another Itchy Tingle health update...

Friday, I went back for another A1C test. My new number: 6.5!!! YES! 6.8 to 6.5 in 3 weeks, I am very proud of myself and my doctor was very pleased. So pleased, that he said we could start the Lupron shots right away if we wanted to, which would make the egg harvest in mid-March. Since I was still recovering from the cold, and knowing I'll have a lot of travel in March, I opted to wait one more month. That will also hopefully mean that my A1C number will be even lower, and the lower, the better.

Also, had our first marriage counseling on Saturday. Figure it's a good idea that we are getting along well and communicating before we have another member in the family. When this beautiful young lady came to the waiting room, I thought, "Oh please don't let that be our counselor!" But of course it was! She is beautiful, smart (working on her PhD) and likable! DAMMIT! Thankfully, I really connected with her, and Sean even opened up a bit, so I am feeling encouraged. It was only the first, "get-to-know-you" appointment, but I thought it went pretty well. I mean, she didn't immediately tell us to give up, so that's a good sign!

So, one more month and hopefully we'll be on the way to IVF.

Up next: my first mammogram and a "well woman" appointment (aka: pap smear).

IVF Update

An ItchyTingle Health Report

Finally called the IVF clinic since I didn't get test results from the January appointment. Results:

Cystic Fibrosis = negative (I am not a carrier)
Sean's blood type = A+
Marcy's blood type = A+
Sean's STDs = none
Marcy's STDs = none
German Measles = I am immune
A1C number = 6.8

Tomorrow AM, I go in for another A1C check. They won't do the IVF if it's not under 7, but would ideally like it to be under 6. I'm pretty proud of myself because it was 8.8 in October and I've dropped it 2 whole points in 3 months through meds and better eating.

If the A1C is still dropping, I will start on the Lupron shots on Monday. Otherwise, we might wait another month.

Stayed home sick again today (nasty cold) and was productive in scheduling my first mammogram (my doctor would like that to be done before we do IVF, even though I'm kind of young), and a "Well-Woman" visit (as they call it). Also scheduled an appointment with my regular doctor as a follow up on the A1C and keeping my sugar down.

So, things are heading in the right direction, even if the IVF doesn't happen for a couple of months. Might be for the best - March is a high-travel month for me, would be difficult if I have ot do an egg retrieval in there, too!

Keep on hopin'!!

...

There's nothing wrong with me loving you

Since Valentine's Day is so often celebrated with food of some sort (going out to dinner, chocolates, etc.) I couldn't resist sharing what I read today about aphrodisiac foods (this is from AOL Living). I've never heard of durian or rapini, but some of my favorite foods are on this list! Hmmmmm...

Durian
Durian is so offensively odorous that it is banned in most hotels and airplanes. But once you get past the odor, this "king of fruits" has a pulp that is said to taste like a rich custard. So is the alleged arousal worth suffering the stink? Perhaps… if you believe the famous Malaysian saying, "When the durians come down, the sarongs come off."

Nutmeg
Next time you're pouring nutmeg on your cappuccino, go easy! Although in small doses this piquant spice can cause a drunken, aphrodisiac effect, in large quantities (anything over four teaspoons), nutmeg can spur highly dangerous hallucinogenic reactions. But don't get any ideas: Intravenous injection of nutmeg can be fatal.

Green M&Ms
Although no one knows the true origins of the green M&Ms myth, it is theorized that it began back in the 70's, when students started feeding the green ones to their crushes. Mars embraced the urban legend, turning Green into a long-lashed sex symbol, and even creating bags of all-green candies for a Valentine's Day promotion.

Chocolate
The Aztecs were no fools! They coined chocolate "nourishment of the gods" when they noticed how their moods improved after eating cocoa confections. Indeed, as contemporary science has revealed, chocolate contains subtle traces of the mood-lifter Seratonin, which increases heart rate and induces feelings of happiness and love.

Garlic
It might be the last thing you want to eat before kissing someone, but garlic is said to stir sexual desires. In fact, the fragrant bulb is so famously amorous that Tibetan monks were once forbidden from entering Monasteries after eating it. And it's no urban legend: Modern science has confirmed that garlic improves blood circulation, in turn enhancing sexual performance.

Oysters
When we think aphrodisiacs, oysters are often the first delicacy that comes to mind -- but do they live up to the claims? Well slurp away, lovers. Science has granted credence to the sensual shellfish's aphrodisiac reputation -- oysters are high in zinc and aspartic acids which, in fact, increase testosterone levels.

Avocado
The Aztecs are responsible for the avocado's standing as an aphrodisiac, and again, they were on the money. The buzz started because avocados hang from trees in pairs, which prompted the Aztecs to call the fruit "Ahuacuatl" (which translates to, er, "Testicle tree"). But indeed, avocados are rich in vitamin E – the same nutrient that makes asparagus famous for friskiness.

Asparagus
Even beyond its suggestive shape, asparagus boasts a natural sexual booster. The popular spring veggie is rich in vitamin E, which is thought to stimulate production of sex hormones.

Tarantula
Although the people of Cambodia started eating tarantulas out of necessity during the food-scarce communist regime, they went back for seconds when they discovered the venom worked as an aphrodisiac. Today, deep fried tarantulas – which are gooey on the inside – remain a regular menu item, ripe for the epicurean adventurer.

Snake
In Eastern countries, snake is the king of aphrodisiacs. The slithery creature is said to enhance the yang (or hot, excited energy), making it not only a potent medicine but also a libido enhancer. In China, snake meat is a restaurant delicacy, and in Vietnam, snake wine – venomous snake steeped or mixed in rice wine – is readily available to boost romance.

Truffles
Highly coveted truffles' intoxicating quality isn't in their taste, but their smell. Allegedly, the musky scent stimulates the skin and mirrors male pheromones (which explains why sows seek them out in the wild). Others theorize that truffles' appeal lies in the loaded price tag – up to $500 per pound! – making them the diamonds of mushrooms.

Rapini
No matter what you've heard about its passionate power, the bitterly flavored rapini, also known as broccoli rabe, might not be your first choice for a romantic meal. And although the ground seeds of various plants in rapini's Brassica family are believed to increase virility, the overarching theory on this veggie's rep as an aphrodisiac is that it's merely a marketing ploy to get people to eat it.

Alcohol
Alcohol may lower your inhibitions, but it does not inherently raise your sex appeal. In fact, alcohol is a depressant that tends to slow the sex drive. As the porter in Shakespeare's Macbeth tells us, it "provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance." The one exception is red wine, which increases estrogen levels when drank in moderation.

Crocodile
In Thailand, the most erotic of eats is stewed crocodile. The long-held belief is that anyone who eats crocodile takes on the giant reptile's spirit and aggression. Although there is no scientific proof that eating crocodile will put you in the mood, the meat does have many feel-good substances like natural antioxidants and Omega-3.

A couple of interesting V-Day facts:

120: Number of single men to every 100 single women
The US Census Bureau counts 120 single white men in their 20s (never married, widowed or divorced) for every 100 white women the same age. The odds differ by race: Hispanics are 153 per 100; Asians are 132 per 100; and African Americans shift down to 92 black males for every 100 black females in the same age range.

20-30: Percent higher condom sales
All those romantic gifts and dinners may put couples in the mood, but the good news is that they're being safe. Condom-maker Durex reports a spike in condom sales of about 20-30% around the holiday. In other V-Day sex news, reportedly more home pregnancy tests are sold in March than any other month.

...

Contemplating Peace

Human Nature

At the park on Friday, I went to a place where there was an observation deck for observing animals and birds in a big field. It was very serene, and very empty.

I've found that with the camera, I spend a lot more time looking up and out, and not looking down (which is what I tend to do when I'm walking, making sure not to step in anything or lose my footing). As I came back to the car after spending an hour or so at this spot, I looked down. And this is what I saw...

I kind of chuckled, thinking someone had enjoyed this spot, and at least they were being safe. When I got in the car and looked out the window, here's what I saw, a few feet away...


So then I took this one, to complete my photo essay of Human Nature, which shows the proximity of the items.

I guess there's always a little bit of human in nature.

...

Leaving

I don't know if it was Girl Scouts or what, but I learned somewhere along the way to always leave a place better than you found it. In Girl Scouts, this meant that you clean the cabin before you leave, even if it was a mess when you got there.

Today, I leave the place where I've been staying. I am washing the sheets, towels, and dishes, vacuuming, packing my stuff. It makes me a little sad. I love it here. This space has been healing for me, a place of respite. I am so grateful for the friends who let me stay here, so much so that when I think about my gratitude I get tears in my eyes.

This space was full of good karma when I got here. It is a warm and beautiful home, open and light, and you just feel good when you are in it. And to have it all to myself for this week has been a gift like no other.

Coming in to a place so wonderful already, how do you leave it better than you found it? It was very clean when I got here, so I can clean. But I'm not sure how to leave it better. The only thing I can hope for is to leave some of my own good karma, my gratitude, my revelations, my openness, and hope the next residents here will feel those things.

It got me thinking about the lives we touch - do we leave people better than we find them? Are we gentle with the people we meet, knowing they are only ours for a short time?

Sometimes we take for granted the people who should mean the most to us. Those who are closest to us never seem to get the best of us - they get the worst. It's a phenomenon I never understand when I look back and see that I've done (and continue to do) it.

I truly believe that the people in our lives are there for a reason. Sometimes they are only there for a short time, sometimes they are in our lives for a lifetime. But they always bring something that we need in our lives for the time they are with us. Maybe it is a sympathetic ear during a job you didn't like. Maybe they settle in your heart so that even when you go for long periods of time without talking, they are still there, so the next time you connect it's like no time has passed since the last time.

Even people who bring pain into our lives have a reason. Maybe it is to shake us out of our lethargy so that we can find energy for living. Maybe it is to show us through adversity the strength in ourselves. Think about the people who have hurt you - what did you learn from that experience? That is their reason.

Likewise, our gifts are meant for the people whose lives we weave ourselves in and out of. Maybe for a lifetime, maybe for a moment. Are the gifts we share leaving people better than we found them?

I've been singing a song by Sara Groves a lot lately, called "Loving a Person." The part of the song that always hits me is:

"Loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing.
That's the whole thing."

I'd like to add a verse to that song:

"Loving OURSELVES just the way we are, that's no small thing.
That's the whole thing."

Maybe by loving people, things, and ourselves the way we find them - no matter how we find them - is real love. Loving the dark and the light, the sweet and the sour, the quiet and the loud, the hot and the cold, and finding beauty and appreciation for all of it. Maybe that's how we leave things better than we found them - by loving them just as they are.

...

The photo above is the space where I journaled every morning.

Guilty Pleasures

Where your pleasure is,
there is your treasure;
Where your treasure is,
there is your heart;
Where your heart is,
there is your happiness.
- Saint Augustine

Why do we feel guilty about feeling good? Why do we save the things that give us pleasure for special occasions?

It's a paradox - we feel guilty about feeling good because we feel like we are taking away from someone else. But we feel guilty about feeling bad, because, as we tell ourselves, someone else always has it worse.

Aren't we all in the "pursuit of happiness?" Isn't that what so many feel is the meaning of life - to just be happy? Why then do we talk ourselves into feeling bad about it when we finally get there?

Most philosophers agree that happiness and pleasure are byproducts of the things we do. As they say, it's the journey, not the destination. Even Aristotle talked about our pursuit of pleasure, noting that as humans, we are incapable of continuous pleasure because we are incapable of continuous activity - and pleasure is what comes with the activity.

In Man's Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl put it this way:

"Happiness cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side effect of one's personal dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the byproduct of one's surrender to a person other than oneself."

John Stuart Mill, the utilitarian philosopher, said:

"But I now thought that this end [one's happiness] was only to be attained by not making it the direct end. Those only are happy (I thought) who have their minds fixed on some object other than their own happiness[....] Aiming thus at something else, they find happiness along the way[....] Ask yourself whether you are happy, and you cease to be so."

I'm not sure how I feel about all of this. I continue to seek things that give me pleasure, wanting and hoping to be "happy." To think of pleasure as a byproduct seems to lessen it somehow to me. But I do agree - at least for me, happiness is found in the happiness of others. And most often, we find happiness when we are not looking for it.

I like to think of our emotional "stuff" (our "baggage") like a backpack we always have with us. We are taught that, to be happy, we are to take that backpack, dump it out (to a friend, or a therapist, or a family member, or a random stranger in line at the grocery store) and then leave it where we dumped it. But that doesn't work. Why? Because we have memories. There are too many things we can't leave behind.

I like to visualize working through my emotional stuff in this way - I take my backpack, dump it out, and try to sort through the things I need or don't need for the rest of the journey. There are some things I can leave behind forever. There are some things I'll hold on to, "just in case." There are some things that I know I'll need. And there are some things I am just not ready to let go of.

The best I can do sometimes is to toss a few things to lighten my load, and the rest I put back in my pack in a more organized way. It helps to sort through things, because it makes it easier for us to find the things we need when we need them.

A lot of the things in our backpacks are things we need - they are the things we've learned that keep us safe, that help us navigate the trail, that shelter us and nourish us and comfort us. When we go through difficult situations, we carry the tools from that experience in our backpacks. Sometimes we also carry things we won't always need, like the feelings of hurt, which we'll let go of if and when we're ready.

After losing my son, I experienced an early miscarriage a few months later. It was a setback, for sure, bringing back the memories of losing my son, of my body's failure, of the guilt at having such a hard time carrying a pregnancy. But when I talked about that experience, I talked about tools. I compared it to digging a big hole. When I lost Eroll, I had to dig the hole by hand. Every day, digging a hole with just my fingers and fingernails. It was hard, painful work. But through it, I learned to make my own tools. When I had the miscarriage, I still had to dig a hole, and it was still hard, painful work. But now I had a shovel. It didn't mean I didn't have to dig the hole, I still had to do the work. But now I had tools.

I like to think that many of the things in our backpacks are just that - tools that we've learned to create along the way. For many of them, we just never know when we might need them.

So, do we have tools in our backpacks that give us pleasure? (cue gutter-thoughts here) Do we carry things with us that make us happy?

Pleasure is thought to be an individual experience - what gives me pleasure may not be the same for you. Pleasure can be found in pretty much any physical, sensual, emotional, or mental experience, at least by someone. I find pleasure in music, writing, food, sex, relationships. Some people find pleasure in exercise, public recognition, drugs.

I don't want to get into the meaning of life or what makes us happy. I guess what I wonder is, why do we feel guilty when we feel pleasure? Pleasure is part of the human experience, we are hard-wired for it, and every one of our senses is capable of experiencing pleasure as well as pain.

My theory is that we feel guilty because we feel by receiving pleasure, we are taking it away from someone else. I wonder what it is about our culture that makes us feel that way. Why do we feel ashamed about feeling good? As long as your pleasure does not cause someone else to hurt, why not do it?

I don't like the term "guilty pleasures" - if something gives you pleasure, embrace it. If you aren't hurting someone else, don't feel guilty about it. There is so much about the universe that gives us pleasure. I think denying that, closing our eyes to the experiences that make us feel good, is where we should feel guilty.



...

Cracks

"There is a crack, a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in."
- Leonard Cohen

I find it beautiful that no matter how you try to shut light out, it has a way of getting in. Closing a bedroom door at night, with a sliver of light crawling in from the bottom of the door. Drawing the curtains, only to be awakened by a piercing sun beam stabbing its way through the crack between them.

That's the amazing thing about light - no matter what we do, it has a way of getting in. We can close our eyes or draw the shades tighter and try to shut it out. Or we can throw the curtains open and embrace it.

After I lost my son, I was in a very dark place for a long time - at least 18 months. Nothing looked or felt right, like a fog or an old black and white movie with specks and lines in it. I was a ghost of a human being. I am sure seasons changed, the sun shone, but I don't remember it. All I remember is gray.

There were lights that tried to get in, but they were too bright for the dark place where I was, like the pain your eyes feel emerging from a dark theater into bright sunlight. There was one light that I let in, because it was new, and it healed me. It was the light of my nephew who, in allowing me to love him and loving me in return as only an infant can, healed me in ways I never could have found on my own. I read once that to heal from grief, find something you love and love it.

Losing my son broke me, shattered me. I had been broken and cracked before, as we all experience in life, but never shattered. I visualize myself and all lives as vases. Beautiful, fragile, capable of holding so much. My vase for sure had chips and cracks. But losing Eroll was like someone had picked me up and thrown me violently to the floor.

If you've ever broken something like that, you know that pieces fly everywhere - some so small they are never recovered. And pretty much every time something is shattered like that, it is a lost cause. Irreparable. Best to sweep up the pieces and put them into the trash.

Thinking of a life shattered like that, it's not hard to see and understand why some people never recover. Can you imagine taking those tiny pieces - thousands of them - and trying to put them back into what they once were?

I like to believe this is what I did and am still doing, fully knowing and acknowledging that the vase of myself will never be the same. There will be scars of the brokenness, there will be pieces forever missing.

Before this retreat time, I found this quote that I posted:

"When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something has suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful." ~Barbara Bloom

I have always found beauty in brokenness, but I am not sure that I did that, filled my cracks with gold. I think I've tried to smooth over the cracks, to make it appear that I was whole, normal.

I had a revelation about 18 months after losing Eroll. Driving home from work, on a gray day in a gray city, I realized that I could allow Eroll to be a cloud over my life, a dark place I could not get out of. Or I could choose to let him be the light in my life. I didn't want people to see my anger, bitterness, and depression and say, "She is that way because of her son." I wanted people to say, "She is loving, compassionate, and joyful because of her son." This day was a turning point in my healing and in my coming alive again.

Cracks are always thought of as negative. They are places where we experience leaks, where we lose things, where there is a risk of further breakage, of weakness, where things can get in, or get out.

One of my favorite spiritual teachers is Sobonfu Somé. She came to the U.S. from Burkina Faso in West Africa and is a voice for indigenous wisdom and spirituality. At a new age bookstore, I impulsively picked up the last they had of her book, "Falling Out of Grace: Meditations on Loss, Healing and Wisdom." (From what I've found, it is now out of print, but if you watch, you can find it on eBay).

In her book, she defines grace as the state every being strives for, living harmoniously, progressing toward the purpose we are meant for.

Somé says we must be broken, sometimes many times, before we can experience grace. And this brokenness, this falling out of grace, is a gift.

She also teaches that when we feel we have fallen out of grace, when we feel we have been broken, whatever event or person or feeling that caused it is trying to tell us something. It is in that place, that person, that feeling, that we must focus, because that thing that jolts us out of our complacency, that thing that breaks us, is where we find our true purpose, our happiness.

Maybe the thing that breaks us, that causes cracks in our vase, is the one thing that lets the light in, that opens us to where we are meant to be, even when we are blinking and teary-eyed from its brightness.

There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.

...

Every Life Needs a Direction

I am so glad I have a GPS on this journey. My Garmin has helped me explore a bit, knowing I just have to press "home" and it will guide me there. Sometimes when I'm using it, I see a sign pointing to some place I want to explore, so I take a different road. When I do this, it always says, "recalculating" and tries to tell me to turn left or turn right to get back on track to my originally programmed destination. This week, since I've been alone and quiet so much, I've started talking back to my Garmin. "Turn left" she says. "NO!" I shout. "I'm not going to!" Yes, I've been talking out loud to the Garmin.

When I started using the Garmin in December (it was an early Christmas present from Sean) I was amazed by its accuracy. At the same time, I wish it gave you affirmations throughout the journey, like:

"Turn right here. Good job!"
"Arriving at destination. You made it!"
"You're doing great!"
"You're almost there!"

It just seems to be a guide that never lets you know how you're doing - unless you miss a turn!

You can choose other voices and other languages on the Garmin, but the default one really sounds best to me. It's a pleasant female voice, even if it is pretty unemotional. The other two American English choices are very monotone and remind me of the way they portray Stephen Hawking on Family Guy or a Speak & Spell (which always had an evil sound to them, if you ask me).

So, when I've programmed a destination, but choose to explore, and the Garmin urges me to turn left and I don't, and it "recalculates" and tells me to turn again, I have to turn it off, often saying out loud, "I'm making my own way!" Of course, I can be pretty bold knowing my electronic guide is just a button push away.

I woke up this morning to a voice. It said, "Every life needs a direction." My eyes opened. It was 7:00am.

I wrote this down (because we should always listen when a voice speaks so clearly) and went back to sleep (because if you know me, you know I am not getting up at 7:00am unless I have to!). I knew this statement would be something I would ponder later.

When I was on one of the roads at the park the other day, I came to a place where the road went in two directions. I wasn't sure which way I should turn, so I just went to the right. As I came to the park exit, I saw that either direction would have led me to the same place since the road was a loop.

I've always felt this way about choices - that more often than not, whatever we choose leads us to the same place. That a choice made with the heart is never wrong, even when it might hurt later.

Most of us travel on roads that are not our own. There are road signs showing us how we "should" travel on the path. Certainly, some signs are there to keep us safe. But on the road of life, we are constantly met with signs that were placed there by rule-makers who came before us. They are things we were taught growing up that have become part of what we now believe - that we get (or don't get) what we deserve, that life is scary and painful, and feelings of shame, of guilt, of powerlessness, of fear.

All of these become the rules of our personal roads, even though we had no choice in making them. But, when we grow up and become the caretakers of our own roads, we do have choices. If you could visualize your path, your road, what would it look like? Would it be full of potholes and lined with signs? I doubt anyone would want that to be their personal road. Mine would be a gently curving path, lined with grass and trees and flowers and plants, with some shade and some sun. Of course there would be a few signs, just in case someone else was on my path, so they would know how to behave. My signs would be simple - a few arrows showing where to go, a couple of signs pointing out significant places along the way, and one rule: no hurting any living thing. This, of course, is the "ideal" path for me, not the one I really have.

When some friends were trying to sell their house, they did some work on the yard to give it curb appeal. It looked great, but one thing was bothering them - an ugly, rusty, metal "no parking" sign on their tree lawn. They had started working it back and forth to loosen it and they told me that they were going to remove it in the middle of the night. Sure enough, a few days later the sign was gone and you would never know it was there in the first place. Yes, this is probably illegal in some way. But it was their house, they had no choice where the sign would go when it was placed there, and they were just trying to make their home more beautiful. This was two years ago and no one has said a word since.

I'm not saying break the law - but when we're talking about your metaphorical road, it is YOUR road and you get to make the rules of your road. If you've ever tried to remove a road sign (ahem, not that I have) then you know the pole is deep, sometimes cemented in the ground, and requires a lot of rocking back and forth to loosen it. Some of our road signs are going to be like that - the hardest ones to remove will be the ones that say how life "should" be - how WE "should" be. These signs are rusty and old from generations of use.

Some people may not ever feel a need to remove their signs. But if you've felt negative feelings of guilt, fear, anger, bitterness - whatever sign is making you feel that, whatever "rule" you think you've broken, needs to be torn from your road. Those signs will never lead you to a place of happiness.

Listen to your voices - the images, feelings, sounds, names, songs, and faces you can't stop thinking about. Those are the places where you will forge new paths. The things that make you feel most alive are the places where your heart longs to be. The "good" feelings are your direction. And every life needs a direction.

So, grab some work gloves and a shovel and sneak out to your road. Start listening to your heart and the things you crave from life. Start making your road one you want to be on. Don't worry - your heart is your personal GPS that will always lead you home.

...

A Meaning for Melting

Another bright, sunny day! As more and more earth pokes through the ice and snow, I hear dripping and sliding from the roof. Melting.

When I feel down, depressed, low, I often equate it with feeling like I'm melting. Sliding from a solid, stable form to a puddle - shallow, dirty, small. I think I tend to see melting as something negative, a dwindling or fading away of something.

Melting is essentially the changing of forms from solid to liquid. In science, they even use the word "reduces" when referring to the change from solid to liquid. And the change always requires a catalyst. Like today, it is the sun and warm air melting the ice and snow.

I think my everyday existence is to be frozen. Solid, unmoving, and resistant of change. What freezes me into that state? Probably routine, the daily sameness, laziness, apathy, busy-ness.

I long for more liquid days, I long to be melted by the things that warm me into fluidity. My catalysts are found in giving and receiving - love, passion, music, peace, nature, light. There are far too few of these things in my life, but when I have them, I melt. I go from stagnant solid to flowing fluid, moving, pulsing, reaching, quenching.

Unlike the sun, our catalysts are rarely just given to us - they must be sought and sometimes asked for. So it's often easier to stay frozen solid and in a state of being where we are hardened to hurt. Being frozen is easier in a lot of ways. But how can we inspire if we are jaded? How can we relate with others if we are unmoving? How can truly live if we are bound up in ourselves?

By melting, we allow ourselves to be transformed into a different way of being. There is both a gentleness and a power to being liquid. Both a grace and a terror. But in liquid, there is life - there is motion. From tremendous waterfalls to ocean depths, from the drip of a melting icicle to the slow slide of a single tear. These are the places where we find beauty and inspiration.

But to be that, to do that, is to give in to the melting. To allow ourselves to take the risk of being changed even when the transformation might be, and usually is, painful. I wonder if the melting ice cries out in its final moment before it turns to water. If it does, I imagine it also feels a great sigh, the relief of releasing a tear, as it rolls on.

Sunlight is silent and sometimes we may not realize we're melting until the last frozen bit of ice is all that is left in our warming puddle. Maybe we cling to that piece, that last shard of our solid selves. Or maybe we surround it with our slowly warming waters, and all that it was - and we were - changes. Our molecules remain the same, we remain who we are. But our state of being has changed and in this new state we are capable of more - to move, to flow, and even to change again.

We may return to our icy state at times when we need to protect ourselves or when we're overwhelmed, or even when we fall back into the routines of life. But we never know when the sun will shine and melt us once again.

While I long to be liquid, I also long for the blissful moments when I am air, part of the atmosphere. To throw back our arms with abandon and breathe out until our entire being is exhaled and we are able to expand as far as we allow ourselves, weaving in and out of one another until we barely recognize ourselves, or each other. It is in those moments that we feel most connected with ourselves and the universe, and those moments are rare.

Which is why so much has been written about such things - finding our bliss, our nirvana, our purpose. What if our purpose is ever-changing? What if there are times when we are meant to be solid, when what is habitual for us enables the routines of the universe?

There will be times when we need to melt, to quench our parched and withered roots, curled and cracking from so much winter. And to sate the thirsts of others, to prepare their dry earth for seeds of their own.

When we find a place where the liquid of ourselves perfectly fills the fracture in another, or the dry riverbed of a need, that is when we exhale. And it is like finally releasing our breath after holding it to a point of pain.

It is the ecstasy of release where we linger until we are gathered up to begin the cycle again, collecting us as a cloud and falling as a gentle rain or soft frozen snow.

...

Flight

This morning, the sun is shining again. It is about 40 degrees already and the world here is melting. I watched the birds for a while - well, I heard them more than saw them. They were chirping and chattering over a small hill where I couldn't see them, and their little heads popped up once in a while. It sounded like there were many, maybe 50, and one I saw was a robin. It got me thinking about flight.

When we think about flight as a metaphor, at least for me, it's something beautiful. It is freedom and letting go, being inspired and taking wing, taking off to the sky only when blissful and free.
For the birds I just saw, flying was about fear. Something startled them, a larger, more dominant bird of prey, a small hawk I saw settle into a tree. We envy that birds have the ability to take to the air, to leave all the dangers of the earth and soar.

What makes us fly?

What if, like the birds, the thing that makes us fly is fear? What if we only soar when something invades our comfort zone, forcing us to seek immediate safety? Baby birds often only learn to fly when pushed from the nest. Have I pushed myself from the nest? Have I flown in search of safety?

In some ways, I guess I have. But I also wonder if I've flown to a different kind of place - just as frightening - where I am forced to be alone with myself and confront the scariest thing of all - ME.

I pushed myself from the nest. I startled myself into flying. I was frightened by the darkness, the deep downward spiral of self-loathing. When I saw myself react out of fear, I had regret. And those times seemed to become more frequent, so that I was moody, unable to react with clarity. Flying... with no place to land.

A spiritual healer I saw several times in Arizona once told me that we all react out of either fear or love. Sometimes pain causes us to respond in fear. And that often makes us feel more pain, more fear, and inflict that upon others.

She shared the example of walking in the woods with her dog. The dog stepped in a bear trap and his leg was caught. When she rushed to help, he turned on her, growling and snapping. Looking back, she knows her dog loves and trusts her - but he was reacting out of fear and pain.

Where are my bear traps? In the times I've snapped and snarled, what was the fear behind it that kept me from a reaction of love and clarity?

I've learned to see people who are angry, hurtful to others, bitter, and all-around negative as broken people. This realization has helped me to look at people whose actions I don't understand with compassion rather than hatred. For people who have let their brokenness define them, I wonder what broke them? What shattered them into so much confusion that every human interaction they have is dysfunctional? My heart aches for their brokenness - and in that change from disgust to compassion, I move from fear to love.

I think about people in other lands who have been broken by injustice, circumstance, disaster, or systems of power that rely on hurt and fear. And the citizens who suffer, aren't they human like me? I have been broken by suffering and hurt - but I am also surrounded by systems and people to heal me. I wonder at the desperation one must feel to think that a suicide bomb is the answer. How desperate, how deep the hurt, how profound the fear, to think that is the only way.

I guess it's human nature to seek revenge when one is wronged. And sometimes, like the dog caught in the the bear trap, we lash out and hurt those we love the most, because the fear and pain are so immediate.

I have hope for this world and my life - but it is because I live in a place where systems exist to heal, and I am blessed by people in my life and heart who love unconditionally.

In observing healthy relationships, I've learned that each must be whole as individuals before being whole as a couple, a family, a community. And we can't force others to be whole, but must work on our own wholeness and provide opportunities for others to find theirs.

This is not to say any of us are ever really whole. But how can we expect to have healthy relationships without being healthy individuals?

It is in the times of fear and flight that we come alive, and times of darkness are sometimes the push we need to renew our spirits. What frightens us, what breaks us, are sometimes what we need to learn who we really are.

Like birds, sometimes fear makes us take flight - and our fear is increased as our wings get tired and we don't see a safe place to land.

The blessing for me? Everywhere I look, I see branches.

...