Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo from I Am Not the Babysitter; used with permission)




**send your magical milk pics to christinemoers at hotmail dot com**

The right thing is sometimes the hardest thing

I have been learning so much much from "Parenting From the Inside Out."

One of the things that has really stuck with me is how we work through situations with other people. This, of course, is true in parenting, but it fits every relationship. Check this out.

We all can figure out that when something is said or an experience happens, we receive it. Then we process it (grapple with what just happened, what was said/done and the "why?"), and then we respond. That's a pretty simplified way to explain the millions of different interactions throughout every day.

Receive >>>> Process >>>> Respond

Yet, it's how we respond that completely alters an interaction. Particularly with parenting, we slide into a default we have seen and experienced over and over and over again. It looks like this:

Interrogate >>>> Judge >>>> Fix

Can you remember a time someone has done this to you? Can you think of dozens, maybe hundreds of times? Roll around in it for a minute. Try to remember what happened. Try to remember how you were feeling. Did you feel you were heard and understood? Were you purposefully being mean/bad/manipulative just for the sake of it?

This process is the norm in parenting. It's easy to do. It's not because we're all bad people who don't give a crap about our kids. It's because we're human and we repeat what we know without ever thinking twice about it. We do this because changing a default habit takes a really, really really long time. I assume I will finally form permanent changes in my parenting about the time I am no longer parenting. THAT'S when it will come easy to me. heh.

So, the example above is a perfect way to disconnect with someone. If behaviors are communication, then we are ignoring their desire to connect with us. Another way, which actually creates collaboration, would look like this:

Explore >>>> Understand >>>> Join

Easy to say, I know. I KNOW! It's one thing to read this, and nod your head and understand in this moment. It's another thing to fight your natural gut reaction when you are being triggered by a behavior.

I KNOW. Really. However, there is a big "but" ...

The difficulty of doing the right thing does not negate the fact that it's still the right thing.

So, start by making cheat notes. Write the word "explore" all over your house. Or just big "E"'s everywhere. Explore. When you feel triggered, that is your alarm to remind you it's time to explore and understand what is going on with your child. Take a long, deep breath until your eyebrows can lilt in a very loving look of discovery and compassion. If our behaviors are a reflection of what we're feeling, then keep breathing until you can see the feeling behind the behavior.

Then move to understanding what is really going on. Acknowledge that your child may not experience life in the same way you do. Admit that you don't know how they feel because you have not had to live through the same experiences. Study them so you can learn.

Finally, join them there. Agree with them. Hear their experience of the situation and let your face join their face. If you truly don't "get it," still join them: "I had no idea you felt this way. This must be so hard." Because if YOU felt that way, would you desperately not want to be alone in it? Join them.

Screw up and try it again the next time, anyway. Practice this so you don't suck at it so much.

"It is when a child's behavior is taken personally, that the parent reacts. In essence, a parental reactionary stance is telling the child, 'You need to stop acting this way so I'll stop feeling this way.' Look for these unconscious patterns in order to stop shifting the blame onto your child for your own reactions." - Heather T. Forbes

Yeah ... OUCH! Don't worry. I understand how you feel. I'm joining you. We're all kinda' bloody after this one.




(photo by Mariska van Brederide, used with permission)

Sanity is overrated

Source: justeventeux.blogspot.com via Christine on Pinterest

Why not?

“Why not go out on a limb? Isn’t that where the fruit is?” ~ Frank Scully




"So for once in my life
I saw what I wanted
and took a bite.
I picked the fruit from the tree
and it was ripe."

- Ben Lee, "Ripe"

I've got love that jingle jangle jingles

I have wind chimes in my house.

Above the kitchen garbage can.

They were regifted from a friend. They rarely catch any sort of a breeze. It's actually very rare to hear them. But when I'm chunking a piece of trash, or when my dreads catch them just right, or when someone is heading through the house quickly, or better yet - if someone is wafting a cape or some other form of large, unusual object ...

we hear them

In hearing, we feel love. We hear the laughter again, that these friends have brought to our home. We are reminded of their passion and courage.

No matter what is going on, you can't help but feel something positive when you experience that rare moment of beautiful sound ... reminding us of beautiful people.

I have many things like this around me. Our days can be tough, and this task in life can feel daunting. Fill your home with little glimpses of love and community and encouragement. Put them in unexpected places. Like - over the garbage can.

i heart therapy

Source: None via Heather on Pinterest

Sometimes I don't listen to my own advice.

This week, after reeling over the "what to do" for a very long time," I finally realized that we have not sought out therapy for one of my kids with lesser issues.

So, I've been mom, teacher and therapist. I have also been taking on a lot of eternal pain from others in the triad, etc., etc., etc. And can't figure out why we have stayed in a holding pattern.

That's stupid.

I have been stupid. It happens. Then you get smart again and you fix it.

Today we met with what is a fabulous person who will actually be my child's therapist. She was lovely as I said, "I've been trying to do your job. That was not wise. I know better. So, I'm resigning and you're hired!"

She accepted.

My kid and I have decided that we are gonna' be ... ya' know ... more parent/child. And hopefully enjoy each other more. And both hurt less.

Who woulda' thought?

Their, there, and they're

Today I'd like to make a plea for all aging and/or perimenopausal/menopausal humans everywhere.

I know the difference between and correct use of "their," "there," and "they're."

I know the rules on plurals and possessives.

I placed in State UIL competition for typing, dang it. I was once sharp as a tack, corrected grammatical errors in my dreams and passed the time during my dad's sermons (sorry, Dad) by writing them in shorthand with my finger on my leg.

I love words. I'm good at words. Well, until the last few years.

I once lifted my eyebrows at grammatical errors and what appeared to be poor writing. No more. Because I'm losing it.

I haven't lost what I know to be correct. Yet, when I read back over things I've written, I can't help but wonder who took over my body and threw out all those mistakes. It's crazy.

It's the way our bodies change. I'm learning more about it. The brains of women actually change during puberty. Their body prepares for multi-tasking. Chemicals shift so that our cognitive abilities are off the charts. We are able to care for ourselves and many, many others simultaneously. It's quite remarkable.

And then ... not so much. Apparently nature thinks we need a break from all of this clarity as our bodies move into that new phase of life. That high level of intense mental capacity is a waste of energy that should be applied elsewhere. For the record, I disagree with this, and feel that other areas of my body are doing just fine. It is crushing to experience this part of change. I DO NOT LIKE IT. I didn't get a vote.

So, give your sisters a break. Don't assume we're idiots.

Just assume we're old.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by evaguein, used with permission)




**send your magical milk pics to christinemoers at hotmail dot com**

Hoops and auctions and exercise

There is this crazy amazing auction going on to raise scholarship money for the Orlando retreat. If you look around and wonder if, indeed, Kathy's Famous Shortbread is worth that kind of money, I can assure you - NO. It's worth WAY MORE! Holy crap, that stuff is orgasmic!

I'm still putting in miles every week in the 500 Mile Challenge, to encourage people to donate. I'm at 139.5 out of 500. Still truckin'.

A friend put forth another challenge: if the girls and I would make another hooping video to one of her favorite songs, she would donate $$ to the scholarship fund. Well, you don't have to ask us twice!

I leave you with a splash of Hoop Church in Austin, and some major hoopage all over the city of Gonzales. This includes the old jail, and my own personal graffiti on the back fence of my boys' Scout leader's house while enjoying an iced booty call. Thank you, Dennis, for being such a great sport!

This video is helping more moms take a respite break while bringing hope and healing to their children with a history of trauma. It's also kinda' catchy and fun!

How to escape criticism

Source: littleg.tumblr.com via Christine on Pinterest

Death. Hey - common ground!

An interesting talk on the clouds ... as in, the internet - not heaven. I, immediately, thought of Brain Hell. His was the first blog I ever read start-to-finish. I felt I knew him and wept the first time I actually saw his face ... because it meant he was gone.





This also makes me chuckle. Who is going to beam me into their living room one day to talk about vibrators?

So, we homeschool

It's that time of year. Back to school shopping. Supplies being gathered. Curriculum being ordered. My husband has his classroom just about ready.

So I hear.

I have had the wonderful privilege of meeting and connecting with several women this summer who are just beginning to homeschool. You want to wrap your arms around them and squeeze the nervousness right out of them. You want to send the just-enjoy-it vibes into them. One amazing mom continuously got tears in her eyes as she talked with several of us who have been doing this a really long time. She wants to relax, but she's terrified. It seemed like the more we said, "Eh ... whatever," the more she tensed up.

There is so much pressure out there. It breaks my heart. Even the "old hat" moms I know who do a set curriculum and a scheduled day, are still so very relaxed and flexible. Yet, starting out, these poor parents are feeling SO MUCH ANXIETY.

It's a perfect reflection of the expectations we have on students, yet that is coupled with how our school systems set students up to fail. Not just fail in their grades, but fail socially, mentally and emotionally. We have these amazing teachers who are doing their absolute best, but also with heavy expectations placed upon them that limit how they can truly connect in their classrooms.

My friend, Annie, recently attended a training with the therapist, Dan Hughes. In a post discussing her experience, she wrote: "Research has shown that people need a sense of safety in order to learn. One of the things shown to decrease a sense of safety is evaluation. (Kind of contrary to the atmosphere in a lot of classrooms - you think?)"

So, these parents who are starting this amazing adventure of educating their children at home, are entering it with the same sense of evaluation. When they should feel like they're running to skinny dip for the first time, they are instead experiencing fear and pressure.

Yuck.

I still refuse to believe it can't improve and change. I want to give every child what my children have. I want every teacher to connect with their students like my husband does. I want every person who walks into an environment of learning to feel excited and free and daring and expectant and as if they're swimming in icy water, in their skivvies, for the very first time!

Dang it.

My mineral makeup found Jesus

My dang Bare Escentuals has eternal life, ya'll.

I'm not kidding.

Granted, I don't wear make-up every day. When I do, it's mineral powder, a little eye liner and mascara. The end.

But seriously, I have had my base color for four years. Concealer and finishing powder? At least six years.

Still works like a charm. Still looks like it has barely been touched.

So, it's either going all five-loaves-and-two-fishes on me, or found God and has died and gone to heaven in my little cosmetic bag.

I'm sure that's it.

Surround yourself with passionate people

When I have found myself in the darkest crevices of life, I also find that I loathe and hate happy people. At least for a little bit. They piss me off.

To which many of you are saying, "YEA!" and then also, "And I have totally hated you, Christine. You have totally pissed me off!"

I get it. Some of my dearest friends have been the source of said pissiness (sorry auto-correct).

It's in those moments, days and weeks that we tend to only hear and read the positive in the lives of others. I have written posts where I just dump my misery and frustration. Yet, people comment, wondering how I stay so positive. Yup. I've been there. It's like short-term PTSD. You can't hear what was actually said, but you are hearing things based on your current experience and feelings. You can't think about tomorrow because you can't even see past this second to get your brain there. And why would you? It might suck, too!

Yet, I want to be happy. I want to be positive. So, I have built some principles for myself over the years and I stick to them better and better, the older I get.

I surround myself with passionate people. If you are passionate about turtles, and I find them weird and boring - doesn't matter. It's your passion that is contagious. I want to gravitate to you. I want us to connect on our common ground and I want that fervor to ooze into the things I love. And who knows? Maybe I'll find I actually do have an interest in turtles, after all.

When I am in a parenting slump, I have a very select group of people I cling to. Each of them will do two things for me: they will let me moan and whine and ask stupid questions I already know the answers to. They will say, "Man, that SUCKS!" and give me space to grieve and doubt that I can do this for one more second.

They will also stay close and gently nudge me forward. Each of them, in their own special way, will be my greatest cheerleader. Some kick my butt a little harder to get me back in the game. Some share music. Some send Reiki. Some pray over me. Others sit in silence with me. Some ask me questions and let me find my own way back through the answers.

They are passionate about parenting. They are my inner circle. When I am floundering, and I read their positivity, I HATE IT. It pisses me off. So, I feel it, and I embrace it and I roll around with it. And when I'm ready, I reach out to them.

I have the same circles for different areas of my life: health, simplicity, diet, faith, marriage, business. Most of my friends overlap these categories. It's beautiful.

The vast majority of my inner circles do not live near me. Technology is my BFF. I can actually have a face-to-face conversation with someone on my computer, any time, 24/7. Throw in texts and emails and FaceBook and I have an amazing source of positive mojo!

Last night I went to bed, thinking of how blessed I am to have such amazing, passionate people in my life. Had just enjoyed yet another painfully intimate conversation with a friend. Someone who has stood with me in front of something plumbing, electrical and/or explosive related. One of us says, "I'm scared." The other says, "Me, too." Then we grab a screwdriver and do it anyway.

And we have walked the exact same process in giant things in our lives. Crazy, big, daring, adventurous, terrifying, wonderful life stuff. We grab a screwdriver and do it anyway. Together.

You have to seek out passionate people. You have to dare to be vulnerable. You have to be willing to say, "I'm scared" or "I don't want to do this" or "I'm pissed off that anyone in the world is positive today."

“You are the average of the five people closest to you.”

~Jim Rohn

Chew on that today. Make changes as necessary.
Surround yourself with passionate people.



My base. My rock. My Miguel. He pushes me when I stall and he leaps with me when I'm already in the air, dragging him by the wrist.



My parents, who lived out passion in front of me, every single day of my childhood. They did not let society or the world dictate who they could help, how/when they could be educated or what "living out faith" would look like.



My Lush, who dared to move her family into a house on wheels.
And that was only the beginning.
My favorite lesbitarians, who dare to be a family in a state that says they're not.



My Billy, who continues to do his work in a way that others don't. He fought for it, worked outside the box (even if that meant working in the basement) and began all of this because what he was doing just wasn't enough.



My Brice, who will cross a scary line to move along in the adventure.
The line is a dot to him. Screw the line!
My Kev, who has always made his way. Whatever that means. Whatever that takes. Following his loves and passions and gifts.



My Tara, who has 429 kids (give or take a few) and lives in Haiti. Loves Haiti even when she loathes Haiti. Embraces the bad days, grieves, then uses her inner circles to catapult her back into her life of passion and service.


This photo represents every single parent of trauma I have in my life. Unbelievable inspiration. The fact that some of them get their pants on and remember to eat some days, is beyond belief. And they do. Over and over. And they dare share their lives with me. Who am I, to be so lucky?

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"Feeding L in the Ergo because sometimes that's what I have to do to get clothes folded, dinner cooked or even other babes bathed."

(photo by C. Hall - read their story)





**you can send your magical milk pic to christinemoers at hotmail dot com**

I'm heading back to SPACE in April

You remember that I droned on and on about the "Parenting in SPACE" conference last year. So, you can imagine how excited I am that registration has opened for 2012.

REALLY excited.

You can click on the badge above for more info.

Allow me to blather on and on a little more ...

This year I am going to hold a pre-conference. It won't be a day of teaching, but instead a very relaxed time of respite (no kids), brainstorming, crying, laughing, and whatever else it needs to be. Our conversations will be based on those that register, and there are limited spots (*hint, hint - get your rear in gear*). So, it will also stay very small.

REALLY excited.

There are some unique things about this particular conference that make it something I will continue to harass and annoy you with. It is for caregivers of trauma. It is not promoted to professionals. It's for us. It's full of US! You will leave with a network of support. Looking at the pictures on the registration page, I was taken aback by the following:



The three ladies surrounding me in this pic are now in-the-flesh friends, support and all people I now consider a part of my inner circle. Yet, that applies to a few dozen of the people who attended. We truly got to connect. And it was husbands, wives, immediate family. It was so diverse.

REALLY excited.

That leads me to the other thing I love. You can bring your partner, spouse, parents (your kids' grandparents who support you or need to learn more), grown children who help with the care of your children ... you name it. These were the types of people who attended. All of us muddling through and looking for more tools and encouragement to better help our kids.

The core principles taught are based on Dan Hughes' treatment and parenting model. You will be gently led to truly understand the trauma your child has experienced, you will be taught how to create an environment of healing and connection, and you will be loved, appreciated and encouraged when you realize this goes against "normal" parenting most of us have experienced and been exposed to.

When you leave, you'll have a phone and FaceBook Friends List full of people who will continue to support you, answer your questions, and remind you of the basic principles of connection you forget in the moment.

REALLY excited.

To top it off, early bird registration continues until December (there is a discount for couples). Considering the number of professionals involved, and the amount of personal attention your questions receive, the cost is phenomenally low! The Doubletree is offering their super low conference price again this year ($92/night - ch*CHING!). This conference is affordable, and you have eight months to plan and shop for cheap flights, arrange childcare, etc.

Not sure you can truly afford the expense? Why not do a family fundraiser ... or ask for help?

Eight months ... that's a lot of time to pull this sucker off!


*********

UPDATED - from Annie in the comments: "I'm signed up!!! Wouldn't miss it for the world. My husband is very shy and retiring, and that's him up there in that photo. He had a great time. He is also very conservative, but he thinks "the lady in dreds" rocks!

I just finished four days with Dan Hughes; it was phenomenal (though I feel very humble and dull-of-brain, not able to take it all in). The great thing about SPACE, in comparison, is that you DO end up with a host of new supportive friends, real-life anecdotes (that always teach me more than theories), and an enormous BREAK!

I about broke my keyboard signing up; I was SO afraid I'd miss the "pre-conference" limited-enrollment time with you! Whew! I made it!"




(photo by House Calls Counseling)

Don't cry

Source: None via Christine on Pinterest

Live High

"Reacting to someone's bad behavior, fear, insecurity or projection by matching it, retaliations, or defense leaves us doubly wounded. Live high." - Jeffrey Sumber

Something you might not know about me

Since high school, I have been a registered organ donor. When I die, I hope to be spread from here to kingdom come, giving life, health, sight and wellness to many.

Since 1995, I have been on the bone marrow donor registry. In all that time, I have only been called once as a possible match. I went in for another round of blood work, per the registry's request. I was not close enough to what they needed. That was that. This was about eight years ago.

I will admit that the thought of actually being a match for someone makes me nervous. It's not like donating blood. There are plenty of shots and needles involved. Lots of hours to prepare before the procedure. Some minimal recovery time after. You may or may not have contact with the person you help. You may never get called. You may receive a call quickly.

Yet, through all of that nervousness, all I keep thinking is, "What if my child or my husband needed marrow? What if their life depended on it? Would we accept a donation from a perfect stranger?"

You bet we would. We would be so utterly grateful. If we are willing to accept it, then we should be willing to donate if we qualify.

If you've never considered it, please just think about it. Learn about it. If you have signed up previously, make sure you information is up to date. There is a massive need for those with diverse racial and ethnic heritage, as you are most likely to match with someone of your same race or ethnicity. Currently there are far too many people waiting who are African American, American Indian, Alaska Native, Asian, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander, Hispanic, Latino and those of mixed races and ethnicity.

It's the weekend. Ponder it. The link will still be here when you get back on Monday.

Dude, you could help somebody ... ya' know ... NOT DIE.

Not to mention, it will make you a bone marrow slut, like me. We'll give it out to ANYBODY!

If you're gonna' die anyway

We have a mouse in the double wide.

We cannot find our no-kill traps, and there were none in town last night. Until we do, we have the springy smash-em-dead traps. Of course, our mouse is a lightweight and simply nibbled off the bait without setting off the springy thing.

Yeah.

Now, I realize I sound like a major animal lover, simply because I OWN no-kill traps. But let's be honest. If we catch this guy in the no-kill, we're going to walk outside and release him to a swarm of very excited barn cats.

Only we don't have a barn. Shed cats? But they don't live under the shed. They live under our double wide (which is jacked up on blocks above flood level - it's like a cat palace under there).

Okay, so the double wide cats are amazing mousers. They are gonna' be THRILLED to have a snack basically handed to them. And those farts are mean teases.

Have you ever watched a cat catch a mouse? Give me a springy smashy trap any day if I have to choose my death. They like to turn their hunts into pre-dinner entertainment. It's "The Hunger Games" on crack laced with meth.

Which raises the question: do they even lace crack with meth?

So, either I am more humane by making it quick ... or the mouse was made to entertain its predator, and I should let it fulfill its purpose in life.

And it's really cute that I'm acting like I care either way. I'm making Michael deal with it.






(Above photo is not of a double wide cat. This, is Milkshake (a.k.a. Big Fatty). He naps and eats. He, apparently, has been staring at a mouse for what we're starting to think has been WEEKS while it coexists with us inside. My indoor cats are worthless. They know it, and they're pretty much okay with it. Lap of luxury, I say.)

The Hunger Games in my home

My oldest children have a lot of self-education freedom, particularly when it comes to what they read. All four of them devoured "The Hunger Games" trilogy this spring/summer. They loved it. The girls were the first to tear through it, and then annoyed the boys until they finally caved.

I had downloaded Overdrive for my phone, and was sorely disappointed with my available choices for free downloads via my library. I did go ahead and reserve a few, which had very long waits. One, being "The Hunger Games." I had succumbed to the same fate as the boys. If I didn't read or listen to it soon, their berating was going to make me stark raving mad.

It became available this past week. We had a road trip to make and I was able to listen to the entire book in one weekend. I loved it.

And then, I sat in amazement. You see, it deals with some very (VERY) harsh themes:

utterly inhumane choices

survival and risk

starvation

control of an entire population

corporal punishment

restriction of resources and information

fear and mistrust

privilege and power

dehumanization

And I could go on! What has truly blown me away is that I cannot tell you when each child finished reading. These are all themes that trigger the pain in the history of my children, and I had no indication that they were even exposed to them.

They worked through this stuff completely on their own. They did it in a healthy way. I'm guessing this was CRAZY difficult for them, but they did it! They absorbed the difficulty and moved forward. They allowed themselves the entertainment and did not let the triggers take that away from them.

I'm sure they were a bit more crabby or sensitive on certain days. I was, too! You can't read some of this stuff without feeling it and internalizing it. It comes out at least SOME, with all of us. They felt it and absorbed it ... normally.

Reading is such a good, safe "practice ground" for the inevitability of life. I love that they can choose to expose themselves to the harsh realities (which reflects their own history), while still in the safety net of the present. They can think through scenarios and make decisions now, before they are facing life as an adult.

They're healing, dang it!

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(photo by David, used with permission)




**send your magical milk pics to christinemoers at hotmail dot com**

September Hoop Challenge

I have had several people say they wish they had done the July Hoop Challenge. And while you can do your own challenge, anytime you want, I understand the importance of doing something like this with another person. Well, have I got news for you!

Yesterday, at Hoop Church, Michelle mentioned she is going to put out another challenge for the month of September. Because there is a handful of you that want to try this, I'm gonna' jump back in and lead the way!

So, if you have been thinking about it but simply needed some motivation, get your hoop made, start warming up those hips, and mark your calendar for September. Thirty minutes of hooping for 30 days!

I guarantee you, at the end of it, you will be more confident, more limber, and WAY less sucky at hula hooping. If you do not find all those things to be true, I will give you back every dime you have paid me. heh. heh.

It's a brand new day

This cycle never ends
You gotta' fall in order to mend

Be done with it

Source: imgfave.com via Christine on Pinterest

Choosing sides

I would like you to join the conversation, but first let me challenge you in your response:

* Note the word "immediately." Think on that for a minute.

* See if you can dialogue without saying, "Yeah, but ..."

* Only think about yourself. I get it. You're already thinking of a handful of people who do this, have done this or are currently doing this. This is about self-reflection.

* In only thinking about yourself, own it. Admit it out loud.

To help you be a little more brave in your vulnerability, let me quote what one friend shared in her response: "Certain issues will trigger more extreme reactions in me--usually an issue that I am uncomfortable with on a personal level & don't want to address!"

"Without vulnerability, there is no connection." - Scott Dinsmore

The medicine of music

Source: elephantjournal.com via Denise on Pinterest

"Music has been shown to lower blood pressure, basal metabolism and respiration rates. Music increases the production of endorphins in the brain. Endorphins help to promote pleasure, reduce pain, speed healing, reduce infection, and control heart rate." - The Heavenly Harpist

If you think about it, your playlist is a pharmacy.

Reality bites

For the past two weeks, my body has forced me to slow down and really take care of myself. Extra care. Regardless of my overall health, I have to face the fact that my shell is 39 years old. Sometimes there's not as much give. Not as much leeway.

I spent two days, basically, in bed. I cannot remember the last time I did something like that. I had to keep refocusing. I would get stir crazy, but I knew I wasn't recovered enough to move at my typical pace. In those moments, I had to focus on what I did have in front of me. What I might otherwise be missing out on.

I received a letter from my friend in prison. Their unit is on lockdown the month of August. That means they are confined to their cells, almost exclusively. It is in triple digits in our area right now. There is no air conditioning there, and they are on full lockdown. For a month.

A month.

And his thoughts on this? "It's a great time for prayer, meditation and reading."

How do you spell p-e-r-s-p-e-c-t-i-v-e?

I spent a full weekend focusing on my health, my immune system and my emotional well-being. I can't say I loved every second of it. I cried a lot. In my worst moments I was pretty stinkin' crazy. There were bouts where I just wanted to make it all stop and go away. I mean ... rest is one thing, but then there is that breaking point where you're pretty sure you're going to start mumbling to yourself and building sculptures out of dust bunnies.

There was a process to improvement. I had to take each and every step to get there. I could whine my way into oblivion, or I could keep moving my energy back toward healing and health.

I'm still not 100% physically recovered, but I'm the closest I have been for awhile. Emotionally and mentally? I'm at 300%. I had a little love affair with my body during this. I celebrated my age. I thanked my wrinkles and my worn, weathered flesh. I found pleasure in knowing myself so well that I could hear when it was time to slow down.

Finally, last night, I read this:

"Rest is more important than you think. People work too hard, forget to rest, and then begin to hate their jobs. In fitness, you see it constantly: people training for a marathon getting burned out because they don’t know how to let their straining muscles and joints recover. People who try to do too much because they don’t know that rest is where their body gets stronger, after the stress." - ZenHabits

Then I took some more Vitamin C and smiled.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"Above image scanned from an original ca.1899-1900 photograph taken by an American photographer during the American invasion and occupation of the Philippines. After America defeated the Spanish interests in the Philippines, many Filipino died trying to stop the imperialist take-over of their country by American Military, hoping to prevent the forced annexation of the Philippines to America. America at that time was anti-democracy, and anti-independence.....especially for any other island, country, or nation except itself. How quickly Americans forget such episodes of their own history."

(photo by Okinawa Soba, used with permission)





*you may submit your own Magical Milk Pic to christinemoers at hotmail dot com*

Chopsticks: an object lesson

I started making myself use chopsticks. Like, MADE myself. I watched YouTube videos to help me suck at it less. When they were an option at a restaurant, I put my fork as far away from me as possible.

The thought process began, "I don't know how to use chopsticks. I would like to. I like to always learn new things."

The experience has been so much more than that.

I know, I know: chopsticks. Really? Christine is such a freak that she will talk about two wooden sticks as though they are some universal life lesson?

Maybe. It's nothing earth shattering, but has been significant enough that I bought my own set of chopsticks for home. Here goes ...

Chopsticks make you slow down.

When learning to use chopsticks, I was able to get approximately two grains of rice in my mouth for every fifth attempt at a mouthful. It was comical. I have always been a shoveler when I eat. I overstuff my fork/spoon/mouth. I inhale only, because actual breathing can wait til after your plate is clean. It's a mere inconvenience.

Chopsticks create more portion control (unless your sushi roll bite is monstrous, but for the sake of this object lesson, let's not go there). They force you to be a bit more meticulous. Even when your ability improves, it will never match the ease and quantitative properties inherent to regular silverware. With chopsticks, food tastes better and the experience lasts longer.

I need a set of parenting chopsticks for those days when I want to wish my kids away to an older age or newer stage of development.

I need a set of weekday chopsticks for the times I'm wanting to skip past Wednesday and Thursday because something special and fun is happening on Friday.

I need a set of relational chopsticks for moments when I'm not stopping and making a slow connection with a person.

Just like when you slow down in life ... when you slow down with chopsticks, you break down the bigger picture into smaller, more meaningful portions. The experiences taste better because you take time to actually taste them.

You're also a lot less gassy.