show your Self some love

It has struck me within the last year how infrequently we offer ourselves love.  I say "we" referring broadly to all humans, but really specifically, at least for today, I am speaking about mothers.  In my experience it is often easier to give love to those outside ourselves than to really spend time loving our Selves.  And then of course we hold others responsible for loving us, or even believe we aren't worthy. There is a whole slew of antics we can play with ourselves rather than acknowledging our own power to be who we want to be; our own responsibility for loving our Selves.

We are all served by cultivating our own Self-love, and a mother focused on this has all the more to give to her child. What does it mean to really Love one's Self?  It can look like a massage, a walk alone in the woods, or eating healthy food.  These are great ways to honor and treat yourself.  But, what I'm talking about runs deeper than that, to a belief that we are capable, that we are valuable, that we are beings powerful and beautiful beyond measure.  This kind of Love gives fruit to empowerment.  I even see Self-Love as the bedrock of empowerment.

Love and empowerment go hand in hand through pregnancy, being pivotal components of a satisfying birth experience.  An empowered woman trusts that her body and baby know how to birth, she is confident in her ability, honors her instincts, and takes responsibility for decision making.  An empowered woman focused on loving her Self is able to release judgment and fear.

One way to practice empowerment-building Self-love is through using affirmations.  An affirmation reinforces belief in one's Self.  I encourage Mamas to find the affirmation that really speaks to & feels natural for them, some examples being:  "I am made to do this",  "I am strong", "I am supported by all mothers that have birthed before me and that birth after me", "I am perfect as I am", "I have everything I need", "Love flows continuously through me".  Believe these affirmations!  (And if you don't believe it, try another one that feels better).  Through regular use, affirmations strengthen a woman's sense of center.  It is wise to use affirmation throughout pregnancy.  Then, your specific affirmation can serve as a reminder of your center during labor.

We can only truly love what we truly know, right?  Pregnancy is an invitation to get to know the depths of your Self.  I tell my yoga students all the time: "Listen to your baby; Listen to your inner wisdom".  It is amazing what we can learn about our strengths, our needs, and our babies just by sitting still and listening.  And the more a woman knows her Self, the more able she is to tap into the well of inner strength.  I have seen women using this in labor and birth when a decision needs to be made.  They pause, listen to their inner-knowing and then are able to make a change if necessary.

Sometimes, when we are still and listening, we see gaps in our knowledge.  For first time parents, pregnancy, birth and a newborn are all uncharted territory, with lots of questions and decisions to be made.  An empowered parent knows and values the responsibility of decision making, not wanting to simply hand over this power to a Doctor or Midwife who "knows more".  When listening to our intuition doesn't proved a clear answer, this is an opportunity to use research as a means of Self love.  The research about where you give birth, standard new born procedures, ways to encourage nursing or anything at all really is a form of Self-love because you are discovering what you really want, and feeling the strength of making your own choice.  When I was pregnant with Sly I was initially overwhelmed by all the decisions to make and wanted to be as informed as I could.  Even if my intuition felt strongly about something, like not getting him circumcised for example, I still did my research to be well informed on all sides of the issue.  It began to feel fun and assuring to uncover all the information, and of course it was empowering to know I was informed enough to decide what was best for our family.

Certainly our pregnancies, births, and children do not always fit our desires and expectations.  Part of the beauty in a deep-seated love for Self is the ability to release fear.  The longer I am a student of life, the more I see that Love and Fear cannot exist simultaneously.  When we are truly engaged in Love for ourselves, and Love for our babies as well, we can release fears completely, trusting that we have done our absolute best.  I know Mamas that have not had the birth outcomes they hoped for, yet they felt empowered and satisfied none the less.  I've witnessed these same Mamas pause to listen to their center, commit themselves to Self love, research what they didn't know, and make affirmations of their strength and ability.  An empowered, Self-loving, inquisitive Mama is a jewel, and a possibility for all Mamas out there.  Show your Self some love.  You deserve it.

looking here

So often these days I catch myself looking forward, anticipating the joy to come as my family grows.  I look forward to holidays with kids old enough to make crafts, and I imagine the adventures of Sly and his possible siblings.  I think of the things Papa Bear and I will teach Sly, and the ways we will play.  While this is all exciting, I am feeling a need to remind myself to look here.  Look right here, this moment, these days, right now.

It's not that I think happiness exists in the moments to come; I know so well that happiness exists in the present.

Humans have the gift and challenge of reflection and anticipation.  We can look back on and look forward to.  Many times in my life I've gotten lost in either of these.  Then, I remember, I feel my feet on the ground, and I slip back to the present.  


Right here, this is what I see, what I love, what I oughta be savoring, because I must (I must!) believe all the Mamas when they say it goes by so fast:

--a baby boy working so hard just to sit up on his own.  Working every muscle of his body.  And being purely delighted by his work.

--naps.  They are few in comparison to those newborn-days, but they still happen multiple times a day, everyday.  And in those naps, this Mama breathes enjoys her own desires.
--a floor baby, content to cruise around on his tummy much of the time.  He's working on crawling, but far from mastery, so I don't have to worry yet about what-in-the-world Sly's gotten in to.  When he's not "working" on the floor, Sly loves to be --
--a ride-along baby.  The ergo is an almost constant piece of my wardrobe.  Sly loves to be close to Mama or Papa.  He loves to see whatever it is we are doing.  And he loves to be within hair-pulling distance.
--an excuse to buy nothing for my child this Christmas.  This is an area where I do a lot of looking forward - looking forward to the creating, the giving, the surprise and joy.  Yet, right now, Sly won't know the difference.  And most importantly, I know that for right now, being near Mama is the most important thing to him.  It is a wonderful time where I can actually be the gift.  I get to save energy by not making or buying anything, and put that energy into loving my boy as much as possible.
--nursing my nursling.  I am endlessly amazed at how this baby grows from my milk.  He pulls and gets distracted, he's started showing interest in foods, but nothing trumps the breastfeeding yet.  When he settles in and gazes up at me, intent and content, I am overwhelmed with love.
--lots of time indoors at home.  I don't know that I've had so much time at home since I was a baby myself.  This is the time to dream, the time to sit, the time to do nothing except take care of my baby all day and know that that is okay.
--the joy of just one.  Much of my looking forward has to do with more children in our home.  While I do want more babies, right now I have just one.  This means, when that one is napping the house is truly quiet.  Or if that one is needing me, I am not being pulled by another.  I can strap on my one, and walk two dogs.  I can pass off my one to Papa when I need a moment alone.  Best of all, I can savor and really get to watch my one son grow, as he is doing so rapidly.

Reminding myself to relinquish some of that looking forward, and instead, look here.  Right here is where I am.  Right here is a sleeping boy, two resting dogs, and a cup of tea amidst a messy kitchen. Right here is a full moment, a deep breathe, space to think and do.  I'm taking a lesson from the dogs, and my baby boy on presence.  Thanks, family.

thanks giving: the gift of staying home

I believe that when have thankful hearts, we find contentment.  
I believe that intentions grow best in a soil of gratitude.  
I believe that giving thanks if one of the best gifts we've got to give.  
I believe that being grateful for any small joy is the quickest cure for a crummy mood.

So, for a week I'll use this space to give thanks for all the many blessings in my life, small and large.  Please join me if you, too, want to spend a week in gratitude.

Being a, mostly, stay at home mama tops my thankful list these days.  It is a gift that I was not expecting, nor did I ever think I would appreciate so much.  For the first 6 months of my pregnancy with Sly, I thought for sure I'd be paying a babysitter so that I could work.  I thought, I'd have to work.  Then as the birth came nearer, I knew that I did not want to leave my child with anyone other than Papa Bear.  I didn't want anyone taking care of Sly that did not love him as much as Papa Bear or I do.  Once he was born it was clear:  I'd be at home with him as long as I could.   A large pay cut taken for a more difficult job, but my reward is great joy, less worry, and the ability to be consistent with my child.  


A part of my gratitude for this gift to stay at home means I have MAJOR respect for Mama's that truly do have to work.  I know some Mama's want to work, and enjoy the balance of life away from their baby for a bit each day.  But, I believe many of us Mama's really want to be at home with our kids.  And because I have the gift, I honor those who don't have it even more.  


My thankfulness would be incomplete with out raising a grateful hand to my ancestors that planned ahead for their grandchildren and children.  The angels are watching over us, (and you too!) and prayers are being answered.  I will never forget the words shared from the heart of a friend just before Sly was born: "Ask for what you really want", she said.  And I do.  And I will.  And it is heard by the universe, then received by me with the deepest gratitude.


So, I have the joy of staying home with my kid!  I don't have to pump more than one day a week and can nurse on demand, I get to see even the tinsiest ways that Sly develops each day, I get to take care of my home and cook nutritious meals for the whole family.  I never valued this job, a homemaker, before.  My old self thought stay at home moms to be lazy or frivolous.  My own mom had to work, and when she wasn't at work, she was still trying to do all the things that I am doing through out my day (the "second shift" of many mothers).  And our society just doesn't value the work of moms as moms.  My mind has changed, though.  This is quite possibly the most important job, to raise a child and create a home, a ground for the family to thrive and become.  Truly nourishing the individual serves the whole of society. 


I see this opportunity of a homemaker and mother as a gift, multifaceted and colorful as it is.  I could list the whole slew of emotions that these jobs pull up in my heart, but mostly I am utterly thankful.  

yarn & books (& repeat)

Two great things that have come from spending lots of time sitting on my butt and nursing are a reintroduction to knitting and reading for fun.  Pure fun, people.  I have spent most of my book-time in the last 6 years reading for learning.  Which is great, and I still do lots of that.  But, boy oh boy have I enjoyed the novels, the memoirs, the research just for the heck of it that I've allowed myself to do in the past 5 months.  

The knitting is of a more practical nature.  My initial thought was wool hats for the whole family (minus Stevie :) ) by winter time.  So, I started with the Sly baby, working on the Umbilical Cord Hat from Stitch'N'Bitch.  I made it once ... too small.  Passed it on to a newly born baby girl.  Changed up the pattern to fit my boys big noggin, and right as I came to attaching the I-cord, or "umbilical cord"tassle, I popped it on his head to see how it looks, and well, I just don't like it.  Even with the increase to the pattern, it still doesn't cover his ears and it slides up after wearing it a while.  I should have gone even bigger but ... I didn't.  I've decided I'm just going to unravel it and put the whole hat on hold for now.  He's got a precious Peruvian chucho which works great anyways.  Moving on, I cast on last night for a bright purple soaker instead.  Papa Bear wasn't thrilled with the purple yarn for his little boy, but I think he's gonna look like a rock star with this on, some shooting star legwarmers, and that awesome dinosaur hat of his!

Back to the books:  I flew through Inconsolable, as you may know from my last post.  When I started reading this book, Papa Bear referred to it as my "depressing book".  The premise is after all a woman's tale of suffering with Postpartum Depression and a colicky, refluxy baby.  But I'm telling you this book is hilarious at times.  And more importantly, it is real.  Allow me to offer just one more passage from it (I know I offered a few in the last post) about the pitfalls of one's expectations for motherhood:

Maybe I was stuck in some kind of hipness trap (which is funny, because I'm about as hip as a Kansas city reference librarian), that there are other kinds of pitfalls.  My body will go back exactly the way it was.  Of course we'll still have sex when we're parents!  My kid will not wear something like that.I'm not going to carry a bag with bunnies on it, unless a bunny is the new Gucci logo.  I'm still going out to shows.  We are not watching Barney in this house.  

But the truth is you will become the parent you are, and who knows what that is?  Perhaps you will do inconceivably dorky things.  Perhaps you will begin wearing puce polyvinyl pants instead of tasteful seperates from Petite Sophisticate because they are more vomit-repellant.  Perhaps you will out grow your DIY Tank Girl tee shirts when you milk comes in, and you will wear periwinkle cotton nursing sweaters because your next-door neighbor gives them to you and they're comfortable and free of charge.  Perhaps you will set aside your cherished avocations (transexual fetish photography, herotica, competitive checkers); perhaps you will discover new ones.  Perhaps you will become a single parent if you are partnered; perhaps you will become partnered, suburban and domestic after all if you are single.  Perhaps your great-aunt will break her hip and come live with you, displacing your life partner's klezmer bandmates who've been crashing in your guest room, and you will turn around twice and find yourself the very model of unpaid domestic caregiving, and you will scream and cry and go to bed at seven every night from sheer exhaustion.

Who gives a fuck?  You'll do what you can.  

As I totally recommend this book, I should also share Ingman's own advice that this is not a book for pregnant first-time-moms with no history of depression or mental illness (read it after baby arrives), and also not for those bothered by the occasional drop of the F-bomb.  I really liked it though, and think it a wise read for any mother-baby care provider (or wannabes, like myself) and I can only imagine that it would have struck me as even more poignant if I had suffered with PPD.

I have now started reading Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert and am lovin' it so far.  I put this book off for a while after all the hype of Eat, Pray, Love becoming a movie and staring Julie Roberts, and during that time I forgot how much Elizabeth Gilbert's own voice resonates with my heart.  I, too, am a skeptic of the institution of marriage ("Marriage is a friendship recognized by the police" says Robert Louis Stevenson), but I am a huge fan of intimate, romantic, life long partnership.  This book is Gilbert's exploration of matrimony as she prepares for her own, government forced, marriage.  

I'm linking up, a little late, with Ginny at Small Things for Yarn Along.  If you want some knitting inspiration, check out all the other lovely folks sharing their hand knits on her page today!

cleaning out my Thought Closet

I like to believe I am 100% open hearted.  That I can understand other's circumstances, no matter how different from my own.  I sometimes even trick myself into thinking I am free from judgement.  Then, I step back and watch my thoughts, and I know that I am judgemental.  Phew.  It is hard to admit this.  It is hard to post this when so new to the blogging world.  What will you think?  Will you high tail it out of here and never return?

But, It is true!  I hold judgements on others that I am so very far from proud of.  I make broad-sweeping statements, with the best of intentions about what is best and what everyone should or shouldn't do.    The ones I find in myself that disgust me most are those about parenting styles.  Thankfully, I am being reminded that, Mama, you are not your parenting style!  You are You.  I am Me.  We don't have to do the same things.  We don't hold the same standards for ourselves.  And we certainly do not have to be perfect.


How do I get off thinking that I must be "Perfect Mom"?  You know, expecting my self to cloth diaper, stay at home with my kid, eat only organic food, hand-make my baby's clothes, never have the baby in front of the TV, not use antibiotics, birth without medication, nurse on demand (and be the human pacifier), co sleep until my baby is ready for their own bed, oh and keep my house perfectly clean.  With a smile on my face.  And, really, the problem pops up greater in my expectation of others to do the same.  My silly idea that this is the only way to parent.  Sure, for me lots of those expectations can be met, because they are ideals for myself and they work in our family.  But to feel saddened at the sight of a baby with a paci stuck in his mouth?  Disturbed when a mom shares her excitement of preparing a nursery?  I am finding that not only is it inappropriate for me to make these judgements on others, but I am carrying around this baggage that everyone expects me to follow all these rules too.  Because truthfully I'd love it if my baby sucked on a paci nowadays.  And then I think, really, where did this idea of "Perfect Mom" come from?  It surely can not be solely self-imposed.

I just finished Inconsolable, by Marrit Ingman, and boy did she rip me a new one about parental judgements.  This was something I had been overlooking, that here we are as moms trying to do it all, and likely feeling inadequate.  Trying to truly keep up appearances of ourselves and our families, when there are those days, frequently for me, where I am lucky to get out of my pajamas (which are half-made of what I wore yesterday).  Seriously, I take a shower twice a week at best right now.  I may be judged by others for letting the baby take over my life, while I am judging myself for not being able to do it all, and all the while I am also thinking I am better than those who put down their crying baby so that they can enjoy 10 minutes in hot water alone.  I must ask myself, umm, who's giving us report cards?

Ingman writes:

We (are) afraid of being judged.  There's that word again.  Judgement is a leitmotif of motherhood- along with guilt.  Neither feeling is constructive; neither comforts your child or fills you with energy or feeds people.  You will feel judged regardless of you particular choices.  If you have a hospital birth with a physician, you will be judged as retrograde and out of touch with your body.  If you are having a home birth with a midwife, you will be judged as insane and a threat to your baby.  I watched a mother of two -a student midwife-collapse into tears of gratitude when she was finally able to confess that she had her son circumcised because penile cancer runs in her family; in fact, she'd recently watcher her father die from it.  I've seen women who refused circumcision branded as controlling bitches putting their children at risk for the sake of their politics.  Get the eye ointment and be judged; refuse it and be judged; don't vaccinate and be judged.

And this is what makes us crazy...the feeling that we have failed in spite of ourselves

No one is giving me a report card, regardless of my need for a pat on the back.  And I am not here to give anyone else a report card, any more than my baby is here to please me.  I can keep on idealizing a hippie version of Susie homemaker all I want, but no one is going to grade me on how close I come to this goal.  I can strive to do it all.  I just gotta not beat myself up when I don't.  I must remember that I am me.  That  motherhood is a brilliant part of me, but not all of me.  And, most of all, I have to let go of the idea that others should ascribe to the same standards I hold.  Another snippet from Ingman's book:

It's not wrong to have ambitions, to dream of home-sewn Halloween costumes, (or ones we just "whip up" because we're so crafty), and slow food and perfect portraits and cooperative preschool.  But we have to remember that our standards of success, of happiness, of demonstrating our love for our children are inflated.  We'll never meet them.  Our reach will always exceed our grasp.  Some days it is perfectly legitimate to feel proud that everyone is simply still alive.

I have to take a moment here and thank all of my friends for parenting differently than me. My parents and in-laws, too.  But, mostly, those friends of mine that I think I can pigeon hole into the same-type-of-mom group, and then they totally surprise me with some of their choices.  They blast the natural-attachment-parenting mom label to smithereens.  Maybe they give their baby pacies and love it, they use disposables, their kid hangs out in its car seat,  they vaccinate, or they make confident, clear minded choices to have a cesarean birth.  All these things can be a part of raising a natural, healthy, attached child.  Because of my own judgements, I would have previously thought "No!  Not possible!  We can't put our babies down in their car seat with plastic toys!" .... but we can if it works for us.  I love you, mama friends, for blowing these parenting labels out of the water.  Thank you, for helping me reconsider my biases and judgements.  

I'm airing the skeletons in my Thought Closet, people.  Filtering through what fits, and what has got to go.  This is an ongoing process of course.  I hope I am not over-sharing, I'm just trying to keep it real.

I've been stewing this post in my head for weeks now, afraid to share these judgements and better-than and not-good-enough thoughts I have held.  I did not even know that I believed some of these things until I was a parent, and started seeing others parent differently.  In the meantime, through internet conversations and searches, I have found other mamas speaking to a similar tune.  I am thankful to the inspiration and courage to write this, that has been influenced by Inconsolable,  these thoughts from SortaCrunchy,  and an article I read this summer in Natural Family magazine by this woman.  Again, so many big thanks to my friends and family for helping me see my judgements, blast open labels, and be a kinder, gentler, human being.  You are teaching me, wether you know it or not.

Attaching Naturally

I'm going to talk about things that Dr. Sears suggests never bringing up to people outside of your family....

Today, my check-out-girl at the grocery store asked sweetly, "Are you practicing Attachment Parenting?".  "Something like that" I replied, smiling.

"Attachment Parenting".  Yes, it is in so many ways how we are raising Sly.  I've read many books about.  It is what we do.  But that term, something about it makes me uncomfortable.  It's actually not the term itself, but the act of labeling something that I see as simply the way we parent.  The aspects of "Attachment Parenting" to me feel just like natural parenting, going with our internal, maternal, paternal instincts.  Some of it even feels like lazy parenting, and yes, I like to be lazy where I can be.

From day 1 I felt like the most normal thing for me to do was hold my baby as much as possible.  He had grown inside me for 9 months.  It was strange for me to not be close to him. And not even just close proximity, but skin to skin.  To help matters, I don't think I wore a shirt for the first week of his life.  Hey, I had just birthed a baby.  It was late May.  The last thing I was thinking about was putting clothes on.  So naturally, with out effort, there was lots of skin to skin time in the very beginning.

Sly sleeps in our bed.  We are not afraid of rolling on him.  We are not afraid that he won't be able to sleep on his own when the time is right for him to do that.  We have an Arms Reach Cosleeper, but this serves as a space for him to lay when Papa Bear or I are not in the bed as well (and, ahem, as my oversized nightstand).  I thought we would really, really use and need the Cosleeper.  I believe that we will use it more as Sly grows.  For now though, it is easiest for all of us if he is in the bed.  I couldn't imagine in those first few weeks him sleeping anywhere but right next to me.  I slept sitting up in bed because I hadn't quite figured out how to sleep with a baby.  Now, it is so natural.  Humans are the only mammals that attempt to sleep separately from our babies.  In our family bed, Sly gets lots of snuggle time with Papa Bear who is away at work all day.  And, most importantly perhaps, this Mama doesn't have to get out of bed in the middle of the night to nurse.  See, lazy parenting.  I want to stay in bed.  Neither of us has to fully wake up in order to feed at night.  No middle of the night crying. No worrying about him waking up or not breathing because I am right there beside him to check.  Lazy parenting? Perhaps.  Also, comfy, safe, natural parenting.

Babywearing.  I knew I wanted to do this early on because I always thought it looked so cool when I saw mamas toting their babes in a sling, big and small.  I have since learned that being a mama has absolutely nothing to do with looking cool.  Major misconception here on my part.  Being a mama does have lots to do with doing what is right for you and your babe, what is necessary in the moment, and sometimes looking down right silly because of it.  My boy loves being held.  Loves it!  And I love holding him.  But there are other things to be done in the day (I wasn't sure of this in those first few weeks), and wearing him allows me to do more.  To multi-task.  He gets to be right on me while I clean, shop, cook, and walk the dog.  It lets him sleep right by my heart for his naps.  Human babies are born under-developed, because their heads can't get much bigger and still be able to come through the birth canal.  Wearing a baby is a way to extend the womb, so they have the comforts of being close to mama (or papa, or grandma, or auntie) as their brains and heads grow.
Babywearing serves other very practical purposes: it is a way that I keep strange, though well intentioned, hands off my babies face at the store.  Sly is up by my face when we walk downtown instead of down at the level of hands holding cigarrettes.  I provide a steady sense of "home", because "home" is mama's chest.  There are even studies reporting that babies who are held/worn frequently develop great language skills because they spend so much time near other's faces.
Lots of great reasons to babywear, though the most important for us is that it is natural, and it just feels right.  I have no qualms with strollers.  No feelings like this. I would like to have one in the future.  But right now, a stroller just seems like one more piece of gear to take up space that we would rarely use.  Our wraps, slings and carriers take up very little space.  They are easy for us and Sly.

And finally, my breasts are able to fulfill their highest purpose.  Through my baby, I've become a milk machine.  It is my superpower, as one friend puts it.  Breastfeeding, quite literally, attaches Sly to me.  My body makes milk that is the perfect temperature, the perfect balance of nutrition for my boy, tuning in to exactly what he needs morning and night (because a body needs different things at different times of day!).  Fascinating, this process of nursing.  The epitome of natural food.  It transports well, as I wrote about before.  It heals wounds, people! (squirt it on your little ones diaper rash, step back and be amazed.)  It is free and requires absolutely no preparation, besides the old lifting of the shirt.  Again, lazy parenting.  Incredibly beneficial to Sly's body and mind, no doubt.  But easy-peasy, because wether you nurse or not, a few days after birth that milk's comin' in.  We have to try to stop it, and the friends I know that have done this say it is a painful task to dry up milk.  I'm not ready for that kind of pain.  Instead I'll have my baby nurse and release that juicy, oh so good, oxytocin again.  Why not?

We do follow many tenants of Attachment Parenting.  And boy am I thankful that there are books out there written about all the many styles of parenting.  Every set of parents could probably write their own book.  When I read Dr. Sears books about AP I am mostly in complete agreement with him.  Though, I mother the way I mother because it is what my heart says is right.  And this is way more valuable to me than what any outside expert may say.  Attachment Parenting?  Count me in.  It works for us.  It feels natural and instinctive.  I know that it may not feel that way for others.  So I say, the real style of parenting that is best, is the style where you follow your own heart.  As parents we are asked to listen to our hearts and trust our instincts more than ever before.  We have to do what works for us even if it goes against the grain of those around us.  Natural, personalized, heart-led parenting?  That's what I'm really all about.

Work in Progress

I was going to write a post and show you my works-in-progress, knitting and reading wise.  Then I thought to myself, "Well, my whole life is a work in progress!  How can I take a picture of all that?"  I just don't think all of my works in progress can be captured by a photo.  Or even with words.  There's just so much I'm working on doing and being.  So many projects I've started already, at least in my head if not in action.  Yet when I reflect back at the end of the day, sometimes all I have "done" is held, nursed and played with Sly.  Maybe a load of laundry.  Probably a meal or two.  Possibly some asana and reading.  Hopefully a walk outside. This path of parenthood is really one of the greatest practices in patience.  It's a much needed practice for my life.  I have a tendency to get lost in goals and sometimes struggle to reign myself back in and say "Not now, Lis.  You have plenty of time in your life to become, do, create ______ (unleash a whole chain of desires here)."

My heart desires to start a garden, become a Certified Anusara Yoga teacher, develop sewing skills, begin the journey on the midwives path, Oh and be a really great, aware mama that gets to spend lots of time at home, too.  This is just the cream of the list.  But right now it is absolutely imperative that I spend this time, this precious new-born-baby-first-time-mom time just sitting. listening. wanting. processing. deciding...

Because ultimately, the goal is to be my self and shine my inner light.  Shining my light. aligning with the Divine doesn't have to mean accomplishing 100 things a day.  Being present with my child is a great accomplishment.  My Self is ever evolving, (as is yours, my friend).  I set intentions each day, each week, each month, and the surrender them to the ocean of life.   While working towards goals is important and necessary, the simmering in the present, the releasing of to-dos is really just as necessary.   In this sense, I hope that I am always a "work in progress".

So Now, I join in with Ginny of Small Things for the "Yarn Along".  A dear friend has offered me her stash of wool yarn to make hats for my family this fall.  This beautiful blue is for my baby boy, and I better knit quickly because his head is growing so fast!  Already 17 inches!  Along with the yarn, I am reading You are Your Childs First Teacher and How to Know Higher Worlds.  Both are borrowed from a friend, and are about Waldorf education/the philosophies of Rudolf Steiner.  I am loving my introduction to Waldorf, it feels very natural and common sense to me, and I am so excited to learn more.  

For more yarn and reading inspiration, be sure to visit Small Things (link above) and take the tour of all those participating in this weeks Yarn Along.

Also, blessed International Day of Peace to you all.  How's that for a work in progress?!  Let's work together and love together, because wether we like it or not, we live together.  Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu 

Coca tea, reminiscent of the peace I found one year ago,  in Sacred Valley of Peru

Everything is Yoga

This is a post for yoga-junkies.

Everything is Yoga.  The more I live, since I've stepped into this practice, the more this is true.  Yoga is everywhere, in everything.  It resides in all emotions, in each moment, in each particle of my being.  There it is: an opportunity to live with greater intention, deeper awareness, to uncover pure desire.  Everything alive is binding, yoking, to Life itself.  And we can say that Life itself, is the Divine itself.  Oh Yeah.  I'll yoke to that.


This is a radical view, that everything is Yoga.  Everything?  No way!  Oh, YES way, I say.  To cry, to laugh, to feel boredom, anger, overwhelmed or focused - it's all Yoga.  Each emotion teaches us, helps us refine our goals, and know, really know, who we are.

I hear crickets singing their song.  Chirping, buzzing, doing their heart's delight.  That's Yoga.
I see leaves crinkle up, trees embracing the chilly weather, letting go of what they do not need.  That's Yoga.
I smell onions browning, chocolate melting, savory and sweet preparing to enter my body, nourish my cells.  That's Yoga.
I feel little hands holding onto my arms.  A tiny nose rubbing back and forth on my chest.  A baby clinging to his gateway into the earthly realms.  That's Yoga.
I taste clean water, in the absence of other flavors I can taste "clean" and "fresh" and "pure".  That's Yoga.

Oh, and that wonderful movement on my mat each day, opening and softening and strengthening my body... Yeah, that's Yoga too.

I am a Mother now.  The opportunities to practice on my mat are more limited than ever before.  Yet, I feel that my Yoga is deeper.  Being a parent requires awareness in the sharpest and subtlest of ways.  At the same time.  All the things I aim to practice on my mat: patience, perseverance, discipline, softness and strength, a free mind and open heart;  Motherhood teaches these qualities more than my mat can.

I am helping my baby boy's free spirit take root in his body.  Every time we step onto our mats isn't that what we are trying to do - harness our spirits within our bodies?  Make a deeper connection between body and spirit?  We become embodied in this life to enjoy our spirits.  It is fascinating to observe and assist a tiny being with this process of becoming embodied.  Our bodies are the tools by which we know our spirits, and through this union, we can know our deepest desires.  Body and Spirit and "I" are yoked.  That's Yoga.

I enjoyed my first Yoga class last night since Sly's been born.  We focused on sensitivity.  I am so thankful that this practice allows, and encourages us to be more sensitive.  To be more of who we are.  To taste, touch, listen, smell and see fully.  Like a baby.  Doing it all for the first time, every time.  I yoke to that.


I offer much thanks and love for my Anusara Yoga teachers for helping me uncover and know these truths.  And much, much thanks to Life, the great teacher, for veiling and unveiling, spinning the web of knowing, taking me on this wild ride, so that I may experience the tangibility of Yoga.