self-compassion, anyone?

This topic has come to me from many directions, so that must mean it is one of my main life assignments this semester ;). 

Do you do self-compassion?

I read about Kristin Neff's book by the same title in Spirituality and Health, my favorite magazine.  This week, I found it at the local library in the 7-day checkout section, so I brought it home.  It is a must-read, I can tell.

I have friends who practice self-compassion, family members who do, a husband who coaches me in it.  I learn from all these people...

I understand what Kristin Neff is saying.  I know my inner need to chuck the absurd notion that life's a competition. 

I never did get "self-esteem," as it was, in my opinion, marketed like a tangible good, a consumer item I could go out and buy, if I followed the right steps to get to the store, or had parents who followed the right parenting style, or something.

What I do get is that I want to give my children the gift of me in a healthy state of mind.  And, believe me, I'm there sometimes.  I am not there, though, when I'm on a self-judging jag.  Oh no, I'm not.

And I'm timid about stepping away from the terra cognita of "you're only as good as the life you lead, the quality of work you put out, the cleanliness of your home or car or fingernails..."

That is enough for now.  The compassionate thing for me to do for myself is to sleep. 

Thinkin' 'bout stuff

A boisterous late-night HELLO to my dear real and imagined readers!  What a treat it is to read blogs and participate in them.  Facebook is fun 'n all (I really am in an apostrophic mood), but I like the reined-in intimacy that this mode of communication provides.

I am so inspired by the people around me and on the Web who seek to live awake, on purpose, and with joy.

The particular flavor of joy I've been feeling of late is the type that belongs more in the subdued joy category than the crazy, colorful joy category.

I joyfully accept that.  I like neutral colors, too.  And we're in that neutral, Thanksgiving-y joy season.  Reflective joy.

Here are some of my neutral, subdued, reflective joys:  my family, the four of us and our extended family; birthday parties in churches; my-sister's-just-become-an-art-therapist parties (love those!); a gazania plant that continues to open and close in the sun; yellow maple leaves on the windshield of the car across the street and the neighbor boy wearing Anna's hat; Anthony Bourdain; John Taylor Gatto; the Renaissance Soul idea; the fact that I am bearing witness to the people my kids are becoming; sermons delivered by a two-year-old, a four-year-old, and an almost-nine-year-old in an empty church sanctuary this morning; the powerful knowledge that I can ask.for.help.; vegan cookbooks and all manner of cookbooks; a row of knitting here and there; preparations for an Advent spiral; a working dishwasher; love, love, love; health; delicious food; fondue, sausage, chicken burritos, green smoothies, roasted nuts, mangoes, sweet potatoes, chocolate chip cookies...help me!

Amen.  And goodnight!

daughters, cows and goddesses

Assumption of Mary yesterday.  Sunday night I had the privilege of reading this gorgeous poem while a friend danced at a vesper service in Mary's honor.  What an all-round gorgeous opportunity.

I've celebrated August 15 in an inward sort of way for quite a few years now.  But I don't know why.  I learned about the day from one of my all-time favorite books, Gertrud Mueller Nelson's To Dance with God.

I don't understand and just-plain-can't articulate my relationship with Mary, but I enjoy it.  And I suspect it points me to an even broader goddess/Sophia love.  I need to read this book next.

Yesterday I spoke with my dad on the phone.  He told me about a 24/7 dairy farm he visited in Vermont.  Robots milk the cows.  I find that depressing and disrespectful to the process of lactation.  I have been moving away from cow's milk over the last five months, and see myself continuing in that direction.  Never say never, and everything in moderation and all.  No need for extremism on this end.  Yet it's that subjugation thing at work, even (or especially) at the dairy.  The suppression of female energy, the distortion of male energy, the absence of balance.

None of it is new, and it's not getting me down, really.  But I am captivated by the exploration, by the old women I meet in my dreams, by the intersections of past and future that are as near as a baby girl's soft skin next to a mother's withered hand.

Knowing I'm never alone on this exciting leg of the journey of life is a great consolation.  I'm wondering and noticing things women have wondered and noticed forever.  And change still happens, even as the questions persist.

on mystery, revolution and the goddess who mothers

Today I had the privilege of hearing Bess Klassen Landis share about her experience being the daughter of a woman who was brutally murdered before the age of 42.  Bess was thirteen at the time.

Stories like that aren't soon forgotten, especially when they are told by individuals who speak from a deep place of peace and surrender, as Bess did.  As I reflect on Bess's story, the songs with which she accompanied it, and the blessing that led into the silence that followed her sharing, my heart is summoned yet again to heed its job and calling:  to be true to the life I've been given, to let my life speak, to take the business of my humanity seriously and lightly at the same time.

I also had the privilege of sitting face-to-face with my mother this morning after Bess's sermon.  We don't go to church together, so I seldom see her on Sundays.  These days, I'm more mindful than ever of the ways I resemble her:  the gifts I bear that are like hers, the gifts I bear that are different from her own, and the genes within me that came from her.  My way of being in the world is both like hers and different from hers.

Ach!  I'm not remembering the truth of what I wanted to say as accurately now, after the fact, as I was when I was thinking these thoughts of profundity three or more hours ago.  Suffice it to say, as a forty-year-old woman, I take the call to live my life more seriously than I did ten and twenty and twenty-five years ago.  Time is fleeting.  It's true.  Now is the time to live intentionally and do the things I want to do.

And playing magnets with a certain adorable girl (after changing her diaper) is first on the to-do list.

Oh!  And the goddess and revolution thoughts:  I was conscious of a mothering presence--the goddess--sitting near me today as I reflected on Bess's words and my own experience of them.  She is ever-near, and I struggle to find the words to describe her salty, grassy, dry and wet greatness.  So that's the mystery, too.  And the revolution?  Well, it's just trying to claim the days as sacred, recognizing that they certainly, certainly are.

vows to self and life

This 30 Day Vegan experience has been a good one for me.  How I have marveled at the plant realm's ability to nourish me, many days exclusively.  I have not kept a vegan diet 100% of the time, and I have not felt compelled to.

What I have done is discover that, at 40 and at this stage in my life, I am much opener to dietary changes than I was ten or fifteen years ago.  I am now more curious:  how does dairy affect my health?  What does my body feel like while eating wheat?  Meat? 

Sugar...that's a different topic, maybe one I'll explore later on this year.  Who knows?

For now, I joyfully keep a vow to remain plant-centered in my eating.  I crave beef and fish, and enjoy eating those meats.  I listen to my body and what it asks for.  What an amazing experience!

What I've been surprised by is that avocados, raw cashews, maple syrup, kale, sweet potatoes, coconut milk and oil, dark or semi-sweet chocolate, bananas, artichokes, blueberries, almonds, and many other things are more than luxurious enough to get me through the day. 

I give thanks for the grass-fed hamburger I've been privileged to enjoy, the free-range eggs that are on their way to me, and the plants that are the center of my sustenance.

In the midst of all the toddler-care, homeschooling and family responsibilities, I took the opportunity to make and share a delicious vegan soup on Saturday.  As Heather shared with the other retreatants on Saturday, soup-making and, of course, all cooking, can be a spiritual discipline.

Not only that, our very lives depend on our cooking and food preparation.  I sense this in a deeper way now than I used to.  The necessity of chopping so many fruits and vegetables has attuned me to that.

I was asked Saturday evening if I was sad to return from the conference I attended last week.  "Was it hard to come home [to reality]?"

I guess the vow I am and have been making is one (many) to use ritual, daily habits, how I eat, to try and keep life "all of a piece."

I have to chuckle, though, as I read that last sentence, because I'm a newbie, a baby, an ever-needing-to-begin-again beginner with regard to habits.

Yet I am conscious.  I am conscious that I want both the ecstasy and the laundry, to borrow the title of the Jack Kornfield book I have been wanting to read.

Livin' with polarities.  That's life.  That's me.  Here I am. 

Thanks be to God.  Blessed be.

figuring out some things

It's been great to blog again.  I've gotten to know some fabulous new (to me) bloggers and gained necessary inspiration for my daily life.

And now it's time for me to take a bit of a break.  I've got many irons in the fire right now:  taxes, upkeep on our home business records, a new dishwasher on the way (truly, glory hallelujah; I thought I could get into washing by hand, but I haven't been able to swing it), a potential new 1/4 time job for me at our church, the usual round of homeschooling things, preparations for a spring equinox celebration, a conference on Mary in Anabaptist Dress, which will provide me with the opportunity to read a lovely Gerard Manley Hopkins poem (bliss) and...an exciting 30-day at-home retreat for me (with Heather from Beauty that Moves).

Blessings!

luxurious breakfast

This morning we were out of milk and yogurt, my breakfast staples.  Instead of enjoying the charms of those particular dairy products, I made myself one of my favorite sweet sandwiches, remembering that we had cream cheese in the fridge.  Here it is:
whole-grain bread slices, or some hearty bread that won't fall apart easily
a liberal layer of cream cheese or neufchatel on one of the slices
a liberal layer of nutella or a high-quality impersonator on the other slice
a nice sprinkling on both slices of cashew halves and diced, dried apricots

Unite the sandwich slices, cut sandwich in half if you desire, and garnish with fruit or whatever else strikes your fancy.  Enjoy!