that day is finally here

President Barack Obama. What a thrill that is to write. What a thrill that was to say. The first time I said it out loud, to Iz and Jack while we were eating dinner, I had to hold back tears. I am but one of millions who was moved to tears today. Whose hope is restored. Who is looking forward to tomorrow. Who is ready to let go of fear. Who wants to believe. Who is proud to be an American again. Who feels change in the air. Who is determined to serve. Who knows the world is a better place.

celebrating ali

As I was walking through the snow to yoga this afternoon, I remembered the first time I ever took Ali's class at Laughing Lotus.

It was a snowy afternoon, the class was at 4:15, so the sky wasn't dark yet. It was my 4th week at the studio—I didn't yet know how early you had to be to score a good spot (back row, left corner), so I walked in to find the class cram packed. Ali walked over and found me a spot in the front row. FRONT ROW. My worst nightmare. I was up in the corner so I couldn't look to others for guidance. I didn't know the chants or many of the poses, but soon Ali's soundtrack washed over me—man, she can put together a playlist that moves and grooves. As we practiced, I watched the snow fall against the cast iron building across the street and the sky darken, through the windows hung with heavy velvet curtains. Car headlights glistened below and all sound from outside was muffled as we down dogged and warriored through class.

As we ended and laid down for shavasana, I was amazed that not only had I survived, but I felt this inner grace and beauty I hadn't felt in yoga before. And then, as I slipped towards the edges of bliss, Ali gave me the most delicious foot massage. I fell in love. With yoga, with her class, with Laughing Lotus.

the other side of anxiety

At the moment, I'm reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. Basic concept: super successful people get that way by more than just talent/intellect. It's a combination of luck, circumstances, when they were born as it relates to what's going on in society. AND, 10,000 hours of time dedicated. That's 10 years of work toward creating an expertise.

Mix that with Jill Bolte Taylor's powerful story (tp://tinyurl.com/3l9h9y) about her experience of her stroke. As a brain scientist, she had logical insight as to what exactly was physically happening. Her explanation of how the brain works, the in-the-moment creativity and wholeness of the right hemisphere, the living in the future and past, list-making, plotting and planning of the left hemisphere made brain mechanics crystal clear.

I sat, wondering what I've done for 10,000 hours that I could be considered an expert at. Parenting? It's been 10+ years (just) but I'm no expert—I scramble every day. Graphic design? It's been that long but that's more something I was born with. I don't slave away at it hour after hour.

And then it came to me. ANXIETY. Yup. That's my field of expertise. Anxiety. I've been battling it since I was too young to know what it is. My left hemisphere is so powerful (as I suppose most people's are) that it fights every time I try to ease it up a bit. For years now I've been working to lessen its grip. Yoga. Meditation. Writing. Ways to stay out of the spin cycle.

At least now I'm aware of its hold and power and have let go of some major roadblocks. I can go in the subway after 10 years of panicking when walking by the steps down. Elevators freak me out less. Planes, almost not at all. Skiing? OK, not everything's better but I'm aware of my fear and am determined not to let it win anymore.

The other side of anxiety. I'm heading there.

twittering

So, I'm all about twitter at the moment only I feel like there's some twitter secret that I don't get. Make that many secrets. How can people do all sorts of personalized pages? I can't get one simple image to work in the space. Where did all those life coaches come from? Do I need one? Could I be one? What is it that I want to do with my life? I know I'm leaving my original question behind but I'm feeling scarily out of the loop and I'm not sure what the loop even is. Twitter. Tweets. Tweet deck. Retweet. Who are these people who are exceedingly adept at this? I remember feeling this way about school spirit. All these people around me had it but I wasn't sure what exactly "it" was. I feel the same way about religion. I respect other's faith, but totally don't understand. Or maybe it's more like twitter is the all about the popular kids and you're not sure what makes them so special but you know you're not one of them. Yes, I'm regressing. Maybe it's because I only have 41 people following me and that's bringing up feelings of inadequacy, bordering slightly on rejection. Yup. Straight back to 7th grade. My hair is better and I don't have to worry about if anyone will ever like me, but much of those other anxiety feelings are the same.

cyber etiquette for kids

Yesterday Jack, who's not yet 8, wanted to post a picture of an angry midget on his blog and say that it was his dad. Deep sigh. There were many things wrong with this scenario. First of all, I don't think "midget" is the term people use anymore. And funny as Jack thought the idea was, outright lying on something read by people he knows is wrong. Or is it? Was/am I making too big an issue of the strange but relatively harmless idea of a kid? He was putting words and images to his imagination. If he wrote that in a story, I would have found it strange, but would have appreciated his novel viewpoint and creativity. Somehow, putting it out for the world to see was different.

Which brings up the whole issue of people creating fake personas online. I know parents who have fake identities so their kids will friend them on facebook. I know women in their 70s (ok, I know one) who hung out in gay chat rooms. People have myspace pages for their cats, their turtles, their alter egos. Being honest is not a requirement for online communication. In some ways, the anonymity of cyberspace allows for extreme honesty—when you have time to think through your thoughts before shooting off an email, it's often easier to say exactly what you want without being in the same space as someone else. It's also reassuring to not see a reaction, which allows people (me) to sometimes put more out there than I usually would. On the other hand, it's really easy to lie, to be someone else. Isn't that what video games are all about? What is Sim City? You're a master planner in charge of the fate of some city you create. They have that now for kids. Cyber realities where you can change everything about yourself.

Ok, I'm losing my point. But, I have one more tangent. A kid I know called people "bitches" on his facebook page. I was offended but wondered if I'm wrong. Maybe I'm too old. Maybe kids are growing up in this altered reality where an online world is their reality, or at least a significant part of it. Maybe the combination of hyper-honesty and full-fledged fantasy is the wave of the future. Or the present.

amazed and grateful

Today's crash was so many horrors wrapped up into one. When someone in my building first told me a plane crashed into the river, I thought he was joking. Then my heart stopped when my brain flashed to a terrorist attack. Planes in NYC where they're not supposed to be is terrifying. I watched the twin towers burn from my bedroom window. For months, I panicked every time a plane flew too close over the city. That was like watching a blockbuster Hollywood action flick—how could that possibly be happening? And that's what today feels like but with a happy ending. Unbelievable that no one was killed. That rescue workers and the Circle Line pulled together on this freezing day to get everyone out of the water. That there's now a large plane mostly submerged off the west side highway, blocks from the Intrepid. Hey, blocks from me.

I am often a cynic, but today was a miracle.

pump it up

Yesterday I pumped gas for the very first time. Ever. This was just about the last on my list of things I'd resolved never to do. But, I pulled into the gas station, pulled up to the pump, and no one bounded out to fill my car up. No one slowly shuffled out either. I was on my own, with a cell phone that was almost dead. I called Jon, panicking, begging him to talk me through (or down, which ever the case was). First, my debit card didn't work - took 5 swipes through the pump before I could even start. I pulled the pump out, flipped up the lever only to find I couldn't get the cap off the gas tank. I swear it was glued into place, although now it seems an unlikely possibility. I checked with Jon at every step, making sure I wasn't going to fill the backseat or blow up the station. Surprisingly, I survived. The tank is full. The car and I made it back to the block in time to get a parking spot. And now I can say I've pumped. I doubt I'll ever do it again.