commitments

Writing every day isn't as easy as I thought it was going to be. 

In fact, it's not easy or automatic at all. 

Climbing up stairs? Check. 

No hot chocolate? Surprising not hard even though it's freezing out. 

No gluten? Apparently I are less of it than I realized. 

But writing. Sigh. Not part of my regular practice. 

Yet. 

giving thanks

I am thankful.

Grateful.

Appreciative.

For all the my life is.

For all that it was and how it brought me to where I am today.

For the adventures and changes that are ahead (honestly, less excited about those).

For my family - the center of my universe.

For my puppies who continually fill me with love.

For getting to talk to my mom every day and my stepfather who is so good to me.

For my brother and sister who are both heroes.

For the many wonderful people I've gotten to know and share with.

For living in NYC. 

For getting to design and write. 

For meditating and yoga. 

For Abba. For old Rolling Stones. For the blues. 

For chick flicks and rom coms. 

For continually figuring myself out. 

For still growing. 

celebrating silliness

Hanukkah starts tonight and I'm finding, the older my kids get, the lower their expectations are. 

I mean that in the most positive of ways. 

When they were little I used to feel such pressure to find perfect presents, to create the most memorable memories, to     make sure their holidays lived up to all the seasonal hype. 

Now it's more about being together. 

Spending time.

Getting silly. 

Laughing hard. 

Presents, things, are secondary. Which is the way it should be. 

It's not the stuff that matters. And I'm grateful that they already knows this. 

Saves a lot of wrapping paper. 

not in the groove

Most of my 40 day challenges are going well, mostly because there's a fixed space and time for them. I meditate at 5:50am. Am hiking up stairs by 6:15. But writing every day is eluding me. 

Perhaps that's because it's the more that requires the most effort and the most thoughtfulness. 

And it's the one I most need. 

someone else's wait

Waiting is hard. At least for me. It sets up time to let the stories and scenarios in my head spin more then occasionally out of control. Having a vivid imagination that borders on panic isn't where you'd want to spend those moments that can last eternity.

But, what's even harder than waiting for something for myself, is waiting for my kids. Not waiting as in when they're coming home from school, but waiting to find out whether they got a part in the play, a spot on the flag football team, passed the test they'd studied so hard for.

Knowing that those results aren't my results. I'm here to celebrate or support. To listen or be shut off and shut up. To scream with glee or hug through tears.

To be there.

To not be there.

My feelings about these outcomes are vast but in the end are secondary.

And that's almost as hard as the waiting itself.

There is nothing more in life that I want than to make sure my kids are safe. Happy. Ok.

I wish I could prevent disappointment. Deflect heartache. Take away the sting, the pain, the crash that comes from putting yourself out there.

But, I can't.

And, in the end, those are some of life's most important lessons. Play parts aren't guaranteed. Making the team isn't a given. Romantic feelings aren't always mutual. Favorite schools don't have room for every person who wants to attend. Friends often can't be counted on.

You can't always get what you want.

Me neither. I can't stop the hurt.

But I can share the wallow. And then help move on.

40 day commitments

Years ago, in a yoga class, my teacher mentioned she was making a sadhana, a 40 commitment. That by the end of 40 days what she was undertaking would be so much a part of her daily routine it would be almost automatic.

Her sadhana was flossing.

Tooth care isn't hard for me. I water pick  every day which really helps. That and an electric toothbrush keep my gums in pretty good shape.

But, there are other things out there it's not so easy to commit too.

Like writing. Every day. Especially when nothing significant is going on.

But, maybe that's the practice. Finding extraordinary in the ordinary. Honestly, as I'm finally discovering, life doesn't have to be major drama and experiences at every moment.

And so, I'm struggling to write right now.

Part of the practice.

I've got other sadhanas going on:

day 85 of meditating (that's going great)

day 7 of climbing up 10 flights of stairs every day (no noticeable change in heart pumping and heavy breathing yet)

day 1 of no hot chocolate (I'm inside - not so bad at the moment)

Just finished 40 days of gluten free which ended abruptly when I found out Ray's pizza across the street is closing after 40 or so years. Their white pizza is my favorite so I'll be eating it every day until their doors shut for the final time.

This is also day 7 of writing. Not getting easier.

But not getting harder.

off the beaten path

After Midnight. Broadway. I only wish I'd tried set design in high school when I had the opportunity.