Emma cracks me up. She doesn't usually have much to say, but when she finally does say something it's usually funny or clever or interesting or wise. I admire that about her. She doesn't have a need a fill the air with too many words like so many people do. She's content in her silence and confident enough to not babble away unnecessarily.
Emma and I often go to yoga class together. (If you knew me at all that last sentence would have made you laugh. I'm not athletic or flexible or physically strong. I am a bit of a spaz and am never quite sure how to coordinate these long limbs of mine.) We've been going fairly regularly as a way to get out of the house, do something physical and spend some time together - but mostly to escape from our broken hearts for an hour.
The teacher is just what you'd think a yoga instructor would be. She fits all the stereotypes you might have about someone who spends a great deal of her time trying to "find her center" and "achieve inner peace" while she "connects with her true self." Petite, fit, soft-spoken, meditative, very little make-up, bare feet.
I struggle with the movements and poses because of my bum hip, twice-broken foot and old age. But I get out there and I give it a go, which I'm proud of. Emma is much better at all of it since she is young and a dancer.
At the end of class the teacher always says, in a very soft-spoken manner, "Honor others. Honor yourselves. Honor your teacher. Namaste." And it always makes us giggle. It just seems SOOO new age-ish and I'm afraid we're too sarcastic and cynical to take it all that seriously.
The other night, we were in class and the lights were dimmed and the room was quiet as we followed the teacher's instructions...Warrior's Pose, Tree pose, and then Downward Dog. I struggle with Downward Dog because my arms are not strong and my hip always wants to give out. Oh, and I struggle with vertigo too, so having my head down lower than my torso always creates dizziness. It takes a lot of focus for me and I work hard at it. Towards the end of class, we were in our Downward Dog pose while we all listened to some very bizarre, obscure, new age musical number with a lute playing and I believe what was the slow beat of a bongo in the background. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Emma loud-whispers to me, "Mom!" I didn't answer - I was too busy focusing on my arms not giving out as my face turned beet red and sweat formed on my upper lip with the effort. So she said again, in an even louder-whisper, "MOM!" Annoyed, I loud-whispered back, "WHAT?!" Then she said, "This is my favorite song."
Hahahahahahaha!!! I collapsed into a Laying Down Dog Flat On My Mat pose in a fit of giggles. Soon to follow were glares from my fellow yoga-mates and the teacher, oh the teacher did not look pleased at all. Emma just shook her head at me as if she were just an innocent bystander and all like, "It wasn't THAT funny, Mom."
LOVE her!
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
Bigger Than A Train Wreck
I had an upsetting dream last night. Typically when I have dreams, whatever happens in them can be traced back to some concrete reality from the previous days before I had it - just with a bizarre twist to it. Like, say, I drink a can of soda in real life (unusual for me) and then I'll have a dream about drinking a can of soda and blowing up like a balloon and floating off into the sunset. Or, I'll watch a documentary about Kennedy's assassination and I'll have a dream about jump-roaping on a grassy knoll - in Thailand. Totally bizarre.
But last night I had one that I can't seem to trace back to anything concrete from the past few days, but that I know for sure is symbolic of how my life is going lately. In it, a space shuttle had just launched and I was watching it from a high floor in a high rise building. People were cheering and in awe as they craned their heads skyward to watch it disappear into the atmosphere. As it got further into the sky, but still quite close to earth, there were suddenly orange flames flashing out from the bulbous nose of the spacecraft that quickly made their way on down the rest of the body of the shuttle, swallowing it until it was engulfed and coming apart. The separate pieces were falling to the earth onto the busy street below the building I was in and crashing into cars and greedily swallowing those up in flames as well. I looked up and the largest shuttle piece remaining was hurtling towards earth and I watched as it crashed into a building across the street and exploding causing utter and total devastation. I knew that in that second and the ones before, many people - innocent, good people - were killed, or maimed or burned. That their lives were destroyed or forever altered.
It seemed so real in my dream, so vivid, that I woke up from it thinking that I should turn on CNN to get more information about what was happening. Then, as I became more awake, I realized that it was just a dream but then I instantly realized somehow that that space shuttle bursting into flames and destroying so much around it was a clear symbol of my life at the moment. I started crying. That space shuttle was me and it fell apart and by falling apart it hurt what surrounded it - it hurt people's lives by not holding up and doing what it was supposed to do. By not being stronger. Something inside, deep within its being - a faulty wire, a weak bolt, a crack in the metal innards - gave way, and tipped the shuttle over the edge of what it should have been able to accomplish and manage until it just exploded and fell apart, taking down many others with it.
I, and my life, are way beyond a train wreck. We're an exploding space shuttle.
But last night I had one that I can't seem to trace back to anything concrete from the past few days, but that I know for sure is symbolic of how my life is going lately. In it, a space shuttle had just launched and I was watching it from a high floor in a high rise building. People were cheering and in awe as they craned their heads skyward to watch it disappear into the atmosphere. As it got further into the sky, but still quite close to earth, there were suddenly orange flames flashing out from the bulbous nose of the spacecraft that quickly made their way on down the rest of the body of the shuttle, swallowing it until it was engulfed and coming apart. The separate pieces were falling to the earth onto the busy street below the building I was in and crashing into cars and greedily swallowing those up in flames as well. I looked up and the largest shuttle piece remaining was hurtling towards earth and I watched as it crashed into a building across the street and exploding causing utter and total devastation. I knew that in that second and the ones before, many people - innocent, good people - were killed, or maimed or burned. That their lives were destroyed or forever altered.
It seemed so real in my dream, so vivid, that I woke up from it thinking that I should turn on CNN to get more information about what was happening. Then, as I became more awake, I realized that it was just a dream but then I instantly realized somehow that that space shuttle bursting into flames and destroying so much around it was a clear symbol of my life at the moment. I started crying. That space shuttle was me and it fell apart and by falling apart it hurt what surrounded it - it hurt people's lives by not holding up and doing what it was supposed to do. By not being stronger. Something inside, deep within its being - a faulty wire, a weak bolt, a crack in the metal innards - gave way, and tipped the shuttle over the edge of what it should have been able to accomplish and manage until it just exploded and fell apart, taking down many others with it.
I, and my life, are way beyond a train wreck. We're an exploding space shuttle.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
New Lows
I found myself on the bathroom floor tonight, crying my eyes out. That was after crying my eyes out this morning on a bench on a public mountain trail. I am being brought to my knees and I keep trying to figure it out. I keep trying to make sense out of things that will never make sense. I sat on that bench and stared at the magnificent morning sunrise with things swimming around in my head grasping, reaching, praying for answers. For ways to fix or heal or answer or DO ANYTHING about any of it.
Then tonight I lost it in front of my daughter. I found some things out from her that just...buckled me. Like a bat to the back of my knees, I was emotionally down - surrendered against my will to the reality that is my life. I have no answers. I can't fix any of it. I'm not sure if I'll ever heal.
I'm scared and I'm sad and I feel hopeless.
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