Poised upon rock outside my chiropractor’s office I attempt to regain my balance. I have transitioned from Qigong silk-reeling to Tai Chi cloud-hands. I have a soft gaze. Then a red truck drives down the road and reminds me of how upset I became when I saw the upcoming weeks schedule—it too had me seeing red.
I have been in Physical Therapy since May trying to get mobility and strength back into my right upper body. I have had some neck and shoulder instability for years but over the winter with my push for fitness the joint became irritated and frozen shoulder took over. It is a tenuous balance. If I move to quickly with the P.T. my shoulder takes 3-steps backward and spasms ensue. I am happy I can water overhead plants, again. I am happy I can reach behind me to shut off the shower again. But to open the window over the sink—well that still takes a kitchen chair and I cannot push that window any higher than my shoulder. Still, I accept the progress.
My adjustments at the chiropractor have been twice a week and the added stress to the budget has limited growth in other areas. But it is necessary to get through the latest flare-up. I work a physical job and much of what I do (therapy-wise) helps me keep that job. I cannot have injuries. I must be able to assist people in their daily lives as I am a community living specialist working with people who have physical and cognitive disorders.
I’ve lost over 40 pounds since November 2008, and over 45 pounds since I graduated from Massage School in 2004. No, I do not still massage. I had to close my practice after a car accident and a bout with tendonitis. At that time I had no insurance and did not qualify for state assistance. I struggled thru that time with self care and trades with other therapists.
What I am trying to say is I like my job. I am tired of walking away from work I enjoy. But the schedule had me weighing risks and healing. Schedule conflicts with pre-appointed therapy times and being assigned back at a location known to irritate my injury. After nearly three months of healing and positive gains in health, would I, or should I, even consider taking the risk to help the family and my employer. And why was I being put in this scenario to begin with?
Had I become too complacent? Should I have been looking for another position? One not so hard on the body? Was I at fault here? Maybe the risk I should have taken was bigger student loan debt and 2 more years of college? I had ignored my financial situation as it became more stretched. Losing employment or sustaining me through a necessary change would mean dire stress on the others in my life as I have nowhere to cut-back. All my abundant thinking did not seem to be working last week. I was in the mud.
But I sold a photo, donated a photo, and bought another photographer’s work—her first sale! The work I donated was for a silent auction and it was highly popular and will add to my sales. Mike, too was getting notice for a photo taken in a flash of time—his first publication. This reminding me that abundance is everywhere, coming from new and unknown resources.
I love all the work I do, caring for others, photography, writing. I believe I bring an essence of healing to all I do. The work I need to keep doing is finding new opportunities that bring balance, that add to my health and well-being as well as that of others. It is my intention to strive toward that goal and spend more time poised on rock with cloud hands.
I am a participant in the…
Free Write Fling with Cynthia Morris–31 Days to Loving your Writing!
I was bit by black flies today. Lying on a purple and white striped beach towel, I tired to ignore the bites, the wind whipping sand at my body. I felt in the way of drift and time. What was the essence of those long summers at Cathead Bay? Mike ponders with me in our Sunday morning bed—the expanse of time in which to do nothing—or everything I add. So this afternoon, in my hopes of doing everything, I headed to Wetmore Landing and here I lay in the way of wind and time. I worry that my weight loss has left me looking like a 45 year old woman with clothes that look old, worn-out, and baggy. I am wearing cut-off jeans over my too large swim suit. I’m alone accept for the two girls on towels, and the two boys on rocks, and a family drinking bud-light and doing crossword puzzles. I play with burying my own legs to keep the flies from them. The girls watch drinking their bottles of red Gatorade. Over the rocks comes a boy. He begins crazy construction of a sand castle and moat. He’s in the zone. Separated by this giant granite rock from family, he constructs molding and digging only with hands. Mother appears over the crest of rock and calls, “Brian!” He does not respond. He scoops water and sand. Mom locates the boy and turns back over the rock, back down to her hollow out of the wind. Aunt Linda chases young children down the beach—headed back to the car after what looks like along day hiking.
I walked the wooded trail. Returned by way of beach, greeting each dog, black lab, golden, Shepard, mix. I’m putting off good vibes and they know it. Today I did get time to stand still for a bit. Long enough to scribble words in the margins of this book. Long enough to remember I need bananas from the co-op. Long enough to let hot sand ease some tension from my neck and shoulders. The blue of Lake Superior is powerful in all weather. I gaze out in prayer, hoping to carry some of that power and energy into my work week. Hoping to keep some clarity of who I am instead of the labels that categorize my life into pockets of time and energy. Too often, it seems the clock dictates who I am or what role I play. And, me, I have been telling myself for years I can do anything for a day, eight hours, for the next ten minutes.
I am a participant in the…
Free Write Fling with Cynthia Morris–31 Days to Loving your Writing!
Blonder–>that is how I am today.
Calmer–>that is also how I am today.
Today we are cleaner–>as I scrubbed the sink, toilet and tub and almost caught up on the dishes.
Healthier–>as even though I was feeling the need to fall off my weight-loss diet I went to Border Grill and had a smart-sized cheese quesadilla with black bean side dish.
I am suppose to be working on a vision board and seem to be avoiding this project but I am getting my mental space clear. I am cleaning workspace in a messy studio.
I washed the rug and actually got it to spin out–>that counts, correct?
I emptied out spoiled foods to the garbage and made plans to eat lots of yogurt over the coming days –>that also counts, correct?
I have notes all thru the book I am reading along with bits and pcs. Of poems. The book is Poemcrazy. Highly recommended.
As you can tell this is a wandering free write as I attempt to gain some focus and forward motion. I have not done well on the Free Write Fling this month—I keep trying to renew my commitment.
I am in fact trying to figure out how best to apply my creative talents into a new career. Build a biz that fits an unfilled niche that will make me wildly popular and well-rewarded.
I want fruits from my labors and I mean the kind that will buy me a Subaru Forester and take me to Omega in Rhinebeck for workshops. I want to go to Yoga school and learn healing modalities. I want to publish cards, books, ebooks, and calendars.
I want to sleep to noon tomorrow–>but instead I am working 8-4 taking care of a great family.
I want to go on a long hike up Hogsback. I want to snap pic of waterfalls. I want to skinny dip in Lake Superior (but will probably, gladly wait a month before doing so).
As you can tell this free write is all over the place.
A constant mediation where I struggle to bring it back to my breathe and the intention for this practice–>clarity.
Have I let others down or only myself ? Or have I come to a place beyond all that. Over the rainbow. Beyond Lake Michigan. New shorelines. Daisy became May. New Releases.
Cryptic writing steam of mind, heart, soul. Like seeds blowing on the wind. Dandelion or milkweed from last fall.
It’s about slowing down. Cause if I try to push too hard I will feel deprived. That’s what I am doing this morning. I could have rushed off to the YMCA for a workout or I could be emailing and setting up appointments but today I needed time to write. To eat a good breakfast and to shower, put away laundry and dress in comfy clothes. This morning it was about the fruit in my cereal and the veggies in my lunch. And posting a new creation to the blog.
Last night Mike and I took time to walk at Moosewood’s Bog walk and we played. I found that the bushes in the bog where releasing pollen with a bit of coxing. So we tapped branches and caught pollen clouds. Soon we were tossing branches into the midst of the bog and releasing bigger clouds of pollen. Yellow green clouds drifting on the breeze we started using the continuous function on the cameras to capture clouds as they moved. This much to the dismay of a couple of birders who had been hoping to capture a rare bird with their cameras. Sigh. So sorry. I suppose we looked like children—I know we felt like it.
My state of being has to do with my choices.
I am reading “Poemcrazy” and I love this line in chapter 18, “Nanny had an almost obsessive need for light, for curtains open all the way and for quiet.”
Ritual. At night I must close the curtains and shades just before bed. To block the streetlights. I have never grown use to the light of the city. I love the encompassing dark of the woods. I love the darkness of the beach and dunes at night. I am a country girl. Come morning I must have light. I open things wide. In the bedroom we have crystals hanging by fish line off the curtain rod. I slide them along the rod so the sun catches them just so and fills the room with rainbows.
Quiet. I hear the hum of the municipal power plant down the hill on the shoreline. I love it when power goes out. The hum of the world stops. I can breathe better. I can feel the sphenoid wings in my brain open large and my crown chakra lets dreams in deep.
Migraines are like a noise you cannot stop. Congestion. Cloudy. Heavy and pressured. Sometimes they come from storm fronts. Sometimes they come from a vibration or frequency, like feedback in a concert hall. Sometimes the aurora of color comes as warning and blessing of beauty. Sometimes my words come out in jumbled sentences and I cannot capture my stream of thought and communicate. The noise of my mind reminds me to get off-grid. To walk the Yellow Dog. To breathe in cold dark air away from powerlines.
May day. Tiny willow leaves like tears dripping down, soft trees. Yellow and green, tender trees.
I want to share my last two freewrites but they have to do with my “day job” and I cannot share I was processing some grief and worry. I love the children I work with. Sometimes I lose sleep at night. Sometimes I cry. But I moved into the next morning with Yoga, and ended the night in song with May and Seth, Rachel and Steppin’ In It.
I love the song called “Seeds”. I love May and how she reminds me to slow down. Moving fast does not honor our lives. “I am walking on these seeds/ I am being just as careful as I can.” What we sow…Oh “they’re going to keep on growing.” Karma Baby.
I am breathing this morning. Some may call this hiding from what is needing to be done. But the laundry is placed in drawers and hanging loosely on hangers. The sun is shining rainbows thru the place I sleep and I am in love with my playful self and my playful Mike. Our lives can be magic.
(This is a freewrite only loosely spell-checked and not meant to be grammatically correct and fully formed—it is a sharing of my heart)
Hi all–over the next month I will be taking part in a Free Write Fling facilitated by Cynthia Morris of Original Impulse and Journey JuJu (be sure to check-out her blogs). I have committed to writing 31-days straight, dedicating at least 15-minutes a day. This may mean less photos and more writing. Or it will mean more and more of everything! I like the sound of that.
Sometimes I will share a freewrite with you. A free write is something written on a roll, no logic, no grammatical edits. You butt your inner-editor out of the door of the studio–SCRAM! I say .
Sometimes I will share from work that I am taking more serious. Essay. Memoir. Poetry.
Sometimes I will use a photo to jump-off into writing and free my muse.
Free Write Fling (frreewrite)
I live in a world of kiwi and honey. I love my kitchen. I love the graininess of it all. Jars line up with 4 kinds of rice. We have steel-cut oats. Grapes are divided up in one-cup portable portions. I stir-fry up the weeks chicken for flaxy grainy wraps with black beans, red pepper, cukes and more. My peanut butter is organic, and I can dip an apple or carrot at a whim.
Some kitchens seem foreign to me. There are boxes of products with instructions. Snacks come in crinkly plastic and have empty calories. I cannot find the whole-food experience. The slow food experience. A whole grain must be something the mouse took away.
I live in a world of daffodils, shaggy, bright yellow, popping out of thyme clumps. The tulips soon to follow. Tiny lilac leaves promise a new spring. I live in a world of bird feeders and song. I live in a world of creative pursuit. Have camera will click sometimes in concert with my Magic Man.
I live up the hill from greatness, blue, blue Superior. Sunrises. Sails that dance every Wednesday evening like a flock of birds resting on water they speckle the harbor. Bike path community, walkers and runners, strollers and bikes. Fit city. Hopeful city. Destination city.
Sometimes places seem foreign to me with nowhere to turn, to run, to bike. Backyards closed and forgotten. No potted cheerfulness. No song of children.
I want to build a healthy city, where people smile and nod their heads. I want to help people cross the street from survival mode to prosperity and health. I want people to love their life. Proclaim their joy!
I want to share healing. A chant of Ohm. A grace of clam. A hearth of home.
Like the apple there is a seed within and it is looking for soil, loamy and rich. To uncurl. To root. To grow red fruit and feed my neighbor.
- I talked to Sherry at Chapter II Books and next week will bring photos for her to consider (Monday before 2pm).
- I took 4, 8x10s photos of “Mist Woods” to be matted at The Art of Framing.
- Edited photos
- Worked on possible postcards of my photos
- Managed Finances and set-up ACH Monthly funding of my Money Market Account part of my Suze Orman, save Yourself Plan.
- Subscribed to a magazine that I am considering as a possible market.
- Put the battery in my timer so I can be more accurate and push myself to write non-stop for 15 minutes (timed free writes).
The snow is gently falling now and I have fresh veggies for dinner. I feel calm and creative and hope to spend the rest of my evening in the studio.
I still want to come up with free write prompts and projects as I am feeling a bit scattered despite getting so much done. I ought to set-up my day to write first and everything else later. Tomorrow, before I leave to substitute teach in Ishpeming, I will do just that.
February is usually a bleak month for me, suffering from seasonal disorder, the lack of sunshine begins to take affect and I fall into depression. Where I am having some signs, I seem to be holding on better to hope and faith than in the past.
I am concerned about my weight. I have had too many people, students, children comment in some manner on my “shape.” I am not sure I ever wrote about my weight online before. I am 200 pounds (give or take 4 lbs). I wish to stay under the 200 marker but it creeps. I am active. Maybe not athletically fit, but fit enough to go on a fast-paced walk with 8th graders or a several mile hike. I do not “feel” like the reflection I “see” when I look in the mirror. I carry most of my weight in my core or center or in my abdominal area. This often prompts the question, “Are you pregnant. And then for a few days I spiral into self-esteem hell. Couple this with an arm injury that has had me looking for jobs I can do, or workouts I can do, or even how I can or cannot write/type and we have a new type of depression. I have no health insurance. And my doctor is not interested in helping me lose weight as my cholesterol and blood pressure, and sugars are excellent.
Okay this is the bravest post I have made, I think.
I try not to think of myself as “Fat.”
But I am well aware there are many people who look at me and think, “Fat.”
I have gotten hell from people in my life. My father when I was 115 pounds would repeatedly tell me if I gained much more weight men would not want me—no one wants a fat girlfriend, or wife. I was 5 foot 3 inches and wore a size 7. Yet, I was banished from the kitchen after dinner and not allowed seconds and verbally abused.
My massage therapy instructor would also harass me about my weight and say the same thing. Who would want me? It would be more healthful if I would lose weight.
Here I am in a healthy relationship with a man I love, deeply. Where I have injuries that stop me, I can do most everything I attempt. Where I might want to be more fit to climb steeper hills and mountains I know that it is an attainable goal. Yet I cannot accept my reflection. I am avoiding the gym due to my reflection (but I have paid my membership in full for the year and I also have a punch-pass for the pool). And, quite frankly, I am not sure I can change my “shape.”
How do I feel about this free write/post?
Shocked at the subject it turned into, Curious, Shy (but I am posting it anyway).
Changing the Moment and Causing a Shift of Focus
This past week I looked at changing the outcome. I looked at my day in advance and thought how I could bring part of myself to the moment, consciously. As I packed, for work on Saturday night I thought of the “consumer” I would work with. How could I change our day? I packed a special massage cream to use. The cream was used in my practice when I worked full time as a massage therapist and that part of my shift became a moment of peace and happiness.
On Friday I thought where do I want to take the person I am caring for—what colors do I want to share, what aromas, what song will I sing, what music will I play in the car. I took it to a teaching and sharing level and the change in my emotions and satisfaction took on new meaning.
Just simply planning a lunch that is healthful, organic, bright and colorful, crisp and fresh is energizing. I am keeping water at my side in a green poly-carbonate bottle. I have dried pineapple on hand in my magical red backpack. Textures, crunchy, smooth, creamy, a variety that stimulates my perceptions.
I am planning to change the bedside table, my pillow, using a scented hand-cream before sleep. Lighting. Two weeks ago, I started turning off the television for part of my evening as the people I share a home with have it on, often. I now ask, “Anyone watching this?” Then click. The quiet at the close of my day is calming.
Routes to where I travel on an everyday basis have become adventurous. I take the long route or more scenic route. I make a random turn. This upcoming week I promise to visit a store I have never walked into. Leave my biz postcards in a new location. And change up the plants on my desk.
How do I feel about this post?
Pleased, Adventurous, Expectant.
I am joining other writers this month in a Free Write Fling coached by Cynthia Morris at Original Impulse. This is my second time, paying for the privilege of writing. Craziness and madness in winter, eh? Not so, It is a useful tool to hold oneself accountable to a coach or group and make a commitment to yourself. So here we go, the first timed free write of February!
Free Write Fling
After an editing session in which I was playing with the images from the Eben Ice Caves, I got to thinking of the power of water. How over 20 people where hanging out on a winter afternoon with family and friends looking at ice, cuddling up next to each other and posing for photos. I wanted to dance, do Tai Chi, put my back up against the cliff and chant OHMMMMMMMMM. Dr. Emoto’s work provided the world with factual evidence, that human vibrational energy via thoughts, words, ideas and music, affect the molecular structure of water. You might have seen the movie “What the Bleep do We Know” that was released back in 2004 in which his work was discussed.
The people on the trail were of all fitness levels and from all backgrounds. Some had spirited drinks to warm their belly. Young couples had toddlers that they pulled on sleds. Smokers. Athletes. Hippies. Photographers. All of us “One” and on a pilgrimage to ice, to worship, to have awe at Nature.
The colors of the ice were like a mood ring and glowed blue or green in the differing light. Some ice crystallized and delicate. Some fluid and shiny smooth. Trails of sulphur tinted tresses looked like yellow dreadlocks cascading down a hill. Music played in my mind. I felt all the people here are happy today. Some are in love, strongly in love.
Snow falls to the ground, each snowflake we are told is unique in it’s crystalline structure. Snowflakes melt and fill the water table, which helps sustain life over the coming seasons. And we move through our days mostly unattached to the natural process. But then there are these pilgrimages that pull us from the warmth of our homes to take part in what has become an Upper Peninsula ritual the trek to the ice caves of Eben.
You have seen it on your treks I am sure, those who flock to shorelines, waterfalls, and lakes. Water defines us in a sense, we are comprised of water, dependant upon it for our survival but how many of us are aware that our actions, thoughts, and even the music we play can change the structure.
Here I am this winter trying to capture the essence of ice and I need to be mindful that I can do more than capture an image on my SD card. I can heal, love, nourish the water and by doing so affect the whole.
How do I feel: