Equinimity

Jesus and his apostles walked by a dead rotting dog. When his disciples turned away in disgust, he said, "What beautiful teeth."

The remains of my dog's (de-squeaked) toy looks like a corpse without the blood or guts. But in some ways it is beautiful to me, sitting on the stainless steel table. It fought the good fight.

My inspiration

Layers

1 repeating form x 6
















2 layered forms


















3 layered forms

Stage 1

Stage 1 of my New Year piece.
Started with pencil. Scribbling and filling. No thinking.
Next with charcoal. Darkening and defining.
The tree and ladder. The star-person above. The human head and hand. Dark furry animal being in front. Movement above coming down into human head. Next layer...

Right now

Loved like a baby

In my family growing up (like many families) it was frowned upon to show weakness or sickness. I learned early on to hide things and became a pollyanna (happy face) and was rewarded for this behavior.

I utilized “baby speak” when I was uncomfortable throughout my childhood and even into adulthood. It was only when I became conscious of it that I stopped. I know many professional women who speak in this way and it endears them to those who would be intimidated by them otherwise. I don’t know any men who do this.

When my daughter who is 7 speaks in this way I immediately acknowledge it by saying, “I know sometimes speaking like a baby is comforting. Like you will be loved like a baby. You feel like you are loveable whether you make a mess or cry. I love you little baby!” I just wish I could feel this way for myself.

Yesterday was the first day without a headache in 2 months. I went to the movies to see ‘Into the Woods” with a friend. I was pleased that it was almost as good as the original with Bernadette Peters. It was the first day I felt close to normal, the fluid from my head subsiding. Less like an anvil for a head.

Today?

I am breathing.

What is well? What is ill?

Can any one of us say we are perfectly well in our body, emotion, mind and spirit? Maybe there are some who say they are. I hope these folks are in helping positions because I think that we are all working to be better.

I am working to be more compassionate to myself and others. You see, just saying "I am depressed." or admitting I am taking anti-depressants makes me feel like a loser. I am imagining what some of you will say. "I would never..." or "That is the weak person's way..." or what I have said in the past, "You can take antidepressants but it is a spiritual imbalance manifesting in the soul life. "

And maybe it is. But crying every day and feeling more and more unable to reach out because I am crying every day is a hard place to be when you need to step up your spiritual practice. Why cry? It is not a choice. I comes out.

I have a daughter who cries freely. I admire that she is so free with her emotions; joyful bouncing, singing when she is excited, growling when she is mad. She is very comfortable with her feelings. However, I have noticed how resentful I become when she is sad. Or my lack of compassion when she is sick. This is exactly the reaction my ex had throughout our marriage when I was sick and/or sad. It made me feel choked and silenced and disappeared.

Since I started "managing" (i.e. medicating) I have been able to wake up in the middle of the night and comfort my daughter if she is unwell. I have been able to attend to her without feeling resentful of my own lack of self-comfort. I have been able to focus outside my own paralysis on other things.

A friend recently gave me Amanda Palmer's "The Art of Asking" which I am reading. In the beginning of the book she shares stories from when she was a living statue in Harvard Square. She would dress in this long bridal gown, paint her face white and don a retro black Betty Paige wig and stand still until someone put money in the hat. Then she would give them a flower from her flower vase. And start over.

What struck me was her connection to this piece of art. Her impulse behind the piece was to imbue the thought:

"Please. Believe me. I am real. "

A knock on the door

Today I woke up late to a very blue sky and sparkling frost on the ground. When I took Lulu out there seemed to be more birds around than usual and I imagined my nephew, who is a bird aficionado, identifying them all . And Lulu, who really appreciates the woods, stopped here and there to meditate on the sounds and the movement in the trees. She investigated an old bird nest. She was still. While most people experience the over-enthusastic and pulsating side of my dog, she has the capacity for true focus and appreciation for the now. I really admire animals for this.

Yesterday my daughter left for the week-end with her dad. I was alone on Christmas and I didn't really like it much. Then there was a knock on the door. One of my neighbors, a wise elder of the Eco-village, invited me to dinner and also to help him with a more creative project.

I also received a young visitor with a basket of treats from his family. He stayed and played with Lulu, talking with me all the while. Then he tried out Booty's stilts and made progress with them, again talking amiably. And asked for a temporary tattoo and a gingerbread cookie. He ran home when it was time for me to leave for dinner.

I continue to study the materials and work through my new job orientation online. I find the movement of today more comfortable (stuff to do) and send a wish for better health to arise out of my positivity.

Christmas Perhaps

Perhaps

Its not dead

It is just sleeping

Barren, dry and impoverished looking

One would think it has reached its limit

That it is useless, tapped out.

How impatiently we wait to see.

Should we start hacking away?

Editing out the chaff?

Clearing away the brush, now a crackling mass,

A bonfire’s meal.

How long do we wait?

There could be some life swelling in there.

This could be the dream-time, the time that potential builds.

And without this rest, a new wave of abundance would only sickly

Trickle and meagerly offer from exhaustion more hollow notes.

The farmer waits. The teacher waits. The mother waits.

The divine waits.

As death and rebirth reciprocate.

As ice justifies the thaw.

The gums swell painfully and the child protests.

And the branches of my life drop every sign of worth.

Do I cut them and plant anew?

Or is there still something there?

                             Elizabeth Doshi  (December 2014)

You live!

When I am well

I continue to hear myself say, “When I am well…” Why do I have to wait until I am feeling healthy? Why can’t I seize the day with hope and excitement? Why can’t I learn to live with what is present? My excuse I say is, “I am not accustomed to feeling unwell. I am used to having lots of energy. I never get sick.” Well, in this case that is not true. So why not just do what you can? “I am! “ I say, with a little bit of anger and resentment.” I am taking care of my daughter. I am keeping the house clean. Walking the dog. Feeding the animals. What more can I do right now?” Accept. Let go of the timeline for wellness that you have written in stone.

This advice does not inspire. And oh, by the way, life has to be filled with inspiring moments and romantic vistas and gorgeous friends and brilliant children and Earth-Mother-women and their Earth-Father-men. Magic and Divine grace and all.

What I have here is mud and muck and thick, unrelenting and headache-inducing mucus. Forced smiles. False optimism. Mounting medical bills. An impending loss of income. And a creeping feeling that I will soon disappear and become a sketch of the idea of my ideal self without any real tooth or fire, hue or star substance whatsoever.

So bless me. I am doing it myself. As I love those without charm. As I am kind to those who are not compassionate. As I continue to be real with the ones that surround me, which honors them as it does me.

Gratitude. I am so lucky to have this beautiful child, these very real people that I belong to and who make me know what belongingness really is despite my painful “now”.  Despite what I am experiencing, something benevolent surrounds me.

It says, You live!

Letting Go

My Solstice wish, “letting go” is a mighty big order. Everywhere I look in my home there are reminders. Almost all my books are for teaching and most are curricular or Steiner.

Recent job interviews:

Cincinnati Early Learning Center is in a beautiful old building downtown across from Cincinnati’s biggest and best library. I met with a very elegantly dressed woman, who spoke well and seemed very interested in me. I spoke about Waldorf education and at the end of the interview asked about the salary, which she couldn’t tell me. After a few messages back and forth she stopped contacting me.

Dewey’s Pizza is a friendly “Leona’s” like restaurant in town with decent pizza. The manager who interviewed me was young enough to be my son. After a really honest conversation he told me, “I don’t think you would be a good fit…”

I interviewed at a Vet Specialist in Kentucky. A very professional vet spoke to me and seemed open to taking me on. I never called them back (very low hourly).

Yesterday I had a long interview on the phone with Dwellworks Destination Services, a relocation company for a part-time consulting job. After talking for a while I agreed to move forward and accept the position as an independent contractor. It may take a while to make a living but the hourly wage is excellent and it is a job I have lived for the last 8 years; I would be helping people relocate to a new home/city.

For the first time I am looking forward to filling out paperwork and feeling like I have a purpose. But is that a trap? Is having a job just an invention. Can’t I be established within myself without a job?

Shame

I publicly shamed someone. I admit it wasn't my brightest moment but it happened and I think that it meant something. About me. And shame.

First the "incident" as my daughter calls it. We were at our grocers and had just arrived back home from Maine and I was talking to my brother (on my cell phone)  who  had been taking care of our chickens. I spaced out and a man was angry that I was in his way in the grocery aisle. He said, "Move it dumb-ass! I am not going around you!" At first I didn't think he was talking to us and then he turned to me and said it again, "Dumb-ass!" Later, my daughter said he was talking to her at which point when I saw him again looking at us and shaking his head I said, "Were you swearing at us because we were in your way?" And then loudly, "You should be ashamed of yourself for speaking like that just because we were in your way!" Everyone turned around, including the security guy and I repeated myself, "Just because we were in his way!!!"

Shame. Do we shame others because we feel shame?

Changes

In September I left my job with no days notice, that is, my job no longer felt like employment I could sustain for even one more hour while maintaining my own personal integrity. In no days notice I had to say good-bye without actually saying good-bye to colleagues I loved and respected, to children I adored and admired, and to families I had thought of as part of my own community. What ensued was a feeling of utter powerlessness despite the fact that it was me who walked. The emotional storm that descended paralyzed me and made me feel isolated, invisible, and despicable. Within a month, I was physically paralyzed by double pneumonia followed by influenza/bronchitis from which I am still recovering.

The day-to-day requirements of a single mom (divorced in August ha! ha!) are unique. I think it is hard to imagine unless you have been in this situation. But I think it is enough to say that it is an urgent matter for me to be sound and strong, if only for the sake of my daughter, (and Lulu the beloved dog-sister-daughter).

Trying to come to terms with my financial situation (understanding that early retirement is not an option) has been an ongoing challenge. My depression, while real, undermines any chance of my physical recovery and will likely serve as a roadblock to any future job opportunities. But here I am projecting. I don’t know what this all signifies but I mean to find out and/or meet it if I can.

If you are reading this you are one of ten witnesses. The information you read is private. Please do not share. Please drop out at any time you feel uncomfortable. Please comment, "I am here." if you have read the post.

Thank you for your help in this very personal experiment.

Witness

I would like to conduct an experiment while at the same time attempting to be present to my current state of mind, soul, body and spirit.I petition at least 10 people who can commit to reading a daily blog post for four weeks. This means for 28 days I will post on my blog. Those who commit are not required to do anything but read the post and write in the comment section, “I am here.”- This is not something I read somewhere. It is something I am making up as part of my strong connection to a culture of witnessing. This is very different from judging or giving opinions/advice. It means you are present to that person’s experience. That is all. I will be beginning this blog posting on December 21, 2014 and ending on January 18, 2015.

On one side of our street sits St. Joseph's cemetery. In the colder months the wind howls off the gravestones. It is a perfect place to celebrate Halloween. Booty and I are writing a play with Gwinna the Wind Fairy,  Ug-Witch and Ghost kitty. All Booty's lines she is writing.

Ug-Witch: Along St. Joseph's Cemetery
We will scare up some ghosts.
The houses here are haunted.

Gwinna: So lets blow down some posts!

Royal of the forest. Royal of the back porch ledge. Royal of the toe nibblers. Royal of the furniture sprawl. Royal of the purr engine. All these Royals and many more. We will long for you and feel the lack of your generous being-ness and know we have been blessed.

Good bye Royal. We loved your loving, handsome ways.

Good bye dear friend. We will miss your handsome face and loving ways!

One week ago today I began my journey in letting go of my beautiful class of Third Graders and the school. It has been a strange and painful week. Today at about 9 am I received a knock on my door from my neighbor telling me someone struck my cat Royal, with their car. When I went out he was still in the middle of the road, very much dead. He was a mess.

Royal was a true man. Loyal. Handsome. A natural hunter. Relaxed and playful. He was only 1 1/2 years old. And very much loved by Sanbate, Lulu and little J.

And me. 

I just finished painting the front deck. I am really enjoying the color. A couple of red and white byzantine hued benches and it will be complete. Today, due to employment difficulties, I had to leave the ac off and sweat it out. Sanbate and I collected black walnuts, shelled them and left them in the basement to dry. We will vice them open and see how they taste. Maybe even make some pesto with our basil.My next door neighbor even offered up her internet, (as I will be without until I am employed again).

I want to paint this.

The idea of "you" and "I" dissolves

I am waiting for the idea of "you" and "I" to dissolve. When I become enlightened it will and nothing that happens to or around me will seem unfathomable. Like:

Moving to Cincinnati from the east bay of California for a great job teaching in a fabulous Waldorf School and buying a house and getting divorced and then a year and a half later leaving the job that created so much change. Now what? I just purchased my first house and just became a single mom and find myself unemployed.

Is this opportunity knocking? Will it come pounding down my door?

Poison ivy has certainly come and is definitely breaking down the barrier of my physical home, i.e. my skin.

Otherwise I am healthy. I just put 4 new tires on my car. My new front deck is almost all finished except for some stain and paint. The sun has been very cheery in the blue, fall sky. All seven chickens are laying.

But regardless it feels like the archai Michael has sort of ditched me and the dragon is comfortably settling in. Welcome 49th year!

Wild turkeys across the street at St. Joseph's cemetery.