My Inadvertent New Year's Resolution

For the past several years, I’ve made a habit out of not making New Year’s Resolutions.  That way when I’m unable to “stop eating chocolate,” for example, I won’t feel like a complete failure.  This year was no different.  

This week, however, while quietly sitting on my mat, the verse, “What you seek is seeking you,” appeared in my thoughts.

I often see these words on various yoga websites, merchandise and greeting cards; the quote credited to someone named Rumi.  But, who the heck is Rumi and what did he mean when he said, “What you seek is seeking you?"

I decided to really sit and contemplate what it was I was seeking.  It didn’t take long for the word “PEACE” to make it’s way to the forefront of my mind.  I often fantasize about spending time away in a cabin reading and writing without the distraction of devices—completely unplugged and therefore totally present, at ease and full of peace.

As I let my fantasy play out in my head, I had an ephiphany—I don’t need a cabin in order to disconnect. I simply need to put down the phone, turn the TV off, and find a quiet space within my current environment.  And so inadvertently I created a New Year’s Resolution:  Less devices + more time in quiet reflection equals PEACE. 

Now on the question of, “Who is Rumi?”, I did a little research and pulled out a few key points from Wikipedia.  

Rumi was a 13th century Persian, Sunni Muslim poet, jurist, Islamic Scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.

So like the book, “If you give a mouse a cookie,” I now needed to research the word mystic, in order to truly understand the various roles Rumi played, especially as it was used in this context.  

According to Wikipedia, Mysticism is popularly known as becoming one with God, but may refer to any kind of ecstasy or altered state of consciousness which is given a religious or spiritual meaning. 

Rumi's public life as an Islamic jurist and teacher began around the year 1241, and it was during this period of time that he travelled to Damascus and spent several years. While there, Rumi met a dervish, a Muslim Sufi who had taken a vow of poverty, named Shams. That meeting completely changed his life. From an accomplished teacher and jurist, he was transformed into an ascetic, adopting a frugal lifestyle and renouncing material possessions and physical pleasures in order to focus on his spiritual practice. 

The irony that my first thought was, "I need a cabin in order to find peace," is not lost on me; a stark contrast of the very definition of asceticism. 

On the night of December 5th, in the year 1248, as Rumi and Shams were talking, Shams was called to the back door. He went out and was never seen again.  Rumi expressed his love and grief for his missing friend and spiritual teacher in an outpouring of lyrical poems.  He went out searching for Shams and it was upon this journey that he came to the following realization:

Why should I seek? 

I am the same as he. 

His essence speaks through me.  

I have been looking for myself!

While sitting quietly reflecting on the word “peace” and what it means to me, I recalled another famous quote, “Peace comes from within, do not seek without.”  These wise words are attributed to another spiritual leader,  Siddartha Gautama otherwise known as Buddha.

For the past several years, I have intentionally not made a New Year’s resolution, so who knows if this inadvertent New Year’s resolution of unplugging and sitting quietly will last more than the week, but I did succeed in writing this new blog post…so yay!

                                             

                                            Peace In.  Peace Out.

Cracked

Last Friday, it was announced to the world that singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen had died.  One of the songs he was best known for is Hallelujah, which has been rearranged and re-recorded multiple times.  After he died, there was a quote by him floating around on various social media sites which said, “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

After the results of last week’s presidential election, I felt more than a little “cracked.”  Devastated. Horrified. Gutted. Suffering with a complete loss of faith in humanity.  Each of these accurately describing my mental and emotional state prior to waking up Friday morning and finding this lovely quote on my Facebook feed.  

It’s amazing how the universe works—always sending the exact message I need—exactly when I need it. 

"There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."

I would argue that the exact opposite may be true as well:  If light gets in through the cracks, it must also be released through the cracks.  Our light, our soul, shines from the inside out. If we feed it with positive affirmations, positive thoughts, and love, we will release love back into the universe. Without suffering, we can not know happiness.

It reminded me of the lotus flower and how it only blooms in the mud—it’s beauty in stark contrast to it’s surroundings.  Without the mud, there would be no lotus.  

So the next time you’re feeling a little “cracked”—just remember to let it go and let your light shine.

Change Your Perspective

Recently I attended a Kid’s Yoga Teacher Training at Asheville Yoga Center in Asheville, North Carolina.  A lot of topics were discussed over the course of the training, but one topic that continued to make an appearance in our conversations was about the pressure that children feel from being ever connected to the world of social media, how they believe they must respond immediately when their phone buzzes, and how as a whole, they spend most of their  daylight hours in front of a screen and less and less time outdoors.  JaneAnne Tager, led the discussions and emphasized the importance of using nature themes in our classes as a way for children to disconnect, leave the world of technology behind, and become more grounded using tools found in nature.  

One morning at the beginning of class, we were instructed to go on a short walk, find a leaf and bring it back to class.  I believe the point of the exercise was to help us get out of our heads and find a connection with the universe, returning to class more grounded than when we left. As I walked out the door of the studio, I imagined being on a treasure hunt, looking for the perfect leaf—the one that spoke to me; the one that calmed and soothed me.  Being early September in North Carolina, however, the temperature was still peaking in the eighties and nineties during the day.  The leaves had not yet started to change color and the only leaves on the ground were small and lifeless.  Feeling uninspired, I continued to walk further and further away from the studio.  I began to feel desperate.

“Finding a leaf should not be this difficult, I thought.  Why do you always make everything so complicated?  Just pick up a damn leaf and be done with it!”  And just as I was about to listen to that little voice inside my head, another voice spoke.  This one said, “Why are you only looking at the ground?  Look up!”  Obediently, I turned my gaze toward the sky and that’s when I saw it.

With it’s long, slender, bean-like fruit, I recognized it right away.  Magnificent in size and stature, it dwarfed all the trees around it, offering a canopy of protection with it’s abundance of large, over-sized leaves.  It was the exact same tree that stood in my front yard as a child!  

As I approached the tree, I noticed two shopping carts full of possessions parked under it’s shelter.  The owners were not home so I carefully proceeded to the tree and plucked a single leaf from a low hanging branch, being mindful not to disturb the refuge the tree provided for it’s occupants.

As I walked back to the classroom, I felt humbled.  I have not seen a tree like that since the day my dad had it removed, deeming it undesirable, along with all the mulberry trees that dropped their gifts in the yard staining our feet as we played in the grass.  What are the odds that just as I was about to give up on finding a leaf that I felt a personal connection to, that a Catalpa tree would appear before me?  

I was the last person to return to the classroom and felt a tad bit conscientious knowing all eyes were on me.  The room was silent except for an audible *gasp* that could be heard as I laid my elephantine leaf to rest alongside the treasures that everyone else had gathered on their journey. In the center of the space with our mats spread like spokes on a wheel, the flora and fauna resembled and offering on an alter.

I’ve been thinking about that moment a lot since it happened and wondering how much of my life I’ve spent looking at the ground, not making a connection with anyone or anything around me, when what I was looking for was right in front of me all along.

If you can’t find what you're looking for…CHANGE YOUR PERSPECTIVE!  

At the beginning of the training, Jane Anne stated that one of the goals of the weekend was to help us become reacquainted with our inner child.   With each exercise, I found myself being transported back to my childhood, a time in my life that was filled with happy memories, uncomplicated and innocent.  While this was not intentional, I also do not think it was a coincidence.  I finished the training feeling more grounded than I have in several months and freshly inspired to be the best mom, wife, and yoga teacher I can be, to make a difference in the lives of children who may not have as happy a childhood as me, and to write.  This is the third of a three-part blog post.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Recently I attended a Kid’s Yoga Teacher Training at Asheville Yoga Center in Asheville, North Carolina.  A lot of topics were discussed over the course of the training, but one topic that continued to make an appearance in our conversations was about the pressure that children feel from being ever -connected to the world of social media, how they believe they must respond immediately when their phones buzz, and how as a whole, they spend most of their  daylight hours in front of a screen and less and less time outdoors.  JaneAnne Tager, led the discussions and emphasized the importance of using nature themes in our classes as a way for children to disconnect, leave the world of technology at the door, and become more grounded using tools found in mother nature.  

At the end of day one, we came back to our mats in their circular formation, set up perfectly for sharing thoughts, ideas, and memories.  JaneAnne closed out the day by asking the group to share what their favorite season is and why.  

Without hesitation, I knew the answer to this question, but this time I didn’t share out loud.  This time, we didn’t go around the circle one by one.  People voluntarily spoke at will and by the time the umpteenth person described the beauty of the changing leaves and the crispness of the air, I figured they’d pretty much covered it.

But just thinking about this season transported me back to 404 W. Exchange Street, my childhood home with it’s large picture windows and wrap around porch.  The sounds, the sights, and the smells still strong in my mind.  The crunch of leaves on the ground, the scraping of the metal rake as it crossed the sidewalk escorting the leaves on their journey from yard to driveway, the whoosh of the leaves as they flew through the air before safely joining their brothers and sisters on the mountain of foliage my dad had painstakingly raked all afternoon.  And then laughter, I can hear laughter as we ran and jumped into the big pile of leaves.  My dad would rake them up again, and again we would run and dive into the sea of leaves.  Thud.  They always looked so inviting, so much fluffier than they actually were and I still remember feeling shocked and surprised upon landing.  I expected to land on mattress soft, but instead landed on packed dirt hard.

This was the way it was every year.  He’d rake, we’d play and then he’d burn, standing guardian over the flames until there was nothing but a few ashes left.  For a few short weeks every fall, the smell of smoke would waft throughout the tiny town where I grew up, unceremoniously marking the end of fall.

In Michigan snow was inevitable.  The only question each year was whether or not we’d be wearing boots and coats over our Halloween costumes.

Crisp air, colorful leaves, hayrides, carving pumpkins, warm sweaters, and sap buckets hanging from tree to tree round out my childhood memories of my favorite season every year.  

FALL.  

The most wonderful time of the year! 

At the beginning of the training, JaneAnne stated that one of the goals of the weekend was to help us become reacquainted with our inner child.   With each exercise, I found myself being transported back to my childhood, a time in my life that was filled with happy memories, uncomplicated and innocent.  While this was not intentional, I also do not think it was a coincidence.  I finished the training feeling more grounded than I have in several months and freshly inspired to be the best mom, wife, and yoga teacher I can be, to make a difference in the lives of children who may not have as happy a childhood as me, and to write.  This is the second blog post of a three-part series.

Two bucks a day

Recently I attended Kid’s Yoga Teacher Training at Asheville Yoga Center in Asheville, North Carolina.  A lot of topics were discussed over the course of the training, but one topic that continued to make an appearance in our conversations was about the pressure that children feel from being ever connected to the world of social media, how they believe they must respond immediately when their phone buzzes, and how as a whole, they spend most of their daylight hours in front of a screen and less and less time outdoors.  JaneAnne Tager, led the discussions and emphasized the importance of using nature themes in our classes as a way for children to disconnect, leave technology at the door, and become more grounded using tools found in mother nature. 

We began the four day training in typical fashion with an ice breaker activity, going around the room making introductions.  But after stating our name and where we were from, the information we were asked to share was a bit more atypical.  We were asked to recount a “memorable time in nature” and then state one word to describe the event.

As a side note:  I struggle with any activity where I feel pressure to speak in front of a large group of people.  When I’ve never met the people, the stress is even greater.   I often spend the entire time trying to think of something clever to say for the inevitable moment when the baton will be passed to me, which leaves me unable to listen to what is being said by the other participants.  And while this activity was no different in terms of what it was trying to accomplish, this time I knew immediately and without hesitation what “memorable event in nature” I would be able to share with the group.

People described canoeing on lazy rivers, hiking in exotic places, the delicious reward of mushroom hunting, experiencing a herd of migrating caribou in the Alaskan wilderness and climbing Half-Dome.  They used words like:  calm, majestic, humble, and serene to illustrate their experiences.

When it was my turn, I recalled an event from my childhood.  I was eight years old when my grandparents took me with them on their annual fishing trip to Canada.

One afternoon, midway through the week, we were out on the river in our small, fiberglass boat. Without warning, the skies turned black as storm clouds rolled in.  Lightening began to crackle and flash and rain poured down on us filling the boat.  My grandfather worked furiously to start the engine, but received nothing but silence for his efforts.

This man, who I absolutely adored, had a really bad two buck a day habit. He believed that $2 worth of gas would still get him just as far in the 1970’s, as it did in the sixties, as it did in the fifties.  He ended up walking a lot.  But on this particular day he was not on dry land and my grandmother became hysterical under the circumstances.

On board, he had an oar…not a paddle, an oar—for a row boat.  But since we were not in a row boat, he used the oar to paddle the boat like a canoe.  Only we weren’t in a canoe.  We were in a boat much wider than a canoe. So he had to stand.  He paddled furiously on one side and then switched to the other side, making progress in inches.  
  

We were not close to shore.  His hysterical wife frantically bailed water from the boat using an old coffee can, that had once held the worms all while his grand-daughter sobbed.  And somehow, paddling, paddling, paddling he managed to get us safely to shore.  

We were back out on the river the next day, probably with another $2 worth of gas in the tank.

Nature and me—me and nature.  We have a tenuous relationship at best.

My name is FAWN and my word is FEAR.

At the beginning of the training, JaneAnne stated that one of the goals of the weekend was to help us become reacquainted with our inner child.   With each exercise, I found myself being transported back to my childhood, a time in my life that was filled with happy memories, uncomplicated and innocent.  While this was not intentional, I also do not think it was a coincidence.  I finished the training feeling more grounded than I have in several months and freshly inspired to be the best mom, wife, and yoga teacher I can be, to make a difference in the lives of children who may not have as happy a childhood as me, and to write.  This is the first blog post of a three-part series.

Kid's Yoga, M&M's and the politics of respect.

WARNING:  This post is a teensy bit political.  It contains my opinion on respecting each other and to quote Donald Trump, how to “Make America Great Again.”  P.S. It has nothing to do with building walls.

So how can a post about kid’s yoga and M&M’s be political?  In today’s world, anything can be twisted into something political, like the very word itself.  According to dictionary.com, “political” is an adjective with six different definitions.  Each definition has a unifying commonality of or pertaining to the word “government”.  Over the years, the meaning of the word “political” has shape shifted.  Rather than being by the people, for the people, and of the people, it has slithered into darkness, something to be reviled—lumping politicians into a stereotype of dishonesty and corruption.

Ask ten different kids what they believe the best M&M candy color is and you are certain to receive several different responses:  red, yellow, blue, brown—light or dark—it doesn’t matter.  (Keep in mind that regardless of color, they all taste the same.)  Then when they are feeling quite confident and happy with their answer, tell them they are all wrong.  Their color of choice is not the best color, because your favorite color is green and therefore, green is the best color.  Then take it a step further and tell them that because they don’t believe the same way as you, you can no longer be friends.  In fact, you are now enemies.  Watch their innocent faces contort into confusion and sadness.

See what I did there?  I used a sweet little anecdote about M&M’s, a classic American candy, to illustrate how silly it is to hate someone for simply having a different belief.  Yes…it is that simple.  Regardless if the topic is religion, political party affiliation, gun control, health care, or M&M’s, spewing hatred toward someone because they believe differently is SILLY—a term even a child understands.

I believe it is imperative people be allowed to voice their opinions, even when I don’t share their view, but I also believe it is imperative to conduct oneself in a respectful and civilized manner, and therefore I recently and for the first time, “unfriended” a FB friend for the following (unedited) post:  

“Ok I have been quiet long enough. I can no longer sit here and listen to this garbage about Syria and these refugees. Listen to the crap about ISIS. Here is the real deal. We no longer can trust any of them...not one. That sounds harsh but I don't care. If they come here again and pull an attack I promise you WE THE PEOPLE will hunt them down ourselves. Our worthless, peace of shit, coward, terrorist president is doing nothing but we will. To all you liberal pieces of shit I have an idea.... Go over there with all your huggy bullshit and live among these animals for awhile see if changes your views. It's so easy to sit on your couch and give love and crap to these animals you know nothing about. The days of these liberal views and this so called President are numbered. Than maybe we can get back to being the proud and powerful nation we once were. And before all you ass hat liberal democrats respond on here to this don't bother. Everyone is sick of your bullshit and no ones listening. I and millions of others fought on foreign dirt for this country and by God we will do it again on this dirt. So in closing.....STAND UP AMERICANS TAKE BACK OUR COUNTRY AND PURGE THIS SICKNESS KNOWN AS LIBERAL DEMOCRATS!!!! GOD BLESS THE USA🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸”

I did not take “unfriending” this person lightly.  We were baptized in the same church, studied from the same Catechism, and took communion together throughout our young adulthood. 

Am I a hypocrite for clicking the “unfriend” button?  After all, I had just stated that I believe people are entitled to their opinions and that just because someone does not share my world view does not mean they should be my enemy.  In eighth grade Civics class we learned about Freedom of Speech and the other 9 amendments to the Constitution that make up the Bill of Rights.  We were also taught that those rights we as American citizens share, do not extend to infinity, but only to the point where they begin to impede on our neighbors rights.  I felt violated by this post.  It contained so much hate and venom that I believed if I had remained “friends” with the author, I would be submissively guilty of condoning the words within.  

So how do we make America great again?  Like Whitney Houston, sang, “The children are our future.  Teach them well and let them lead the way.”  Teach them to love and respect themselves and their peers, regardless of skin color, religious affiliation or M&M color preference.  And for goodness sakes, teach them to not refer to the person who holds the highest office in the land as a “worthless, piece of shit, coward, terrorist,”  because that’s not going to get it done.

I am not a person of power.  I do not have a large audience or celebrity status.  I am a wife and a mother, a sister and a daughter, a friend, a neighbor and a yoga instructor.  I am limited in my ability to defend against those that believe it is okay to spread hatred and bigotry, so I will continue to slowly spread my message of love and goodwill toward one another…one breath at a time.

And if you’d like to share some M&M’s, I’ll even let you have the best color…GREEN!

Life in Pieces

June 2015.  That was the last time I published a blog post.  6 long months ago.  It was also the last time, I wrote anything more than my daily "To Do" list.  I have been completely constipated--creatively speaking.  

June 2015.  We closed on a new house.  Not a new, new house--relatively old in fact--1989, but new to us.  In the beginning, we were excited.  The "new to us" house sat on Lake Norman and  I imagined myself sitting on the deck for hours sipping wine and writing, writing, writing as the water soothed my central nervous system and sparked my creativity.  I fantasized about boating and kayaking and paddle boarding.  In my minds eye, I could see my newly defined abs from all that paddling!  And most of all, I felt certain that as a family our quality of life together would increase exponentially.  The kids would be so excited to live on a lake, they'd willingly leave behind the digital world they live in and spend time frolicking in the surf.

But almost immediately, as we put our house on the market to sell, anxiety took hold of my heart and began to squeeze the breath right out of me.  The children were not allowed to sit on the furniture for fear of crushing a perfectly puffed pillow.  They were not allowed to eat inside the house.  All snacks and meals were served outside on the deck.  I stopped cooking meals.  Everything was take-out so that counters stayed clean and dishes stayed done.  I've always thought I walked extremely close to the edge of insanity.  But during this time, I jumped right off the fricking cliff.

Panic set in when the old house, which was actually newer than the new house, didn't sell within the first month.  That's right.  We closed on the new house in mid-June with no offer on the old house.  We owned two houses (and two mortgages) and the real pisser was that the kids were not even excited about moving or living on the lake.  In fact, the day the moving truck arrived,  Numero Dos threw himself on the ground.  Flailing and sobbing, he exclaimed, "My whole life is a downgrade!"

A downgrade!

Can you imagine how spoiled my children must be that moving to a house on a lake is a downgrade? Of course the truth is, he wasn't exactly wrong.  From it's brass fixtures, to it's one-piece fiberglass shower inserts, to the popcorn ceilings in the basement--this house was a downgrade, relatively speaking.  But it was still on the freaking water.  That's got to count for something, right!?

Wrong.  We experienced one disappointing set back after another.  The flooring company, which we hired to refinish the hardwood floors, flooded the house before we even moved in resulting in the decimation of the main floor powder room and the basement bedroom.  6 months later, both rooms are still barren wastelands.  The toilets were not a standard 12" on center and now sit two inches away from the walls.  The washer and dryer I purchased were too big for the space resulting in the loss of the closet doors and there was no garbage disposal.  None.  So, take the stress of not selling the first house, add in a slew of installation mishaps, multiply it by the gut-wrenching sound of your child sobbing everyday after school because we left a neighborhood he loved and you've got a recipe for depression, anger, frustration and regret.

And thus I didn't write.  Writing about anything other than my true feelings seemed disingenuous and really who wants to listen to me whine about how much it sucks that we chose to buy a house on a lake?  Does anyone feel sorry for me?  Shit, I don't even feel sorry for me.  And besides, I had the perfect solution.

We needed a boat!  A boat would make everything better.  What good is it to live on a lake if you can't even get out on the water?  And so we bought a boat.  But, you know what?  The boat did not make us feel better.  Not even by a little bit, because not only did we discover that our lack of knowledge around a boat only led to more frustration, but we also discovered that our boat lift didn't work.  Chalk up one more disappointment to the tune of $8500 in favor of the house.

Fast forward to this week--the last week of 2015, I stumbled upon this blog post.  I am going to post it in it's entirety as it is the catalyst for me picking up pen and paper this week...and I just happen to think it's really, really, good!

Big Dreams Are Made Of Little Pieces

by Grant Andrew

COO IE Dawson International

I’ve been thinking about breathing lately. 
How it just seems to happen.
We don’t think about it until it gets labored or we are short of a breath or two.
But under everything in our lives, is breathing.
It is a kind of ground for consciousness.
It is keeping the lights on.
The quality of your day is dependent on ~20,000 breaths a day.
Our world is built of pieces. Like breaths.

The quality of your internet connection reflects how well the packets are moving.
Your nutritional intake is dependent on bites of food.
Big ideas are made of little flashes moving through your brain up to 268 miles per hour. (Sparks move inside you.)(Baby, you’re a fireworkfly)
We are pieces of pieces.
Companies, communities, and causes are made of people.
We see things as monolithic – solid, whole, together, but when you really get inside something, there are always pieces.
Atoms, Lego blocks, letters, and slow-twitch muscle fibers. All pieces.
What we accomplish is made of pieces too. The life you make, the work you do, the relationships you’re a part of…made of pieces.
It is tempting this time of year to teeter between euphoria and despair.
In every life, in every year, there’s always a hope for more. We have almost infinite capacity for hope and longing, so we want more from everything. Standing at the end of such a clear block of time, it’s not difficult to look back and despair for all that wasn’t, didn’t, or won’t be.
Breathe.
Turning our gaze forward, it’s easy to imagine the next year differently. So much that will be. All our hopes/dreams/longings manifested. Big things birthed, big breaks healed, big holes filled. Such a glorious and euphoric view, the future is.
The truth is more pedestrian. The future and the past are all just pieces. The same pieces, actually, that you have right now.
Breathe.  Swallow.  Blink.  Think.
That’s what makes this life beautiful and difficult.
Everything is small, simple, easy. The next right move, the next deep breath, the next right word.
But everything worth doing is difficult because it is a million right moves, a thousand deep breathes, pages and pages and pages of the next right words.
Life is made of pieces. We traffic in pieces. We are made of pieces. We are pieces. All we get is PIECES.
So even now, good traveler, as you stand in this present, this piece, at the moment when the line of NOW and the end of a big block of time happen to align, don’t get lost.
Your task today is easy. Your task for this next year is simple:
Take control of the pieces.
That’s it.
Think of all the big dreams you have. The moments you long for. The ones that will take away all your breaths. Break them down. To pieces. Look at them, so cute and cuddly. The atomic layer of your deepest hopes. Just little pieces. The tiniest manifestation of your dreams.
Look at this next year. 

Don’t see it whole. Don’t see it in quarters or months.
See it in seconds. Minutes. Moments.
Set your intentions high – aim for your Everest – then come back to the present, set your compass true, and a take a step.
Take a breath. Swallow. Blink. Think.
2016 is coming. And 17. And 18. Don’t worry about those.
We are made of pieces, we make pieces, pieces make us.
Please make good pieces. The world is hungry for your hearts. 
Enjoy the journey.

Throughout all the stress, anger, disappointment and regret, rather than lean on my yoga practice for strength, I ran from it.  In fact, I practically hid.  Yoga is quiet and calm.  It requires stillness of the mind and body.  But it takes time to sit in stillness, and I didn't have any time.  I was too busy trying to sell one house and prepare to move into another house.  There was too much cleaning to do.  And then there was too much packing to do, and then unpacking, moving, worrying, and mostly feeling sorry for myself.  Do you know how much energy is required to feel sorry for oneself?  I had nothing left for my yoga practice.  I didn't even have time to sit and breathe.

And then I came across this lovely, poetic blog post and the first line caught my attention:  I've been thinking about breathing lately.  I used to tell any one that would listen, that for me, the magic of yoga was in the breath.  And yet for the past six months, I have been holding my breath, drowning in regret and self-loathing.

"The future and the past are all just pieces. The same pieces, actually, that you have RIGHT NOW.  Life is made of pieces. We traffic in pieces. We are made of pieces. We are pieces. All we get is PIECES.  Our world is built of pieces--Like breaths." 

There is an old zen saying:  "You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day, unless you are too busy; then you should sit for an hour."

This year, I plan to breathe more, regret less and break everything down into small, delicious, bite-sized pieces.

There are so many morals to this story.  I know I don't need to type them in black and white.  As a post script, we received an offer on the old house mid-July and closed early August.  One week later, we made our first payment on the the new house, being spared the hardship of making two mortgage payments in the same month.

I am sending up prayers of thanksgiving right this second as I am once again reminded of how everything always works out in the end.

Happy 2016.  

May your year be filled with lots of happy pieces!