Four decades of red shoe regrets, resolved

I've had a love hate relationship with red shoes for so many years ... stalking them, loving them, lusting for them, even buying them again and again, only to find myself unable to wear them because they're just way too red. There are at least three pairs stashed away right now in a box in the garage that I've never worn, even though part of me still loves looking at them. I even get them out to try on every once in awhile.

Anyway. Today I break my long blog silence to announce that the curse has been lifted: I've found some red shoes that I love, that I can actually wear. Check 'em out!

OK, so maybe they're not the height of fashion ... I actually worried as I was ordering them that they might look like clown shoes, or children's shoes. But they don't (well, maybe a tiny bit, but in a good way). I'm happy with them. They're red enough to be red, without being TOO red. I love the slight platform, the soft thick leather, the comfortable strap. And you can't tell from this picture but they're very wide across the toes, just like my feet. I plan to wear them all summer.

What else? I still think about blogging every day, but so much of what I think of saying seems kind of unnecessary to say. That's a spell that seems to have been broken lately too – my decades-long compulsion to document my experiences, rather than simply living them. I think that practice helped me, more than anything else I've done, to learn how to really inhabit my own life. Writing it all down – and paying close attention to myself, so I can be accurate in my account – has taught me to love it all. I read something the other day that rang true to me:

The great Japanese film director Akira Kurosawa once said, "An artist is someone who never averts his eyes." In 1923, the Great Kanto earthquake killed 100,000 people and destroyed Tokyo. Kurosawa was just 13 years old and walked amongst the devastation of human and animal corpses. When he tried to turn away, his older brother instructed him not to avert his eyes. As a result, Kurosawa came to believe that looking at the whole of life was a way to defeat fear.

That's a big part of what I've been doing until lately with this blog, and with journaling in general. Learning to defeat my fears. I can't say they're totally defeated, or that I expect them ever to be, but I do feel safe in my life and in the world right now, and that makes me feel generous and strong, like I have more to offer than this inward-turning exploration of my own ego. I guess that's why I'm not writing much right now. I'm feeling more like expressing myself in other ways.

While I'm quoting people, here's another quote I've been meditating on for awhile, that I feel I've finally internalized to the point where it's truly how I see the world. I have it on a little card on the refrigerator and have been painting it in calligraphy on little cards to leave around town ... just for fun, and maybe to share the blessing it's been to me:

Hm, what else? It does seem like a long time since I've written anything down. Just for utilitarian purposes, I'll go ahead and document some highlights, in no particular order.

1. I'm about half way done winding down with the antidepressants. They did their job for me again, and I'm grateful. Once again however they did cause me to gain weight – about 20 lbs since August – and that is not good for me. Actually, I don't think they directly caused the weight gain; what seems to have happened (again) is that they make me sleepy and hungry, and hungry specifically for carbohydrates, so that it's very hard to exercise and eat like I know I should. So I'm weaning myself off them and forcing myself to do what I need to, even though I really, really don't feel like it.

2. The job is still going great. I don't think it's possible to overstate how much I love it. This, too, I think, is a huge part of why I'm feeling so good these days.

3. Not that everything is perfect. I don't feel like cataloguing everything I don't like, though. It's all just normal stuff, no different than what most people have to deal with in one way or another.

4. We found out last week that Tater has diabetes insipidus. It isn't the same thing as diabetes mellitus ("sugar" diabetes – the kind I have) – it's caused by a deficiency of a different hormone, and isn't life-threatening; it mainly just means his kidneys can't concentrate urine properly so he needs to drink a ton of water, and pee a lot (that's how I realized something was going on; he was just drinking soooo much water). We're starting him on a medication that should help. Other than that, he's still doing great, enjoying his food, toys and walks, and even inviting Bea to wrestle with him every once in awhile, just like a big puppy. He'll be 13 on June 1.

5. Bea is just a wonderful, wonderful little dog. We're doing an agility class together, and she's also evolved into a major ball hound. That's fun for both of us and makes it easy to exercise her – I just throw the ball for her for 20 minutes a couple of times a day and that about does it for her.

6. I think I am officially turning into the nutty middle-aged dog lady. And I'm pretty much OK with that.

7. My latest obsession is finding the perfect underwear to wear under summer dresses. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to figure out how to make it myself, and I have a plan. It's based on a pair of ladies' old-fashioned silk combination underwear from the 20s that I found at a vintage shop a few years ago, and is basically a full slip with a camisole top and a long-ish split skirt at the bottom, and possibly some kind of drop flap at the crotch (this is the part I'm still working out, how the crotch needs to work in combination with the longer legs. The piece I have is more like tap pants on the bottom, but I wanted something that will work better on a bike). The goal is to create something that is loose, cool and comfortable, with no clinging waist band or straps to fall down, and with two legs so you can ride a bike without worrying about the whole thing flying up over your head.

8. We've been putting up birdhouses all over the property this spring and as of this weekend we have over 90% occupancy.

9. My early morning yoga experiment lasted exactly one day, at which point I pulled a muscle in my back (in an un-yoga-related incident) and was out of commission for almost two weeks. By that time I'd basically given up on the whole idea of my spring practice period, and decided to just do what I can, when I can. I'm still going to my class at the gym and practicing a little bit at home each day. I want to do more and when I can, I will!

10. The early rising thing was not a total loss, however. I'm learning how to go to bed earlier and gradually it's getting easier to wake up earlier without such a struggle. Part of the problem, I've realized recently, is Mr. A's schedule – he's up between 3 and 4 a.m. every week day, and even though I sleep in my own room, with ear plugs, I always seem to wake up at least partially whenever he's up and about. Synchronizing my sleep schedule with his, at least a little, has helped some; instead of going to bed at 11 or 12, I've been trying to be asleep no later than 10 p.m., which gives me a chance to get into and out of one good solid cycle before he wakes me up at 3. It's not a perfect solution but I think it's better than before.

11. I got through the whole winter without knitting a single thing and am now getting involved in summer sweaters, and tiny little pink sandals for newborn babies in Japan. This is not just any baby, but the baby of my first true love from high school, who's lived there for almost a decade now and is having a daughter in just a couple of weeks with his adorable Japanese wife. Apparently nobody does baby showers or shares baby clothes over there, so they are having to outfit the entire enterprise alone ... Except, they're not really alone – I'm crocheting furiously .... Wishing I had had the time and inclination to do more of this kind of thing when my own nieces and nephews were being born, but I guess better late than never.

12. Speaking of family, I've been more homesick for my brothers and sisters and parents over the last several months than at any other time I can remember since I left home at 18. I'm not sure why. I just love them so much, and miss them so much, and wonder sometimes why I'm still living out here so far away ... except that I love my family here – Mr. A and the dogs, and my friends – and I love my job, and the landscape, and the plants and trees and beautiful clean fresh air ..... Anyway, I'll be traveling to Utah at least once or twice this summer, and possibly to a few other places too. Looking very, very forward to that.

P.S. One more thing – I'm on the lookout for an extremely wide-brimmed straw hat, for gardening. The biggest one I have right now is about 18" across and I would love to have one that is at least two feet across, or even wider. Almost like a parasol for the head! Oh wait – maybe this? I'm actually picturing something more a little rougher, more rustic ... Let me know if you see something like that, won't you?

A soundtrack for winter

Apropos of nothing but my need for constant reminders, I give to you: the new wallpaper on my phone.

I discovered this band recently and have been keeping this song on repeat as I move about my days. Really loving the way it's coloring my life as the fall moves into winter. Click here to download the file.

Not too much happening on the job front. Nothing at all happening, in fact. I'm OK with it at the moment; this time of year is so slow and quiet and inward-turning for me – despite the holiday rush – that I'm mostly just grateful to have the time, for a change, to experience the shifting seasons out in the weather and under the sky, rather than from inside a building. It's been beautiful.

Seems like every day there's something I want to write about, and then suddenly the day is over and I haven't written anything. That's probably OK too.

So, what have I been doing? Reconnecting with a few old friends and a couple of new ones, too. Getting ready for Christmas. Dealing with some financial matters that I've been meaning to organize for a very long time. Taking lots of dog walks. Roasting lots of chickens, and making lots of soup. Over the weekend I went to a great daylong program at Spirit Rock, on the topic of neuroplasticity and the brain, and how meditation practice and consciously choosing to focus on positive experiences can help the brain heal from neurological and psychological trauma, including post-traumatic stress and traumatic brain injuries like strokes. They also spent a lot of time talking about anxiety and teaching specific practices to help protect the brain from the damage (yes, actual measurable damage) that can occur when brain tissues are exposed to prolonged stress of any kind.

One simple practice that I especially love is to make a point, six or more times a day, to focus on a pleasant experience for at least 30 seconds. It could be anything – I think of the smell when I peel one of my beloved Satsuma tangerines, or the way it feels to snuggle up with Tater in the morning. Or the way his adorable legs move when we're out walking, and his ears are bouncing up and down, and he turns around to look at me and smile. The point is that "neurons that fire together, wire together" so the more you run your brain in the pathways of positive experience, the more connected those pathways become, so that the brain actually grows increasingly capable of experiencing feelings of happiness, contentment and well-being. And they're not just making it all up – as a neurologist and a neuropsychologist, they know their stuff. They've also written a book, which I've ordered from the library and am excited about reading.

Another sort of interesting thing that happened recently is that I ran across a folder containing printouts of all the email I wrote to a nice variety of friends and family over a period of about 11 months in 1996-7, when I was in the process of getting out of my marriage. Reading through it all (it's a fairly tall stack) was a bittersweet experience. There were so many things I'd forgotten about, especially having to do with my job (which was far from secure that year) and the clarity I felt that it was going to be really difficult to make a good living here with the skills and experience I had at the time. I've sort of been soldiering on ever since, teaching myself to do lots of different things to stay afloat but never feeling quite secure enough to make a real investment in the kind of training I would need to actually thrive.

It still scares me to think of what I'm going to need to do to change direction at this point. First of all, I don't really know what I need to do. So I need to get clear on that. And whatever it is, it's going to take some money to get there. More than anything else it terrifies me to think of going into debt, even for something as important as a degree or certification that could help me get a truly decent job for the first time in ... well, awhile. Possibly there are grants and other ways to fund my next steps, or maybe I'll have to find another job first and then work and go to school at the same time. Yet another thing to figure out.

Somehow I feel like I've said all this before. Probably many times. Possibly even in the last post I wrote before this one. As I was reminded while reading those letters, and other things I've written since I was a little kid, I tend to repeat myself over and over and over again ... My core concerns and emotional tendencies have remained basically unchanged for at least 35 of my 44 years. In one way, that seems kind of depressing. In another way, I guess at least I know more or less what I'm dealing with when one of those fears or mental roadblocks arises for the 16 millionth time. And every year I feel I get better at working with the conditions I've been given.

Anyway. One way or another, I'll get through it.

Last night I was in the checkout line at the market and noticed my favorite checker's stand was closed. Then I noticed the conveyer belt was covered with flowers and garlands of nuts and berries. Then I noticed a picture of him on a little easel, and I turned around to raise my eyebrows at the kid who was checking me out and he said, "Yeah. He died last night." Just like that, of liver failure. He was only about 10 years older than I am. We both teared up and spent a few minutes talking about him, and as I was leaving it occurred to me – he's done now. He made it. He's out of range, safe from everything I'm most anxious about these days: the grand trifecta of sickness, old age and death.

Not that I'm feeling quite ready to go myself, just yet. But remembering that it's going to happen someday does help me bring myself back to reality in a way that feels healthy and grounding. I really don't need to make such a big deal about all the stuff I don't like – my job insecurity, my general lack of confidence, my boring mental and physical health issues ... Those things are not unique to me, and they're not even remotely the most important elements of my life. And I feel so much better when I focus on the parts that feel good – life is too short to do anything else.

Wow. I just put that song on the iPod (in preparation for a rainy day sunset dog walk) while I still had it playing on the computer, so now I'm hearing it playing over itself like a round. Very interesting.

P.S. Also: I got some gorgeous cranberry colored alpaca wool the other day and have been knitting neck warmers for bike riding. Speaking of things that feel good! Oh – and also – this tea, with milk and a tiny bit of honey – is making me so very, very happy each and every afternoon of late. Highly recommended.

I'm here

Just a quickie to write down something interesting that happened to me this morning.

I've been waking up way too early as it is, and Daylight Saving Time has not helped. Usually the first thing I notice when I realize I'm awake is that flood of adrenaline sloshing through my guts. Once I'm up I can get it back down to a manageable level by exercising – I feel fine as long as I'm moving fairly fast, walking or hiking or riding my bike. If I go hard enough, the effect lasts awhile, at least long enough to give me a few good hours to focus on freelance work. But it always seems to creep back up again, the longer I sit ... bad news for someone whose only source of income depends on spending time in front of a computer.

I feel good while I'm walking. But I can't walk all day.

This gives me pause, when I think about what I'm going to do next for work. Am I really going to try to find another job that involves sitting at a desk? What else do I really know how to do? When I get back from this little Utah trip (driving out tomorrow for a few days, with a friend who's going for business – so, free gas and hotels!) I'm thinking I might re-activate my substitute teaching credential and see if I like being in a classroom at all. That's a job where you actually get to stand up every once in awhile ....

Anyway – on to what happened this morning, and then I've gotta get out of here and get some exercise so I can get this little project finished before I leave tomorrow.

So this morning I had an experience of pure, open awareness, just as I was waking up. I realized I was awake, but there were no thoughts there – I was just there, warm and safe and quiet with the sun shining through the window. Then, the first thought that came into my mind was, "I'm here." That was all. It was just like what the Buddhist texts describe as emptiness – I was just there, and there wasn't any story attached to that moment, or emotion, or judgment, or anything.

It only lasted a few seconds and then there was a thought, "NO JOB!!!!!!!!!!" Then an immediate stab of adrenaline, a gush of terror .... And then for a few more seconds I was actually able to clear all that out and go back to just being there. Then it came back, and I started twitching and shaking and had to get up. Sucks to be sensitive.

What caught my attention thinking about it later was that nothing had changed in my circumstances to cause the change in my physical state. I hadn't even moved my body. It was the story that was being told inside my head that was causing all the hullabaloo. It was in my mind, and not in my body – because my body was totally fine, relaxed and even kind of happy until the story asserted itself again.

Not to discount the story, exactly – it is true that I don't have a job, and I'm going to need to figure out what to do about that. But that fact doesn't have to be the central defining feature of my existence or my state of mind.

So today I'm thinking about how I might learn to have more of those moments of OKness, by practicing refocusing on the present instead of letting my mind go to town on hyperinflated fear stories.

In the meantime, I'm just feeling grateful to have experienced it. The memory of that moment feels like something I'm going to be able to work with for a long time.

Another sunny day

(Click here to download the soundtrack to this entry.)

I was sorting through the folders on my computer this afternoon and ran across this guy. I don't remember where I got the picture but I'm glad I kept it. The look on his face makes me feel calmer about my present state of uncertainty, reminds me that even when I think I know exactly what's happening and where I'm headed – nobody ever really knows, until they get there. And so it's OK to let go sometimes, and see where my life takes me. Try and have a little faith.

In one of those documentaries about the stock market crash I saw an interview with a couple of elderly guys who'd been stock brokers on the floor the day it happened. They talked about what it was like that day, seeing guys just walking around stunned – and later, hearing about people jumping out of their office windows rather than face financial ruin. "It's not like everyone was committing suicide," they said. "But some people did." They shook their heads and exchanged a glance.

The thing that struck me was that they were smiling and even laughing sometimes, as they told the story. Who knows what that really means – sometimes people smile and laugh because they're trying not to break down in tears – but I got the impression that they were expressing tenderness for their former selves, remembering a difficult time with the compassion that comes from taking the long view of things. I do that sometimes myself, when I start to feel overwhelmed – remind myself that someday I can look back on my own hard times with a smile, and hopefully with gratitude for whatever there is to be experienced.

And there is a lot of that. Music, for one thing. For a few years I've been in the habit of not ever listening to it, holding it in reserve for when I really needed it – kind of like reserving caffeine for days when you have a bad headache – and it's working. I've been pulling out old recordings I haven't listened to in a long time, and checking out lots of new stuff from the library too. It's pretty amazing to have such an easy way to feel better. And singing! I'm learning so many new songs, and singing everywhere – in my yard, on the roof, in the garage, walking with the dog ... that feels good too.

Another thing is the sun. Everything is warm and green and lush after the rain a few weeks ago. The yard is full of birds and fall flowers. Everything smells good, and I'm getting a lot done around the house – daily stuff like baking and cleaning, and more complicated chores I've been putting off literally for years.

I might even have time to write some decent blog posts again one of these days. Right now though I'm going to take Tater for another walk. The sun is going down and the colors are amazing, and it's supposed to rain this weekend.

Seeds

All is not doom and gloom, however – far from it. I'm enjoying all the fall things there are to do around here. Over the weekend we cleared out most of our summer garden and got the space ready for fall plantings, which will be carried out over the course of this week.

One of my favorite things to do when we clear the garden is to save seeds of all the things that were successful, to try again next year. Sometimes the plant that results bears little resemblance to the parent, but it's usually still good and always interesting, and even if it wasn't what I expected, I've still never been disappointed.

Some of the plants I'm saving seeds from this year: black sunflowers, sweet peas (four kinds), nasturtiums (two kinds), marigolds, winter squash, various melons, pole beans, peppers and basil. The basil seeds are especially fun to do, because they're so small and so intimately attached to their plants that you have to really get in there with your hands and fingers to get them out. I've ended up with a lot this year, about two tablespoons of seed, from three varieties: plain sweet Italian, a small-leafed Thai basil that a friend gave me for my birthday, and a beautiful purple one that I've never tried to grow from seed before.

There's also the ginormous tomato we tried on the recommendation of a friend. Mortgage Lifter, it's called. We put it in a standard 3-foot tomato cage and realized before a month had passed that we had deeply underestimated the size and vigor of this plant. It's easily the largest one I've ever grown, a full 8 feet across as it sprawled all over creation looking for support. The fruit is also large, tends to split (at least ours did), sweet-tasting with not much acidity, and super dense. None of those big open cavities full of seeds with this one – every slice is almost completely solid tomato, dark purplish-red and glistening with flavors ... Definitely one to try again, and since it's an heirloom and not a hybrid I'm hoping we'll get the same plant next year, for a change.

For fall we're not planning anything fancy: just some greens, garlic, onions, fava beans, Brussels sprouts, cauliflowers and cabbages, even though I've never had much luck with anything cruciferous, as the aphids seem to love them even more than I do. But it's been awhile since I've tried them, and I'm excited to try again.

As much as I've been complaining lately (if not here, then at least in my heart — a bad habit I need to replace with a better one – gratitude, for example), I have to say that one blessing of being underworked this year has been just having the flexibility to spend time around the house at times when normally I would be chained to my desk at work. I still take about 40 minutes for breakfast every morning, which I never used to do, and I actually cook myself something good and eat it outside all year round, unless it's really pouring.

This morning I also had time to spend working on some of those seeds, straightening up inside and outside, running a load of laundry, and then – at about 9:40 a.m., knowing I had to be at work by noon, I looked at a row of pears sitting on the windowsill and realized if I got right down to it I would still have time to make a little batch of pear-ginger butter as a surprise for Mr. A, who has heard all kinds of wistful stories about of my semi-prowess as an aspiring Depression-era farm wife (a la Olivia Walton, for example), but so far seen little evidence of it.

The pears are from our tree, and they are delicious. Because there were only four of them left (the tree itself is sort of a naturalized bonsai at only just about seven feet tall, and leads a rather rough and rugged existence out at the edge of the field where birds planted it), I ran out and picked two apples off our eastern-most apple tree, the one that is about to split all the way in half any day now but whose fruit is so crisp and sweet and tart I'm glad it's lasted long enough to contribute a few pieces to this combination.

I peeled them all but one (I like just a little bit of that gritty pear texture in there) and sliced them up, and then put in a totally exorbitant amount of fresh ginger and a little honey from the bees I kept at the community garden two years ago, and also a splash of brandy that Mr. A's friend gave us last Christmas, and it's all bubbling away on the stove right now and it makes me so happy to know that I've actually achieved almost everything I set out to do in my life so far, at least in terms of the day-to-day. I've enumerated these blessings plenty of times here already and don't have time to do so again, but I will be giving thanks for them and thinking of ways to share them on my ride to work in a few minutes – on this perfect gold and blue fall day that I'm so happy to be here for.

P.S. If anyone would like seeds for any of those things I mentioned, let me know in comments or email tina at tinarama.com. There's plenty.