Three deep breaths...

When I was a kid, my grandfather would stand at the top of the back stairs every morning, look out at the Olympic Mountains, and take three deep breaths. He insisted this was essential for good health. Perhaps it's the deep breathing that let him live to 70, despite being a lifelong smoker. I don't really remember the smoking, but I do remember that back porch ritual. 

Overlooking Puget Sound and
the Olympic Mountains from
Sunset Hill Park.

Breathing is one of those things we shouldn't have to think about. Isn't it about the most natural thing we do? Without oxygen, we'd cease to exist.



Getting enough air isn't easy for all of us. I attempt to breeze through my life as a recovering Type A, but there seems to be a residual pattern of frequent shallow breathing. In addition to pre-behavioral adjustment, I attribute this breathing pattern in large part to perpetual allergies, low-grade, persistent anxiety, and chronic lack of sleep (at least, I hope that's all it is). While I've likely had more than my fair share of stress over the years, relatively speaking, my life is pretty manageable right now. Perhaps breathing badly is learned? Or am I more stressed out than I realize? To get effective breath much of the time, I have to breathe consciously. In through the nose, into the guts, hold, exhale.  

That said, I was reminded of the dangers of stress on our health when Joe Piscatella came to talk with us at work earlier this week. He had heart disease at age 32 and doctors didn't expect him to live past 40. That was 35 years ago. He changed his life: both his diet and exercise routine, and he learned to manage his stress. His book, Don't Eat Your Heart Out, had a significant impact on my diet and attitude when I read it in the mid-80s. He's since written many more and speaks internationally about the affect lifestyle has on our health over genetics. Something I've been spouting since... well, maybe since I read his book.

I have to remember to breathe. Mr. Piscatella offered up a useful exercise that takes my usual breathe in/breathe out attempts a little further. In addition to turning off the television nightly news - should anyone really still watch it - he suggests the following:

Take a deep breathe in through your nose letting your belly expand outward. Hold and pull your abdominal muscles in. Exhale through your mouth over five beats. Repeat.

Trust me - this is much easier than bending over and putting your head between your knees, which I've found myself doing on occasion. Actual "breathwork" has always sounded a little too new agey for me, but I think I may look into it and see what that kind of practice has to offer. Meditation has always been difficult, but if I have a focus like very specific breathing, maybe that'll help.


UPDATE (8/28/12): My naturopath Eva tells me I breathe through my mouth which impacts the quality and quantity of air I take in. It's like miniscule, ongoing hyperventilation, and I also breathe in unfiltered particles and who knows what which leaves me vulnerable to viruses, infections, etc. Not to mention that I just don't get good breaths. So I do need to consciously focus on my breathing; Eva even suggested that if I need to, I could tape my mouth shut. If I'm breathing so hard I can't breathe through my nose, I'm doing too much. Oh - and use the neti pot. Joy.   

It comes in threes...

"Stuff comes in threes." How many times have I heard that?

While it can be applied to anything, the idea or belief that things happen in triplicate is usually applied to things that are weird, unusual, or just plan unpleasant. Maybe we notice the 'threes' because we pay more attention when bad things happen, and we're ready for them to stop at a certain point. Good things could just keep happening.

I'm not sure I buy it, but right now it's ringing true.

• I attended my aunt's memorial in Los Angeles this weekend; she left the mortal coil about a month ago after living with Alzheimer's, such as living with this disease is, for about five years. I didn't know her well. She didn't want to know me as a child; as an adult, long after my dad died, she welcomed me back into her life and helped me learn about their family - the paternal side that I knew less than a paragraph about growing up. I'm grateful for that opportunity, and her willingness to at last see from a different lense.
• My 98-year-old neighbor, a pillar in my world, a woman who knew me my entire life, my mom as a teenager, my grandparents, and so many more, left us on Friday. She was my evidence that we don't have to leave this world prematurely, as so many in my own family have. Although she's been ready to go for a while, until recently, she maintained her health and independence. But over the last two years or so, her quality of life deteriorated. She couldn't spend time in her garden, and she finally gave up driving. It's difficult to comprehend that she's no longer just across the street, keeping an eye on the neighborhood, or telling stories of former neighbors, friends and events.
• A woman I've known nearly all my life - we were kids together - was diagnosed with cancer just three weeks ago. Not quite two weeks ago, she had surgery to remove the tumors in her throat. She was going in for more tests this week, but on Monday night, something was very wrong so she called 911. By the time the medics came, she had to be revived, and now she's in the hospital, unconscious. While the human spirit is capable of much and she has two young boys she loved beyond anything, it doesn't look like she's going to recover. She's 49.

None of these are really "about me." But I am deeply sad and feel very affected. Mortality is an interesting thing. We don't know how long we're here. So many leave us before it seems they should - my mom at 64, my dad at 28, my aunts at 48 and 60, grandparents at 68 and 70, cousins at 18, 52, and 54, and countless friends and acquaintances gone at a young age. Yet one could argue that we all have our time - fate, destiny, whatever you might call it (Forrest says, "If you're meant to be drown, you won't be hanged").

Or as one friend says, there are lessons for those of us left behind.

If I could, would I want to know what the future really holds? Probably not. I think it would be hard to understand those lessons and see the gifts or silver linings without truly experiencing them. Currently, lessons coming to mind are:

• not leaving anything left unsaid (especially to those we care about),
• asking myself what's really important,
• planning for the future while living for today - at least covering the bases in whatever way possible for the unpredictable and unknown (perhaps a last gift for those we leave).

But I'm hoping this is it for a while. Three feels like plenty right now because in some ways, these are markers of time... and each of these women were significant in my life for different reasons. They were all part of my history.

For today, I am grateful and happy with where I am in my life. I am healthy, happy, gainfully employed working with good people, with a man I love and adore, and have a home in a location that's hard to beat. And I have exciting plans for my future that I intend to fulfill.

Onward, yes? There's a lot of life yet to be lived, and I don't want to waste a minute.

Dark days... and bright lights

The best thing about dark days is they're often followed by flashes of insight. If you can just sit with them a bit. And be willing to not have all the answers and then make space for them show up.

I've had a few dark days lately.

As winter hopefully comes to its dramatic end (snow on leap day!), glimpses of possibility made themselves visible. Today, during a challenging meditation and call out to guardian angels and spirit guides (just in case), a couple of insights presented themselves.

At last. Bright light - inspiring, actionable.

The lethargy lifts. I suddenly have more insight into what I should be, could be, doing for work.  And how everything ties together - my dreams, my goals, my skills, background, interests and passions. It just might be the most clarity I've had yet. While not the first time I've experienced profound insights (although I'm not quite sure I'd call this batch profound, but certainly enlightening and helpful), I finally feel like the pieces of a seemingly endless puzzle are coming together to create something whole. The proverbial big picture.

I'm not sure I'd say it's my life's work, or my calling, but I'm ready to explore. Maybe yes. Maybe no. But I'm willing to take some risks, put myself out there, try a few things, and see what happens. 2012 should be a good year - certainly an experimental, interesting one. I'll write more as I follow my new-found path and work to make things happen.

Practice makes better...

The way things are, and the way things were

I've often said, "There but for the grace..." in terms of where I am in life. I lament that I'm not further along with my career, at my age, that I haven't accomplished the proverbial more, that I haven't done so much of what I say I want.

But the truth is, given where I could be, it's rather miraculous that I made it this far. Growing up, I had no voice. I was taught to be obedient and do the 'right' thing. I learned that girls shouldn't be too smart. Competition wasn't encouraged, but pleasing others, or aquiessing, was.

In my teens, I had no guidance, no parameters. I looked for love and approval in all the wrong places. My best friends were troubled. The path I took was tough. I made bad choices. And while no longer part of my life for more years than not, many of those best friends are no longer living - their road was rougher than mine. There are some barely alive, a few live on and off the streets. No, not everyone I knew traveled that road, and many are doing well, but those closest to me during some very formative years - Shelley, Dorci, Huck, Lauri, Dawn - took a very different path. And that could have been me.

So I count my blessings and feel grateful for where I am when I remember. Somehow, I've traveled to a decent place with just a bare bones road map, some deep seated values unearthed during crisis, and a strong will to survive.

I still lament. I read the Art of Non-Conformity and my soul aches to be brave and do more. But my own realities slow me down. I don't feel smart enough, good enough, experienced enough, whole enough... hence my last post on not striving for perfection.

I say slow, because I'm know I'm moving forward, but the steps sometimes feel miniscule. Compassion helps. When I look back, recognize and accept, I can take those steps forward. I have walked through fears, rewritten stories, undone beliefs that were barriers. It's such a damn process, though, and I wish I just intrinsically knew that I can do whatever I choose. That I have the power to make it work.

I know that I have not settled. I have used sheer will to make my life non-standard in so many ways.

I have come a long way and I have time to go further and create the world I want. I intend to do at least some of the things I say I want to do. Travel, write, advocate. In a bigger, more satisfying way. I would love to do these professionally, but even to do more personally would be a greater step. The big picture is still unclear - in part because I've never let myself dream or trust I can create - but I want boats, water, healthy food, wellness, travel, nature, entertainment, culture, people to all factor in in some way. Flexibility to explore, experience, and learn are essential.

There's a part of me that feels very strongly that I am supposed to be more entrepreneurial. Over a number of years, I have taken classes, workshops, drafted plans, and talked with small business groups. But I guess I want a safety net, and I don't have one.

I want the courage to take more risks and do them more quickly. To let go of that rope, as a friend once suggested, and start something, create something.

Aiming for excellence, not perfection...

... and really, even excellence is subjective, so I'm not sure it's really a worthy goal. The bottom line is that I just want to write more blog posts, focus on things that matter - things I think we should all know about, to some degree care about (like air, water, garbage, food quality, each other, etc.), and maybe make some new connections. And not worry about waiting until I have a perfectly formed idea, or a perfectly written piece, or an original thought (of which really isn't possible anymore, only variations on themes, at least for the vast majority). Or until I'm really clear on where I want this blog to go next...

So what might I write more posts about?

Food and farms are big for me - and how they interconnect with our overall well-being - mentally and emotionally as well as our physical health. Fighting big ag and companies like Monsanto are worthy of effort, and of sharing information about. Supporting local farming businesses - including the newer urban neighborhood farms - is essential to make sure we have land for a nearby food supply.

Toxins are a big one, too. What we put on our skin gets sucked into our tissues, our cells, and every other part of us. And if it's full of toxic chemicals, well, hello. It's like a slow intravenous drip, sending poison into our bodies a drop at a time. I haven't yet read The Toxic Avenger, a book by a neighborhood author, but I'm curious. Prior to writing the book, she already lived a fairly au natural lifestyle, yet toxicity testing still revealed a high level of chemical crud in her blood. These particular additives have only been around the last 50 or 60 years... we don't really know what their long-term impact will be. Marketed as "safe," it's really just a guessing game, or a crap shoot. The FDA is a virtually useless agency, so if you're counting on them for protection through testing, well, don't.

Or maybe I'll write about the little things that piss me off, that I also think we should all be aware of, like the impact stupid drivers have on all the other drivers on the road. Like using the far left lane on the freeway as a cruising lane, rather than a passing lane. It's illegal, people! But obviously that law isn't enforced. Can you say accident? Or at the very least, the potentially damaging rise in blood pressure of those stuck behind the unconscious or self-serving driver.

These are things I might write about here. But what do these and other similar topics have to do with Growing Things? Maybe growing awareness, or growing responsibility toward others who either benefit or are inadvertently harmed by the choices I make. It's something I believe we all should be thinking more about. The impact we have on the world around us - whether in our own backyards, or in our global community.

We'll see. It's been a very long time since I've posted and writing is essential in my world.

May 25... and few signs of spring

It's May 25, just a few days before the Memorial Day weekend, and we've had about five days of spring since it began in March. The Memorial Day weekend is typically unpredictable and often, the weather is lousy (having worked a couple of weather-dependent Folklife festivals), but we usually have more sunny days leading up to the long weekend.

I've heard it's not supposed to be nice until July.  Really?  My garden is suffering, but my weeds and unwanted grass are happily growing and spreading. Plants and flowers that typically bloom earlier are about a month behind. I'm still wearing my down coat, and I've had the heat on in my car. This is not normal, even for gray, drizzly Seattle.

One of the new gardeners, Marion, got an early start, planting all things weather-resistent, and his garden is lush and beautiful, already offering up greens for salads.  The rest of us are fair-weathered and have little to show so far.

It's in the 90s in Savannah.  I'm here why???

Nothing says local like...

... Portlandia.  Eating out?  Ordering chicken?  Watch this episode to see just how far - well, relatively speaking - you can go when it comes to local.  

"Garden as if your life depended on it"

I've read this line a number of times recently (but of course I can only find one of the many articles I've noticed). Point being, urban agriculture may play a bigger role in our futures, so doing what we can now, even with our small gardens, is a pretty good step in the right direction. Here's the one article I was able to find.

Garden as if your life depended on it - CounterCurrents, 3/30/11

Gardening season!

Garden season is here. Seed catalogs dropped into the mailbox in January. Inquiries about garden space landed in my inbox in February. The Early Spring Edible Plant Sale is coming up on March 19.

Our first new gardener, Marion, is an enthusiastic one; he's prepped the bed, and already has some seeds and plants in the ground. Our recent freeze doesn't bode well for the pre-planted seeds, but the starts look pretty good. Although a colleague at work said she's already planted peas and carrots - hearty crops that should survive a freeze or two. Clearly, I don't really know much about gardening...

Joining us this year are Marion, Rebecca, and Ross. Jen, Andy, and Yukko are back again (as is Shiv, of course), along with possibly a friend of Andy & Yukko. It's looking like a full crew. In addition to each of the individual plots, we'll have more shared space this year.

In February, we had Forrest's compadre Ascension do some prep work around the yard and in some of the side beds, cleaning out weeds, grass, and other unwanted growth. The berries and herbs now have room to breathe and spread - and hopefully we'll have weather this year to support a lush crop. After the endless, cold winter, I'm ready. Shiv has expanded, yet again; he has cut back and cleared the north hillside under the lilac and rose bushes, and continues his rows a bit up the eastern hillside.

Stay tuned for pictures and stories as we get our unofficial community garden underway for a third season!

At the root

It was 2008 when things really started to unravel, although it wasn't immediately apparent. And no, life wasn't always peachy before that, but it was rolling along well enough that any underlying instability wasn't particularly noticable.

In 2009, the earth moved and my life turned upside down in ways I never would have imagined. So in 2010, I dug deep and at last discovered the root of all that shaped me and got me to where I am.

I may not have taken this route had I an inkling of the pock-filled road ahead. But I had to. What was initially forced upon me became a deliberate process of self-discovery. The past, now blown to bits; what was wouldn't ever be again.

To reach that root, layer-upon-unknown layer had to be stripped away, one painful striation at a time. Gradually, all the heartache morphed into awareness, understanding, new tools and perspective, and finally, a healthy vulnerability, compassion, and a new way to be in the world.

Tending to what I've unearthed will be a lifelong process. But the knowing makes it possible to move beyond long-entrenched limits, and create my life on my terms - what I want, what I need, not on familial obligations, debilitating beliefs, or other life-squelching perceptions.

I'm not dramatic by nature, but it's been a dramatic process. I have much to be thankful for - many memorable moments and life experiences. I have lived fully, in large part, but I see many places where I've been stopped, or as one friend put it, "couldn't get traction." I'm not lamenting; I can see where divine guidance has intervened at key points and pushed me along this path, both for better and worse; it's all part of what I now recognize as my "soul work" so I could get to the place I am now.

But I can't help notice the missed leverage points, where something could have changed. The question begs: would I still be right where I am at this point in time? Could I have got here sooner, less painfully? Of course there's no real answer, but I'm coming to believe we land here intentionally to learn something specific, pre-designed, in some way. This is a new leverage point, and I can now choose to move through my life in a very different way.

2011 promises to be another year of growth and change, but this time, consciously self-directed and happily embraced. This year, I give credence to my dreams, listen to my internal self, believe the universe supports my needs and desires, and create from a part of me that wasn't previously available.

Big changes are imminent. And yes, with my partner, sailing on parallel paths (cultivating parallel plots?), new tools in hand - for ourselves and each other. It's a new adventure, with a whole lot to look forward to. I expect challenges, and I know practice will take mindful effort because I'm still learning, but I am much more equipped to take them on. I'm ready.