Neurotic Traveler

Too much naval gazing

2011-08-04T04:41:00.000-07:00

I think.

Last night, in a fit of missing my ipod, I sat at the computer and rocked out to the music of my youth. Read, the best of the '90's.

(En Vogue! I miss you, and I bet there's not too many people who will admit to that.)

Anyway. As I sat here, mindlessly dancing in my chair, it occurred to me that I was happy. Happy! Wasn't that the whole blasted point of the month of health? Quietly soothe my soul with yoga, good food, and good livin'?

Really, all I needed was a dose of En Vogue and Weezer. Huh.

A vast oversimplification? Probably. All the yoga and healthy eating did my body good, I know. And I couldn't last a full month on En Vogue and Weezer alone. (I mean, that's just crazy.) It does occur that sometimes when life hands you lemons, it kinda just...hands you lemons. And, sometimes, all you can do is try your best to make lemonade or lemon meringue pie or, you know, eat less meat and do more yoga.

I think what I'm say, awkwardly and inarticulately, is that you can't force yourself to find meaning. Sometimes answers are elusive. So. Instead of pushing yourself to keep swimming against and through the current, maybe, sometimes, it's okay to turn around, climb out of the water, and wait.

And do the best you can with your lemons.

A door closes. A door opens.

2011-07-21T04:56:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about my question to Hubs and the Universe...

"You know, life shouldn't be so hard. I know there's an answer, if only I can see it. Why can't I see it?"

I was reading a fab collection of reflections on life and spirituality by Anne Lamott when I came across a little something written by Kathleen Norris, "Prayer is not asking for what you think you want, but asking to be changed in ways you can't imagine."

Love. It.

I can't help thinking back to the day I lost my ipod, otherwise known as The Day My Heart Fell Out of My Body and My World Changed Forever.

Slight exaggeration, but you know. It's strange to have become so reliant on such a small piece of technology. I used it to exercise, escaping into a fun dance-y Glee-like world where my Big Problems didn't exist. (Of course, they were waiting for me when I was done but never mind.) I used it to fall asleep at night, disappearing into familiar audio books, and walking to work in the mornings (and back in the evenings). Any opportunity to escape, I took it. My ipod was my friend and enabler.

Then, it was gone. Poof.

Without it, I started swimming, discovering a beautiful dance between myself and the water, loving the grace of each stroke. I still marvel that feeling of pulling myself across the water. I think how wonderful it feels to move so effortlessly, how elongated and strong my body feels. In fact, I marvel at being so "in" my body. I would never have discovered this without the loss of my old buddy. Escaping into a fantasy world is enticing. Was enticing.

So. No, I haven't answered my own question, but I have found grace in an unexpected place because of an unexpected loss.

Fare thee well, old buddy. And thanks.

Satan is a pilates instructor. I'm sure of it.

2011-07-21T04:35:00.000-07:00

And She took corporeal form in Tuesday's pilates class.

Look. Everyone's month of happy, healthy wellness needs an encounter with the Power of Darkness.

How else can you explain what took place on Tuesday? After a grueling 45 minutes of body defying, sweat inducing core work in positions both fantastical and, possibly, Evil, She clapped her hands and announced "Let's end our session with some push ups!" Why lay in child's pose when you can manipulate your jell-o like limbs into push-up position?

Why indeed?

That said, I might go back because of Satan. She was pretty effective. There's nothing like an encounter with the Unholy One to remind you that life is really not that bad.

It could be worse. You could be sentenced to a life of daily pilates classes.

That would be decidedly Not Fun.

Panicking my way to serenity

2011-07-19T04:43:00.000-07:00

Is there any other way?

I ask you, who has a near panic attack in a gentle yoga class?

(Yoo-hoo! Me, that's who.)

I actually found it fascinating, and, silver lining, managed to breathe my way through the shallow breathing, rapid heartbeat, and sweats. That's something, right? (It really is something. All I could think of, at the time, is that if I don't get out of this pose immediately, I'm going to run screaming out of class.)

Bo says that we can bring our anxiety and depression into our poses. That our mind is so hard-wired to be either anxious or depressed, for those of us with these chronic conditions, that we can force our body into re-creating these sensations. Pushing ourselves into downward dog, straining into a position. Fascinating.

In this case, I felt so smothered by all the freakin' props--bolster, eye pillow, all four blankets--that I just couldn't relax into the pose. I kept thinking the blanket was moving, the eye pillow was slipping, and the whole delicate operation was in danger of falling apart. From a relaxed recline, I would come tumbling out into a big heap, which brought on performance anxiety and the rapid heart rate and the sweats.

Man, the body is fascinating, huh?

So, here is my takeaway. The simpler the pose, the happier I am. Then again, maybe my takeaway should be an openness to falling ridiculously out of the pose and not caring if it doesn't "look right."

Whatever the case, I'm grateful that my month of health is making me take stock of these things by trying new things. It reminds me of something I just read by Anne Lamont, "When things break up and fences fall over, desperation and powerlessness slink in, which turns out to be good: humility and sweetness often arrive in your garden not long after."

I like it. And I'm starting to see where that may indeed be true.

Process and discovery

2011-07-14T04:44:00.000-07:00

After a particularly long day, I said to Hubs, "You know, life shouldn't be so hard. I know there's an answer, if only I can see it. I feel like it's there, just waiting to be discovered. Why can't I see it?"

Bo talks about the process of discovery in her fabulous gem of a book. Inspiration lives in the most unlikely of places. It doesn't come when asked or as a reward for hard work. It pops up--poof!--when the "mind and body are at play."

It's a tough balance. I don't want to be complacent, but fighting so hard to find a path is probably couterproductive.

At the same time, I'm finding myself increasingly able to let go of anxiety and anger. I have no idea if it's the breath work I've been doing, the evening swims, or the restorative yoga. Whatever it is, that, in itself, is pretty glorious.

As for everything else, I'll just be patient and enjoy the journey.

When the loss of an ipod is not a bad thing

2011-07-13T04:44:00.000-07:00

So. Three weeks ago I was in a taxi. The driver had no clue where he was going, and I was late for a meeting. When I finally made it to work, my thoughts were only on being late. I jumped out of the cab, put my purse over my shoulder, and adjusted my ear buds for some musical entertainment to calm my jangled nerves.

Unfortunately, my ipod was gone. The ultimate tip for the worst taxi driver in the world.

This was, in a word, crushing. I had just transitioned to a new laptop and hadn't transferred the music on my ipod to the new system. For one. For two, I had owned this ipod for years. For years. It was a member of the family, a faithful companion during workouts, on transatlantic flights, and drifting off to sleep at night. And I lose it in a DC taxi.

Great.

Without the immediate funds to replace it, I knew I had to do without. As I was swimming the other night, I was thinking how weirdly fortuitous it was that I had lost it. (Hmm, yes, I'll go with "weirdly fortuitous.") Most evenings pre-ipod loss, I would do a quick 30 minute workout on the bike or the treadmill, all the while daydreaming and jamming to my tunes. Post-ipod, the thought of working out on either bike or treadmill was just dreary. How boring without the escapist music to entertain me.

Luckily, and again there's that word fortuitously, I was entering my month of mindful living. Without my ipod as my faithful companion, I started swimming. I hadn't done laps in a pool in...Well, I had never done laps in a pool. In fact, the side stroke had become my carefree stroke of choice, and I had all but forgotten the rhythm of a strong forward crawl. (A stroke I had loved and enjoyed as a teen.) Without my trusty ipod companion, I found myself in the pool almost every night, a little hesitant and self-conscious at first. Since I had to concentrate on my breath and re-learn the stroke, there was no room in my mind for daydreaming or escapism. While swimming, I was (and am) very present, in my body and in my breath.

Now, I am an addict. Swimming has become a calm, centering exercise that allows me to be present completely and totally in my body.

If I hadn't had the cab ride from Hell, if I hadn't lost my ipod that fateful day, I might never have come back to swimming and found something so awesome.

Life is weird that way.

Reflections on the little things...

2011-07-11T04:43:00.000-07:00

I want to lay a bouquet of flowers at the feet of Bo Forbes and her fantastic book. 1:2 breathing is a sweet, simple miracle, and the restorative yoga poses are truly restorative. She really understands the restless mind. I'm grateful to have found this little gem. Way to go local library!

I'm a BIG fan of Whole Foods' Oatmeal Date Scone but not so much a fan of the price. Killer on the purse strings. I found this recipe and made my first batch this past weekend. Delicious and vegan to boot. I managed to use all of my remaining dates and walnuts. Score and score.

Am thankful to my friend N. for pointing out that not all of life's transitions are easy and that sometimes you have to accept that you are a traveler in your own spiritual wilderness. (Very similar to an idea Bo describes in her book.) I like the idea of being an adventurer in my own personal wilderness (although it would be great to see an end or solution). That said, the breathing and the poses are all helping me stay in the present and not wander off into a minefield of future what-if's and circular anxiety laced thoughts.

In fact. If I had not come to a point in my spiritual wilderness that made me stop, reflect, and DO something, I might never have come to this month of healing, which (so far) has been truly healing.

Heavy.

The steak shakes

2011-07-09T13:58:00.000-07:00

New month, new me is moving merrily along! Unfortunately, in the race to attend an early morning Saturday workshop on ethics (kill-me-now), I consumed a Whole Foods' date oatmeal scone and a cup of coffee and buzzed out on sugar until lunch. There, I had a mediocre and measly cheese sandwich, which didn't do much to kill the sugar buzz or provide my body with much needed protein. So, in the aftermath of the workshop, I raced to Union Station where I had food court sushi. Not so bad for food court sushi, actually. But, once again, it was the dreaded (though deliciously appealing) scent of red meat that almost had me.

I mean, really, what is it about ground meat and cheese that is so sexy to my palate? Whatever it is, I'm virtually powerless in its presence.

I can already tell I'm going to need to ramp up recipe diversity this month to keep my tastebuds happy. Some women pine for chocolate; I pine for raw cow flesh.

So. Diet: check and check. Restorative yoga is still happening before bedtime and I'm digging 1:2 breathing: nasal inhale and exhale, longer on the exhale. Very soothing.

Now, I feel the need to challenge myself with something further. I'd like to take some mind-body classes of the yoga variety. I always mean to and then I virtually always find an excuse not to. And the excuse is usually time. Being a full-time working mom is hard. It is really hard. Emotionally I'm drained at the end of the day, but I still need to cook dinner, put Kiddo to bed, and, yes, workout. And that I do at 8:00.

But if this is truly a month of wellness, it has to be about more than the food I consume. And I think I need to push myself to do something that is really just for me. (And not make excuses why I can't.)

And that will be a hard one. Harder than the steak shakes.

Perseverance

2011-07-08T04:37:00.000-07:00

My month of healthy living almost came to a grinding and unexpected halt yesterday. The lure? Ground meat. Greasy, cheesy hamburger. (Note to self: gotta stop blaming hamburgers for life's problems.)

Happily, I persevered, walked past that temptation, and ate a grossly overpriced (and gross) lentil burger and kombucha. (It's a sad day when you can say your kombucha was far tastier than your entree.)

Lacto-pesco-ovo wise, the day was a success. I even practiced my restorative yoga poses and nasal breathing.

Unfortunately, the rest of the day, the day not involving Hubs, Kiddo, or restorative yoga poses, sucked profoundly. Profoundly.

Even deep nasal breathing couldn't save me.

So, this will be my challenge, as I knew it would. How do I stay positive and centered when my tendency is to slip into shallow breathing anxiety laced Hell?

Part of the answer is perseverance. I am committed to not only cleansing my body of red meat but also to remaining faithful to activities that promote mind-body wellness. Like restorative yoga and breathing.

And I need to counter my obsessive negative thoughts with positive ones. Like. My son is adorable and thinks that pirates, though "really bad," are also totally awesome. I don't want to miss that stage.

For my own sanity and, frankly, well-being, I need to stay committed to this month of well-being and persevere through that which sucketh.

Are you with me?

The lure of escapism

2011-07-07T04:29:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine went on a vacation following an emotional train wreck. I know exactly how he feels, as I've done it myself to varying degrees of success. During the most successful of those times, I managed to leave everything behind for the duration of the holiday. I saw new things, had adventures, and came back with a feeling that everything was manageable. My problems seemed very small and I couldn't remember what had bothered me so much in the first place.

And that lasted for, oh, a week. Then the accumulated emotional turmoil came back with a vengeance.

You really can't run away from your problems. This is very true. I think a successful vacation can be a tonic for the short term and, if managed well, it can be a jump start to a healthier life.

It is July 7th, and I, too, just returned from a successful vacation where my problems seem small and manageable. From experience, I know it's up to me to make that feeling last. (And let me just say the thing which is the source of my angst is not my wonderful little family. They are most wonderful indeed.)

So. I'm going to embark on a month-long pursuit of healthiness. Starting now. Details will follow but rest assured it involves lacto/ovo/pesco vegetarianism, as any month-long pursuit of mind-body wellness should. Duh.

I wonder what happens when you try to resurrect an old blog?

2011-06-28T16:21:00.000-07:00

Kinda like that old philosophical chestnut, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

Am I a tree in the forest of the blogosphere?

I guess I am.

So it begins.

French shmench

2010-08-15T14:52:00.000-07:00

It's cheap; it's close; it's family friendly. Point Chaud rules!

A West African sauce recipe for you...

2010-08-13T16:30:00.000-07:00

...and you and you and you!

I had such a flashback to Sarajevo the other day. A glass of red wine in one hand (Vranac, thank you) and a spatula in the other--sauteing onions and garlic, otherwise that spatula doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

No Bosnian recipe here, but a West African one from a dear Ivoirian friend.

Food always eases travel sickness and, let's face it, it hardly ever disappoints. Except when it makes you sick.

Eyes on you Quiznos.

Here is your delicious recipe, my friend.

Bisous.

Sauce Recipe from The Ivory Coast, West Africa

Chicken/Fish/Oxtail--you can use any of these in combination or alone. I usually use chicken, about 1 lb, but more is fine too. It's a flexible recipe.

You need a big pot.

Ingredients

Chicken/Fish/Oxtail (see note above)
Vegetable Oil
Red pepper
Salt
1 medium onion
3 medium tomatoes (ripe!)
2 medium size carrots
1-2 cloves garlic
1-2 chicken bouillon cubes

1. Cut onion in half. Roughly chop that half. Toss into big pot with a little veggie oil, chicken, salt and red pepper. Add a little water to almost cover chicken. Cook water down. This will flavor the chicken.
2. While the chicken is being flavored, skin the carrots and put them in the microwave for 4-6 minutes or so. Just to get them soft. Meanwhile, take out your blender or food processor. Roughly chop the remaining onion, tomatoes, and cloves of garlic. Toss them in. Add the carrots when they are ready. Blend thoroughly. You want it to be liquid and you may need to add a little water to get everything moving, especially if you are using a blender.
3. When the water is cooked down almost to the bottom of the pot, add the processed ingredients and some more water (this will be to your taste, if you want thick sauce, only add1/4 a blender-full of water, for thin sauce, add more). You will want to cook this down as well to let all the flavors mix together, say 15/20 minutes or so. But this is to your taste. Add 1 to 2 cubes of chicken bouillon. Maggi cubes are great but not required. Any old bouillon will do.
The sauce should be on the thick side, which I think tastes best! You can serve with rice, or, for the full African experience, you could buy fufu from an African store. Rice alone is fine though. Enjoy

Inexplicably homesick for travel...

2010-08-12T11:47:00.000-07:00

...and freakishly bound to this blog.

Hmm, well...Duh. It is kinda in the title.

I wonder about people. People who live their lives in one place. (And maybe move once in a lifetime.) How do they see their lives play out before them? Romantic partnership, family home, kids, up-up the career ladder, and retirement? It's funny. I can only see into the next two years of my life and then only vaguely. I don't see progression so much as leaps and gigantic bounds.

Inevitably, and really not very inexplicably, I get that antsy feet itch to explore new horizons. Is this the curse of those who are hopelessly bound to travel because of their work?

Without sounding hokey, and I'm afraid that's impossible, I really just want to do good work wherever I land, for the time I'm there. After all these years as a traveling spouse, this is my ethos, my modus operandi, my security blanket and comfort.

Is that hokey? Little throw-up-in-your-mouth-Hallmark hokey?

It must be 'cause I'm feeling queasy.

Here's to good work and to not talking about my job because hello? Stupid.

And to my posting some more here and there and everywhere.

Is this thing on?

2010-08-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

Tap, tap, tap...

Hellooo?

I've added Wai Lana and Margaret Richard to my daily routine (Day 71)

2009-05-21T10:14:00.000-07:00

What? You think it isn't worthy to blog about? You are, like, so totally wrong.

I'm finding my new Washington routine evolve ever so slowly, and it goes something like this:

1) Get up. Make breakfast for self, baby.
2) Play with baby; put baby in for morning nap.
3) Job search; apply for jobs; don't think about chances of getting job as economy is crap. (Maybe I'm crap? No! Patience is a virtue, a virtue, dammit! You are a strong, beautiful woman with a tight little booty, which does not really help. In the professions I'm considering.)
4) Turn on PBS and do workout with Margaret Richard even though I'm not "40 and Fabulous." She kicks my ass anyway, which is disturbing in and of itself.
5) Take bath with Ollie while Wai Lana does her yoga thang in background. Am totally into her trippy dance to end yoga workout. Think Wai Lana may be on to something. (Or on something?) Not sure what but she cheers me to no end.
6) Go to park. Run after baby as he runs after others and eats junk off dirt, or just dirt.
7) Run errands.
8) Make lunch. Make smoothies!! Try not to eat rest of Ben & Jerry's FroYo.
9) Baby nap; more job apply. Feel self-esteem leech out of soul, into chair.
10) Maybe watch Bernie Mac. I love Bernie, America.
11) Baby waketh! Take baby to play with baby friend around the corner.
12) Bring baby home; make dinner. Can take pride in asparagus soup. I make fine asparagus soup.
13) Give baby dinner; feed husband; put baby to bed.
14) Lather, rinse, repeat

Must leave city. Must leave city...(Day 70)

2009-05-08T11:27:00.000-07:00

It's too big! Too crowded! I'm constantly asking myself if I should move the baby's crib away from the window because you never know if a stray bullet will come through the window.

Not really a joke in our neighborhood, although only one or two people in our building have actually been shot. (All survived.)

So, even though we can't afford to sell our house, I panic attacked my way through the classifieds and said to hubby, "What's the harm of checking out neighborhoods? You know, just to see..."

Which brought us to Kensington, it's darling antique row, and an equally darling man whom I'm guessing is named Sandro.

It's a lovely place to visit, but, oh my God, Sandro...He let me try on $10,000 necklaces, spoke at length about attractive cleavages, gossiped about how Sharon Stone wore one of his necklaces and DIDN'T GIVE IT BACK, and did I mention the $10,000 NECKLACES???

I don't know what casual bling y'all have hanging around the crib, but in these here neck of the woods, the closest I've ever gotten to jewelry in that price range is one to two feet. There's me. There's the thick glass and security alarms.

And here's this lovely older gentleman, talking about his craft and proudly displaying his finer work. Age and arthritis don't allow him to create anymore, so he waits until an enthusiastic shopper comes across his threshold.

We wandered in right in the middle of inventory, and I swear to the good Lord above, if hubby and baby weren't there, I would have volunteered my services and sat my ass down between him and his daughters and helped right on out. Just to touch the jewelry.

Why, oh why, didn't I get a picture?

Ha! You thought maybe I gave up??? (Day 69)

2009-05-07T05:47:00.000-07:00

Nope. I'm a crazy maverick and thought I'd tease you with anticipation! Do you feel well and truly seduced?

Actually, this move was a whopper, and we're still suffering from the fallout. Meaning.

We're broke and close to broken. And we still won't have our stuff for a month.

I've lost my friends. Actually, my best friend. My job. My adorable little town. And everything familiar.

I've gained an apartment situated on a LOUD alley, heavily used by police cars, trash trucks, and other assorted commercial vehicles. I swear it was not this way when we left. Or, maybe, my tough city girl skin is still soft from all that lush verdant QUIET English country life. Probably that.

And forget the job situation. What crappy choices I have.

If I were to put a positive spin on the madness, I can say it's nice to live so close to so many intriguing little shops. Our neighborhood got a lot cooler while we were gone. I could just say we live in an undisclosed location of Northwest DC, but I will be a little more specific and name the neighborhood. Drum roll please....We live in Logan Circle.

Yeah, I know. It is a little too cool for us. Believe me, the coolness happened around us, and we just bask in it, slack-jawed and kinda geekily staring...

Anyway. I'm going to push on with this project of mine. I'll get to 365 days even if I happen to skip a few days. Or a month.

So, here is Ol in our apartment. Forgive the mess. He's talking on the telephone to someone very important, I'm sure.

Cause I needed a laugh. (Day 68)

2009-04-02T15:08:00.001-07:00

The China Syndrome, totally the scariest movie ever! (Day 67)

2009-04-01T05:26:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Channel 4! Something to take my mind off the tedium and panic of the move--and all of the thank you cards I must send and those thank-you chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

Look at the young Jack Lemmon! "I knew the vibration wasn't normal."

And the young Jane Fonda!

OMG! "The nuclear reactor is going to blow, and I'm not even a real investigative reporter yet!"

It's "nuc-u-lar," right Richard, ahem, Michael Douglas?

Eesh! China Syndrome.

I'm so excited I almost burnt mah cookies.

Good-bye party Raj Douth, Cambridgeshire (Day 66)

2009-04-01T02:13:00.000-07:00

And so my NCT mommies said their goodbye's.

I am so sick of goodbye's.

I want this to be over. Yet, I find myself hit by incredible inertia. I may never leave this couch. Maybe the movers can just pack me in with all of the other furniture?

I'll be fine with my ipod and a small television.

I'm gonna get you, doggie...(Day 63)

2009-03-29T13:45:00.000-07:00

We so lucked out that fateful Thanksgiving eve when we adopted Veli. Our little Bosnian street pup has the most fantastic temperment. Although she's knocked me to my knees on countless occasions, she's always so careful with Ollie.

Ol wrestling away Vel's blue teddy.

To all outward appearances. (Day 62)

2009-03-28T16:22:00.000-07:00

We're fine. Not panicked. Not stressed.

At least he's not stressed.

He'll never remember England, which makes me sad, as I have so many memories.

When I was first pregnant and could barely make it out of bed, I would take the dog for her morning walk around this park.

When I entered my blissful second trimester, I would take the dog for more leisurely strolls. In the park. In the fields...I'd tuck my ipod into some part of my expanding waistline and tune into a Suspense podcast or Norah Jones or even Russell Brand.

You heard me. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Not seeing these places again...That's hard. I felt the same way about leaving Bosnia, the mountains, and my morning walks around Bentbasa. They were such a part of my life, gave me structure when I had none, gave me routine and beauty. Apart from dear M., I will miss all of this the most.

Here's to finding something new and special.

Yesterday this happened. (Day 61)

2009-03-27T12:12:00.001-07:00

My "Surprise!" goodbye party at work.

You know. There's never a guarantee with jobs. That you'll like it. That the people will be lovely and sane. That the work will be interesting.

This was a good one, though.

That strange English weather. (Day 59)

2009-03-25T15:15:00.000-07:00

It was sunny.

It was windy.

It was rainy.

It looked like snow.

And a tree splintered in the park.