Mayday

May 1st.  A day to be brave.  

This is a post for my Self.

It is also a heartfelt hug for the tens of millions of people, adults and children, who live with anxiety, panic disorder, and OCD.   I am sending a huge good-energy filled squeeze to my big sister who knows all about what I’m talking about, and also to Claire at The Ascent Blog for lending a big dose of bravery mojo.  I’d had this in the drafts folder for weeks when I read her post.  A little push in the right direction… let’s begin.

I was born into this world with my hardwiring all jacked up, and I have suffered from anxiety, panic attacks, and OCD since I was a very small child.  Back in the early 70′s and 80′s, this kind of thing wasn’t really acknowledged yet, certainly not in children.  I was just a “worrier”… and a fair share of weird.  Although my childhood was full of love and laughter, looking back on it now, I know that this child-me still desperately needed understanding and help, and I sometimes allow myself to wonder how I would be different if I’d had help.  Hindsight and all that.

It’s funny.  All through my childhood, I knew that my worrying made me different, that not everybody fixated on problems like I did.  That it was something to hide.  But I had no idea that my other behaviors were of any concern, so seamlessly did I meld them with my intrinsic creative and imaginary world.  It was not until my 20′s, that I learned that what I thought was “normal” was not, and I will always be thankful to the remarkably observant person who very matter-of-factly, and yet very gently, told me that what I was doing without even thinking about it (counting, rechecking, ordering, turning circles, making things ‘even’, etc) was more than just a “quirk”, and that no, not everybody did that.  It was a much needed signpost, one that would help me as my anxiety escalated into my late 20′s.

Just before I turned 30, after a crazy-long, majorly bad episode which resulted in me finally seeking professional help for the first time, I learned that all of this—and I—in fact had a very real diagnosis for a very real problem.   Most alarmingly, I was also told that what I considered my baseline level of anxiety, what I lived with on a day-to-day basis, was ridiculously high.  Worryingly high.  (See what I did there?)  That provided much needed perspective re: what one should feel capable of tolerating.  I thought suffering through my anxiety made me strong.  It did in some ways.  It also broke me down.  Everyone needs relief at some point.  Admitting that need is not a sign of weakness.  It is the first step to getting better.

My brass-knuckles rumble with and eventual reprieve from anxiety/OCD is a long story for another time.  Suffice it to say, therapy and I did not make good dance partners, and I was far too anxious about the possible consequences of taking medications to even consider trying.  I chose instead, for better or worse, to stumble down a different path.   All that need be said now is that I thought that I’d left that fight behind—a year ago, I found some profound answers, used them to heal, and lived this last year completely and utterly anxiety free.

For the first time in my life.

The human brain is a beautiful thing, and when it functions well, it is a marvel to behold.  This last year, I experienced the brilliance and lightness of engaging the world with clarity:   without the heavy tread of irrational, dark, or harmful thoughts wearing ruts through my mind; without the overwhelming mental fatigue from trying to maintain a facade of control and normalcy, just trying to get through the next day, the next hour, the next minute, holding my shit together; without the sheer physical exhaustion of repeated panic attacks and the embarrassment of the controlling OCD behaviors that inevitably accompany the whole mess. It was like being born again, only this time not broken.

But you know, just when you get comfortable, just when you think you’ve got everything figured out, the Cosmos likes to come kick the shit out of you and remind you that there are lessons still to be learned. And in January, I got my ass handed to me with knobs on.

I haven’t yet been at a place where I could examine too closely what happened.  All I know is that one moment I was fine, and the next, I wasn’t.  The timing was horrible—the panic attacks started halfway into the first day of my new job.  Out of the blue.  After over a year of not having any anxiety at all.   And yet, the anxiety had nothing to do with the new job.  It started before the job.  It was just there.  There are no words for how stunned I was, for how low this laid me.  I am still struggling, and though I hate to admit it, have been doing a terrible job of dealing with depression because of it.  I mean, I thought I’d figured out my anxiety thing.  I thought I was healed.  It was like coming out of remission.  It was devastating. But there was no time to even catch my breath—I had a new job to do.

I’ve had years of practice perfecting the art of functioning through anxiety.  It sucks, but it is doable.  When my kids were born, I learned really fast that life and responsibility do not stop for anxiety.   Change a diaper while feeling like you’re having a heart attack?  Yes, you can.  Make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while your brain is wreck over your latest irrational fear?  You bet.  And because I never wanted my children (or anyone else) to know what I was going through, I put a lot of energy into hiding my anxiety.  Ignore the racing heart, breathe through the shakes, tension, and nausea, tamp down the alternating hot and cold flashes.  Focus on being in control.  Focus on calming down.  Breathe.  Smile.  Keep it all inside.

Focus on appearing ok.   Focus on appearing ok.  Focus on appearing ok.

It is an endless cycle of fear, control, relief, fear… and the anxious thoughts loop over and over in your mind like a record skipping. Over and over and over.  It. Just. Won’t. Stop.  With enough practice, however, you can eventually become somewhat detached from the anxiety and the panic.  You can observe it as a foreign thing, set it to the side, and do what needs to be done—whether that’s making the kids lunch, running errands, or trying to succeed at your new corporate job.   I’d done it for years, and I thought I could do it again.  So, I panicked the whole drive to the office.  I panicked during the ride up the elevator.  And then when I walked through the door, I put my solar plexus on lock-down, pasted on a smile, and didn’t panic.  I did my job.  At the end of the day, I had a brief moment of relief as I walked out the door…  and then the panic attacks started right back where they left off.   I even woke up with attacks during my sleep.  It was fun times, let me tell you.

The thing about coping strategies is that they do only that—they help you get through something—but they don’t fix the problem.  They don’t even really make anything better, and you can only go for so long just coping before you burn out altogether.  Ask me how I know.

The new job was surprisingly stressful in it’s own right, and though I was doing well, it was not a good fit for a few key reasons. Otherwise though, it was a pretty damn good gig—super nice co-workers, good hours, great pay.  But I wanted so hard to believe that it was the source of my panic attacks, because then I would have an answer—and relief.  So. Even though I knew in my heart of hearts that my new job was not to blame for my sudden resurgence of anxiety, I gave my notice anyway.  It was the right thing to do because of the “not a good fit” thing, but still.  I wish it had been different.  I did experience a day or so of relief.  A day or so.  That’s the insidious part about anxiety—you can think that you take away all the triggers, but it will find new ones.  It is like the body becomes habituated to the roller coaster-like ups and downs of the crazyass neurochemical cocktails that accompany both the anxious phase and the relief phase of a cycle.  And even when you are able to get a grip, break through the fear, and think rationally about what is happening, it is often not enough to stop the physical response to the episode.  You just have to ride it out.

I’ve been riding this out since January.  And I’m ready for it to stop.  For realz.

Luckily, I finally realized that there were probably some very real physiological reasons why the anxiety might be occurring.  A)  I stopped working out regularly during the holidays.  Lack of physical activity has been a co-trigger before.   Also, B)  my prescription for Vitamin D ran out.  During the winter.  Duh.  Without it, my levels are off-the-charts low.  As soon as I realized that, I started taking it again, and have slowly seen improvement.  It’s amazing how much a low Vit. D level will affect.  And then there are two major dietary things:  1) I’ve been cheating on my paleo diet with peanuts.  A lot of peanuts.  Because peanut butter is freaking delicious all of a sudden, now that I can’t have it.  Lol.  And 2)  I had a month or so where I didn’t eat much kale, which, as you know, is full of EVERY GOOD THING.  And lots of vitamins.  Could that have effected me?  Maybe.  I know that it effected my digestive health—and a ton of serotonin receptors are in the gut.  So, it’s not outside the realm of possibility.  Aside from that, your guess is as good as mine.

It’s interesting to me that the anxiety that I’ve been experiencing only compares to what was once my “normal panic attack” level, but since it’s been a year since I’ve had any, it has felt a lot worse than that.  Harder to handle.  I think part of that is because I really thought I’d never have to “handle” it again.  Now I know.  One of the hardest parts of dealing with this is my disappointment in how I’m dealing with this.  I just kind of shut off.  I haven’t wanted to do anything other than get through the day and go to sleep.  It’s been rough, and I’m trying to dig my way out.  Luckily, I have amazing support at home.  I’m very thankful for my wonderful, brilliant husband who has been so understanding during all of this.  As hard as it is to live with anxiety, I think it must be at least as hard living with someone who has it.  It is not something that is easy for others to understand.  There is no switching it on or off.  It takes an amazing amount of understanding and compassion to deal with the irrationality and lack of control with kindness and support.  I am blessed to have this support now.

So, I’m working on this.  Sometimes we get knocked for a loop, and it’s takes us a minute to shake it off and get going again.  That’s ok, right?  That’s part of life.   We joke that it’s one step forward and two steps back, but I try really hard to see that as a sexy dance.  The merengue of life.  Who wants to walk in a straight line anyway?   When the ocd kicks in, sometimes I do.  Lol.  Just joking.

Queen of Winter

A lot has been going on the last couple months.  Things that have kept me from being creative or productive or myself, really.   Sometime I might be able to write about this, but honestly whether or not I will work up the courage to hit “publish” is another matter entirely.  In the meantime, here is a wonderful example of the subtlety of Nature and a gentle reminder to open one’s eyes and one’s senses so as not to miss the beauty hiding in plain sight all around us.  This is one of my favourite plants in the yard:

Hamamelis vernalis, the Ozark Witch Hazel

During these months, this little shrub is easy to overlook, the eye drawn to the striking silhouettes of greater trees with their stark bones outlined darkly in the winter sky.   She looks like this every year—withered and brown—for a good month or so before I remember what it is that I am actually seeing.  I am slow as molasses.  I always forget and think that those are dead leaves too stubborn to come off their stems.  Like those of the pin oaks that are all too common in St. Louis neighborhoods, dropping dead leaves all winter long.   But they are not.  They are her flowers, beautiful and otherworldly, releasing their heady, spicy-sweet fragrance to the cold spring air—and to anyone who knows well enough to step closer.  I remember to do so.  Eventually.

Just when I’ve had all the winter I can take, the witch hazel sends her gift—a call to awaken.  I need reminders like this often.  Open your eyes!  Look around you!  Breathe deeply!  Wake up!  Time for the sap to rise, time to shake off introspection and move into action.  And always, always time to find beauty no matter what the circumstance is around you.  And when you cannot find it, make it.  Make it!  And know you are not alone.  There is the witch hazel, making beauty while all else succumbs to sleep still.  That is true strength.

Soon enough the sun will shine again.

 

Knit|tinK: A Witch’s House Socks

It took me quite a while to figure out what I wanted to knit with all the yarn samples I dyed on Dye Day #1, but it finally came to me in a semi-blinding flash:  house socks. But not just any house socks.  I wanted to knit a pair of house socks like I imagine Tiffany Aching or Nanny Ogg wearing—thick and warm, functional yet quirky.  If you aren’t familiar with Tiffany Aching or Nanny Ogg, they are two characters from one of my favourite series of books ever in the history of the history:  The Wee Free Men, A Hat Full of Sky, Wintersmith, and I Shall Wear Midnight—all by the amazing author Terry Pratchett.  I will not wax on about the books here, but suffice it to say that they have depths, and although I do not call myself “witch”, if I were to be a witch, I’d want to be Tiffany Aching.

So.  Socks.  Here they are.

Knit toe-up using my trusty go-to sock knitting formula:  Turkish cast-on, my super-easy-super-rounded toe, Cat Bordhi’s Sweet Tomato Heel, Techknitting’s ribbing transition row, and Elizabeth Zimmermann’s sewn bind off.  I meant to do jogless stripes on these, but I totally forgot.  Lol.

I went for a thicker stripe on these—8 rows.  It not only had the look I wanted, but it meant weaving in fewer ends.  I love stripes, but, man, I always forget how much I hate weaving in all those ends.  I call this “stripe amnesia”.  It gets me every time.  48 ends per pair, not including the toe and cuff.  Oy!

But I really like how all of the hand dyed colours went together.  I especially like how much greener the red onion yarn looks next to some of the other colours.  Here’s the line-up:

Starting at the toe—

1. Birch bark overdyed with yellow onion skins
2. Osage orange FAIL overdyed with eucalyptus exhaust
3. Annatto seed
4. Eucalyptus
5. Alkanet root
6. Red onion skins
7. Safflower exhaust
8. Yellow onion skins
9. Red onion skins exhaust
10. Alkanet root
11. Walnut creme overdyed with annatto
12. Birch bark overdyed with yellow onion skins
13. Eucalyptus
14. Yellow onion skins
15. Annatto seed
16. Red onion skins
17. Elm bark
18. Safflower exhaust
19. Red onion exhaust
20. Osage orange FAIL overdyed with eucalyptus
21. Alkanet root
22. Eucalyptus
23. Walnut creme overdyed with alkanet
24. Birch bark overdyed with yellow onion skins
25. Red onion skins

When I was knitting these, I thought that I would stitch felted soles on so that I could pad around the house without worrying about wearing holes in them.  But when all was said and done, I decided that I’d like to be able to wear them in shoes, too.  So I left the felted soles off for now.  We’ll see if I change my mind.  I loved knitting worsted weight socks.  I love wearing them, too.  Super ridiculously cozy and warm.  Perfect for this cold weather.  Glad I got them done before spring!

Live happy, dye happy!   And knit happy, too!

 

 

 

A Hope-filled Plan: Dye Garden

For all the successes that I’ve had with welcoming volunteers into our yard, our raised bed gardens have failed miserably the last couple years.  In all fairness, the weather in St. Louis is shit for most of the “growing season”.  Last summer we had record droughts, a truly inhumane number of days over 100F, and record lows for the Mississippi river (which are still in effect).  I planted radishes in the beginning of June that finally germinated a month later and didn’t grow an inch until mid-September.  The harvest, if I’d picked it, would have come in October.  I kid you not.  Radishes typically go from seed to harvest in roughly a month.  That should tell you how bad it was.

So this year, I’m doing something totally different.  I’m planning a dye garden instead.  Who needs food, anyway?  It’s kind of surprising how few places have a fully stocked catalog of dye plants.  I ended up ordering seeds from 2 different places—The Woolery and Horizon Herbs.  After I’d already ordered from the other two, I found this shop.  Harold has a great assortment of seeds!  I look forward to ordering from this shop in the future.

Here’s what I got:

1. Stinging Nettles (Urtica dioica)
2. Madder (Rubia tinctorum)
3. Motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca)
4. Calendula (Calendula officinalis)
5. Our Lady’s Bedstraw (Galium verum)
6. Gipsywort (Lycopus europaeus)
7. Meadowsweet (Filipendula ulmaria)
8. Dyer’s Woodruff (Asperula tinctoria)
9. Woad (Isatis tinctoria)
10. Weld (Reseda luteola)

I’m hoping to add black hollyhock, coreopsis, and blue false indigo to the list, as well.  To my knowledge, none of the above plants are native to my region, although many have been naturalized.  However, coreopsis (coreopsis tinctoria) and false indigo (baptisia australis) are. There is a variety of nettle native to North America, but I didn’t find it offered at either of the seed companies I used.  My hope is to eventually have a dyer’s garden that is at least in part native varieties.  I already have pokeweed, goldenrod, and elderberry growing in my yard, and I’m trying to figure out what else I can grow.  The majority of native dye plants from this region (that I know of) are trees.  Not the easiest thing to toss into an urban garden.  But I think this will be a good start.  I kind of missed the boat for planting native seeds this year—most need a good period of wet/cold to germinate, and the recommended time to plant is in December or the very beginning of January.  I am hoping to add a number of native varieties this spring, though, by ordering actual plants  The very excellent (and friendly) Missouri Wildflowers Nursery sells both seed and plants.  My wish list is loooooooooong.  Lol.

Now, where to put it all…

Do any of you have dyer’s gardens?  What do you grow?  Any growing tips?  I’d love to hear!

Live happy, dye happy!  And get dirty!

New Year’s Togetherness

The pots and pans were clanged,
the Old Year swept out,

The New Year welcomed in.

Friends and family came to help us put a loving patina on this tradition of ours.

Good food, good company, good spirits.
A happy start on this first day.

Until the last empanada.

So Elevensies comes to an end once more, and we look to the light of the year ahead–horizons brighter, thoughts sussed, and plans a little plannier.

And we are thankful for those who celebrate with us, both in our home and in spirit, the meaning of Togetherness.

May the New Year bring you all good health,much happiness, and every good thing!

~dre

Illumination and Gratitude

The lovely and intrepid traveler Snigdha of GETSETANDGO has nominated Grackle & Sun for the Illuminating Blogger Award.  Thank you very much, Snigdha, for thinking of G & S and including my blog for this award.  I appreciate the love.  :D

The rules for the Illuminating Blogger Award are as follows:

• Visit the blogger who nominated you and thank them (did that).

• Acknowledge that blogger on your own blog and link back to them (did that, too).

• Share a random thing about yourself:  I like birdwatching.  A lot.  This morning, I saw that a few little birds were pecking at the ice that had frozen in the birdbath outside, so I got bundled up and went out to fill it with fresh water.  Apparently, it was the coolest thing I’ve ever done ever, because every single bird in our neighborhood (and possibly from surrounding states) came to drink and bathe in the birdbath.  My birdbath is really just a large bottom tray to a planter (you know the part that catches the water?).  It’s big enough that I put a couple bricks in it so the birds would have something to hop up on in the middle.   We had all sorts of sparrows, nuthatches, titmice (titmouses?), cardinals, blue jays, starlings, robins, flickers, woodpeckers, and what I think was a mockingbird.  So many birds, in fact, that at one point, I had to go change out the water.   But watching them all was so much fun.  So, that was my morning.

• Nominate 5 (or more) blogs for the award, link to their blog, and notify them on their blog.  I nominate the following:

1. Ch’i Journey~Steph inspires me with both her chi running and 1/2 marathon training plan.  I love her insight into becoming a runner, its challenges and joys. She is awesome.
2. Local & Bespoke~Mary is a genius at dyeing, particularly with eucalypts.  I also love her posts about tree identification and stewardship.  And the stealthy cycle-by dyestuff collection runs.
3. Daisey Jayne~Jayne is the craftiest, and I love all the fun projects and beautiful pictures on her blog.  I really love all the reclamation posts.
4. deborahsuejackson~Sue is a very gifted and thoughtful writer and a wonderful photographer.  I’m hoping this award will get her to post more…(hint, hint).
5. A Polish Granddaughter & Escape to Evermore~Michelle (Shelly) is a woman of many talents.  Of course I love her posts on dyeing and knitting, but I also love her posts on family and life.
6. Mountains & Waves~Kate posts about what she loves:  mountains and waves.  I love the photography and how every post makes me want to go outside and stay there.
7. To Watch Me Unfold~Elizabeth has the soul of a poet and the eye of an artist.  I love how thoughtful and beautiful each post is.
8. Agujas~Knitting, quilting, traveling…Veronica’s blog is full of every good thing!  I love her gift for observing and writing about details.  I also love that she asks questions of her readers.

I started my blog as a way of keeping track of processes that I love.  It makes me really happy to know that others enjoy reading it, too.  I’ve met a lot of really wonderful and talented people through this experience, and I am very thankful for that.

Much heartfelt gratitude for everyone who takes the time to stop by Grackle & Sun.

Thank you!

Elevensies!

Happy Solstice, everybody, and happy first day of Elevensies!

The long, dark night is almost over.  Brighter days are ahead.

What is Elevensies, you say?  Let me tell you.  No, I’m not referring to the meal between second breakfast and lunch, although the name is lovingly borrowed from Tolkien’s hobbits as a play on their undeniable understanding of the importance of merriment, good food, and good company, for Elevensies is all about these things.  The long and short of it is that we are not religious folk, and we could not in good conscience continue celebrating a holiday which belongs to a religion of which we are not a part.  But we love all the mid-winter festivities and deeply believe in the importance of maintaining meaningful traditions.  So when the kids were young, Husband and I sat down together and thought of all the things that were important and not important to us, and then we made our own holiday.  And we named it Elevensies.

Elevensies is the celebration of the (typically) eleven days between the Winter Solstice and the New Year.  It is all about the celebration of life in the dark of winter.  It is about honouring seasons and cycles, nature and humanity.  It is about family and togetherness and sharing merriment, good food, and good company with those you love.  It is about being mindful of what is important and casting off that which is not.  Elevensies is about generosity, but it is not about things—although we do get a few small gifts and surprise each other on different days.  Instead, we wanted the focus to be on doing, not buying.  So instead of giving presents, on each day of Elevensies, we do something fun altogether as a family.  It might be simple like going to the movies (which is a treat for us) or it might be something more elaborate like taking a rock climbing class together (shhhhh—the kids don’t know about this one yet).  Traditionally, there is always a day when we go to a bookstore (my daughter’s favorite) and also a day when we make gifts to give to our family members who celebrate Christmas.  We do spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with our respective families, because we recognize that it is important to them, and we’re cool with that.  Sharing those moments are part of Elevensies, too.

We begin Elevensies on the Solstice by decorating the house and remembering that even on the darkest night (and this year, a cold one!),  there is always light and warmth when you are surrounded by people who love you.  Husband takes a fair chunk of vacation time for Elevensies each year, so it’s a holiday in more ways than one, and we all look forward to this relaxed time together.  At the end of Elevensies, on New Year’s Eve, we clean the whole house from top to bottom, smudge it real good, beat pots and pans and make a ruckus, and then at midnight, sweep out the old year and let the New Year in.  This is a tradition taught to us by the Haggencrone, Husband’s grandmother, and it is a very good one.  All it takes is a broom and a firm intention.  Finally, we end Elevensies with our annual New Year’s Togetherness party.   Togetherness is an open house potluck on January 1st, and all our friends and family are invited.  It’s been nicknamed Empanadafest, because my husband, who learned how to make delicious Puerto Rican empanadillas from my mother, sits in the kitchen all day making empanadas as fast as people will eat them.  Last year we packed 65 people in our house, and his empanada count was in the triple digits, lol.  It is a wonderful and auspicious way to start the year.

I wish you all a very wonderful Elevensies in addition to whatever holidays you celebrate.  May this be a time of magical marvelousness and blessed togetherness for you.   And remember, all traditions first began with an idea, a belief, and a person saying, “Let’s do this.”  Traditions and the rituals surrounding them are spoken in the language of our subconscious minds and also of our hearts—that is to say, with imagery, symbols, senses, and feelings.  It is important to pay attention to them, to give them space to expand.  We make our own meaning in life, and our lives should reflect what we most deeply believe.

Merriest of the Merry!

Many Happy Returns Today

Today is my 16th wedding anniversary.  My husband rocks.  And he is my best friend in the universe.  And he’s hot.  And awesome.   The thing I am always reminded of when I tell people how long we’ve been married (because most have a hard time believing me) is that it takes 2 whole people to make 1 whole couple.  He’s not my other half.  He is David.  And I am dre.  And together we are love.

And it’s also our son’s 13th birthday!  :D

WOOT!

Transitional Winds

Although I come from the West, and left a bit of my soul there to guide me home, I grew up in the old, worn down mountains of the Missouri Ozarks.  It is a land that is very changeable.  A land that like Crowded House sang about, can often have four seasons in one day.  It is now December, and although last week we saw temperatures in the 20s, yesterday was almost 70 degrees.  It will do this back and forth well unto January, when winter will finally decide to settle in for a month or so.

The weather here has never fit the model of the seasons that I was taught in school as a child—each season having its 3 months at the prescribed regularly occurring times.  Winter from December to February; Spring from March to May; Summer from June to August; Autumn from September to November.  No, our temperatures rise and fall on the thermometer with a mercurial playfulness that makes gardening, planning picnics, and even dressing a daily guessing game.

There is one thing that can be counted on like clockwork, however, and that is the wind.  I am an air sign, not that I believe in that kind of thing.  Mostly.  Even so, I have always had an affinity for all things air and a natural inclination for observing the moods of the wind.  One such observance is that which I call ‘Transitional Winds’, that is, the winds that blow the out the old and blow in the new.  This is something that I have experienced since I was a child.  They occur at specific times of year when the seasons are changing, and while it sounds a little woo-woo, it is a very real, observable, tangible phenomenon.  The wind becomes different.  It used to bother me, make me restless and unsettled.  That’s how I knew when they were coming—I’d get all jumpy in my solar plexus, and the hair would raise on the back of my neck.  I had a lot of cultural superstition and a mighty religious lens to work around back then.  The lens was not my own, but nonetheless made it hard to make peace with what spoke to me.  Things are much different now.

It also happens that as these Transitional Winds keep the wheel of the seasonal cycle shifting, they also typically coincide with major shifts in my life.  Maybe it’s coincidence.  Maybe it’s my brain seeking patterns where there are none.  Or maybe it is as I see it.  Either way, it is how I live it.  And this year’s autumnal Traditional Winds were no exception.  The thing about Transitional Winds is that you can either fight them and get blown to shit, or you can allow them to bring needed change in your life and use the time to examine and reevaluate what gets stirred up.  The only way to grow is to change.  All things are impermanent.  Transitional Winds remind us to shake up the spirit, to blow the cobwebs off the soul, turn things upside down, and get to work.

The most major change recently is that following my daughter’s decision to leave homeschooling so that she might attend a new charter Arts Academy, my son, out of the blue, decided in mid-October to do the same.  My kids are artsy, and they wanted both a new experience and to have the opportunities that a school with daily multi-discipline arts instruction could provide.  So, I went from living a decade of unschooling and progressive, child-led learning philosophy and education to having kids in public school (gasp!) and me looking for a day job in the span of one week.  Whoa.    And though I struggled with it for a good minute, seeing both of my kids doing well in said school, despite my continued disillusionment and disagreement with the American Educational System, has been very reassuring and rewarding.  Realizing that I am now free to pursue interests that I’d put on hold is also ridiculously exciting in a quiet, can’t-quite-say-it-all-out-loud kind of way.    As wonderful as homeschooling was, it was a tremendous responsibility—one that I must admit to bearing with difficulty at times.  Like every worthwhile thing in life, it was not always  cuddly puppies and sparkly rainbows.   I had to learn my unschooling mantra very quickly:  Observe, Reflect, Adjust.  It was a challenge to give two completely different kids with two completely different learning styles everything that they needed each day.  I did my best.  My degree and certification in Elementary Education was, contrary to what most people thought, often more of a hindrance than a help.  I had a lot to unlearn and relearn properly, you see.  Homeschooling was, however, a fantastic journey and one I’d do again in a heartbeat.  I think the Chickpeas would, too.

It seems that I am looking down the barrel of finding a new job, potentially a new career, and I’m totally stoked.  I’d feel conflicted about it, but the Chickpeas are happy with their choice, and that, it seems, was the key to my new-found liberation.  It is an amazing double truth of motherhood—from the moment your first child quickens in your womb, one full part of your brain is always on them, dedicated to their health, safety, and well-being; and when your children are happy, you can be happy, too.  Knowing that they are where they want to be—even if it was not where I imagined in a million years they would be—feels really good.  Not being solely responsible for their educations feels good, too.  I feel lighter than I have in years. Happy to just be Mom.

So what is next?  Well, for a decade I’ve said that I would never go back to teaching.  And I meant it.  I have no desire to teach in a regular school setting, because we’ve got two very different philosophies of education, how children learn, and what is in their best interest.  Trying to fit in that system would require lying to myself and everyone else in ways that I do not find acceptable—which is to say, at all.  But I do love teaching.  Rather, I love helping to facilitate and guide learning.  There’s a difference.   I don’t want to waste a perfectly good degree—one that can give me a steady job (that is NOT waiting tables), a meaningful career, be a positive influence on the lives of children, and someday help us to retire.  So I started thinking about under what circumstances I would feel good about returning to the profession of teaching, and immediately I thought of the different types of “alternative”, progressive models of schools out there:  Reggio Emilia, Sudbury, free skool, and Montessori  to name a few.  I had studied, albeit briefly, a few of these different philosophies and methods when I was at University, but soon found that while my degree required that I know they exist, it did not require that I learn how to pursue working within those models.  In practice, it was actually discouraged, which is sad because I felt a real spark for these models even as a green teacher-in-training.   Now I have been revisiting these models with a different kind of experience under my belt, and I have a steadily growing realization that this is the direction I need to take.  As it turns out, my decade as an unschooler (which is its own story) probably taught me more about education, how children really learn, and the true role of a teacher than I ever learned in my degree program.   As I am relearning the tenets of these models, I’m realizing that I pretty much unknowingly gave my kids a Reggio Emilia and Montessori inspired education for the last ten years.   That makes me smile.

There aren’t very many “progressive” schools where I live here in the good ole Heartland, but that is sloooooowly changing.  I was very happy to find that there are several Montessori training centers right here.  I’m not only looking into adding a Montessori certification to my credentials, but I’ve been interviewing with a couple schools for assistant positions (all Montessori teachers have to start out as assistants).  I’m really excited about the potential for working within a school environment that is harmonious with my beliefs about education and child development.  Keep your fingers crossed.  Good things are happening.  Now I have the challenge of being patient, waiting for others’ decisions and seeing what opportunities pan out.

On other fronts, I’ve been spending a lot of time considering my new passion for natural dyeing and how to better integrate it with other aspects of my life that are similar—native gardening, sustainability, simplicity… I find myself wanting to more fully settle into these practices and flesh them out not only individually, but also to suss out how they can work together.  I’ve recently been inspired by the projects of others who are working to be more sustainable in their use of fiber and textiles—right down to the clothes they wear and what they’ll use for crafting.  I’ve got a lot incubating in my head about that.  I’ve also been following my usually dip into wintertime introspection and examining how I am living out my beliefs in my daily life.  There’s been more sussing out on a spiritual level about the connection between soulwork, physicality, and how one can be an atheist and a pagan-daoist-stoic all at the same time.  I finally made peace with the fact that I’ve known for decades what my path is, I just had to accept that it doesn’t have words, titles, labels, or names.  It is not tidy, but it is real, and my goal now is to find a voice for what I do, so that it can be outside my head, too.  Talking about things like ‘Transitional Winds’ is a start.   I’m thinking ahead to what the New Year is going to bring with an optimism that I haven’t felt in a while.  I feel firmly in my skin and happy to encounter new adventures.

Here’s to Transitional Winds and the lessons they bring.

Office Chair Workouts: Week 19

Links to the videos for all these exercises can be found here in the post from Week 14.  This is the last week of my month-long challenge of incorporating LovingFit exercises into my workouts.  I’ve definitely noticed an improvement in strength and my overall ability to perform most of these moves, but the shoulder issue is still problematic.  Actually, I found that it became worse with some of these exercises that I was hoping would help (like the wall climbers, crab side plank lift, and 1/2 dive bombers), and so I pretty much took them out of rotation.  I’m kind of at a loss for what to do.   I’d love to get to the point where I can do the LovingFit workouts as-is, but I’m just not there—not without a lot of modifications.  But I worry that by just pulling individual exercises from them and incorporating those, I’m missing the bigger picture of the workouts as they are designed.  I either need to be ok with that, or I need to be ok with only kinda-sorta doing the workouts as presented.  Food for thought.

Monday:  Upper Body

• Diagonal Bear Push-ups
• Slow Pull Down
• Walk Over Scissor Planks
• Circle Shoulder Press
• Double Bicycle
• Mt. Climber Push-off

All exercises x 12 reps.  Had to stop at 1 set.  Stupid rotator cuff.  Nearly face-planted on the last Mt. Climber Push-off.  Then I get so MAD, that I have to bully through just to finish a workout at all.  But it’s a weenie thing to quit over.   So, I did another set.  Had to modify the Mt. Climber Push-off to just a Push-off.  On my knees.  But I did it.  So there.

Dre: 1

Rotator cuff: 0

Tuesday:  Lower Body

Something a little different than what I usually do.  Only 4 exercises.  Part 1, each exercises is timed 1 minute on, 15 seconds off.  5 rounds for the squats, 6 rounds for the other 2.

• Go-Stop-Go Squats (managed 11 on every round, total of 55)
• Step Up Knee Up (did either 15 or 16 on each round, total of approx. 45 per leg)
• Cook Lift (averaged around 40 per round, total approx 120 per leg)

Total Time:  22 minutes

Part 2:  Isometric Squat Side Bends.  20 per side.  These are way harder than they look!

The Rest of the Week:  :/

I worked extra this week, and therefore was extra tired.I had two, count ‘em, TWO job interviews which were in the time slots when I’d usually work out.
And there was a doctor’s appointment in there somewhere, too.

Read this as:  I got lazy and made excuses and didn’t work out the rest of the week.

Why?  Dude, I don’t know.  Some days—I’m not even kidding about this—it is as simple as if for some reason my workout gets shifted to a later time, I won’t have enough time for my hair to dry after a shower before I have to go to work, or that it will mean taking 2 showers (and isn’t that just ridiculous and wasteful?).  Typing that for the general public to read just instantly put that into perspective, let me tell you.  I let little things derail me from things that I really do find important.  I have spent my whole life being one of those people who never does the same thing at the same time two days in a row—ie, I’m inconsistent.  But I’ve always desired consistency.  Go figure.  My blogging friend Stephanie wrote a really great post about this same issue.  It appears that we were both riding the excuse train this week.  :/  I love her idea of a motivation board on Pinterest.  I also like that reading her post made me have to sit with the reality of this issue and get up close and personal with it.   Not easy, but necessary.  And good.

The positive that all of this has shown me is that I have changed in a small but very important way.  It used to be that getting derailed even once would mean the kiss of death for my new “healthy habit”.  I’d just quit altogether.   I don’t do that anymore.  I get back on the horse over and over and over again.   I am thankful for this small victory, and I hope that one day it will transform into something resembling consistency.    I have another job interview tomorrow.  My goal is to work out afterward even if it means I have to take 2 showers, lol.