Crazy Chaotic Class Creates Clever Challenge-Management

Rehearsal cancelled last night to offer our cast a much-needed night off to regroup and process what we'd been working so diligently. Feeling a little frayed at the edges, I thought I'd make use of the free night with a calm evening of Slow Flow Yoga at the Shelter. Re-focus a bit. Ground myself. Find that inner calm. 

Well, I found what I needed. But not how I expected to find it ... 

First, the instructor -- the Shelter founder's sister who always leads a stirring class -- had jet-lag from her training trip to India. (Totally understand that.)  Hence, a last-minute replacement instructor -- Destiny by name -- was called in. Then, Destiny had car issues. And thus, class started about 15 minutes late. 

No problem. I made use of the time to meditate, focus, chill, stretch and clear my head. Did some visualization to settle my busy mind. Do you recall how adults sound in those Charlie Brown cartoons? Well, as I sat in what was a very full room last night, that's what I heard. As time passed and class didn't begin, voices and conversations flowed through my head getting louder and louder. At some point, I recognized that the couple in front of me was speaking French! I found my mind reactivating in an effort to interpret but then made the choice to let that flow through as well. The result was a cacaphony of chaos flitting about inside my already fatigued mind.

Destiny arrived. The teacher that is. And the Flow began. Zoinks what a Flow it was! And though I can honestly state that the evening was not what I had set out expecting to experience, it turned out that it helped me find exactly what I needed -- physically, emotionally and mentally.

Poses came about differently. Warm up, balances and side planks. Twists and turns then half moon and reverse half moon. Chair to chair prayer twists on the toes and standing splits. Grounded crescent to crescent twists. It came at me like a tennis ball from one of those batting-cage like machines.  Music seemed a bit loud and out of sync with my anticipated definition of "Slow Flow" tunes. I dripped sweat more than I recall from any recent classes. And, at the conclusion of what I believe was a full hour of poses crammed into 49 minutes, I felt like one of those dishrags you ring out after doing a plethora of holiday dishes -- well used, stretched out and limp. But SO relaxed. And SO good.

It was a whirlwind. And it was JUST what I needed.

I got the message. When the unexpected disaster or challenge comes your way, you can let it break you or shake it off and keep going. You can stumble and fall and stay down. Or, you can stumble, fall, get back up and moving. You can let it throw you or you can let it flow through. You can fight it or you can embrace and experience.

Cause it happens. People do unexpected stuff. Life happens. The lines you expect or want to hear are not what come. You have to think on your feet ... stay focused and in the moment. The roads are slick and you have to reject the inclination to panic and opt for calm. The lights are set wrong. The car doesn't start. The weather thwarts the best laid plans. The words you want to hear or the call you hope to get doesn't happen. In these moments, only You can decide not to fall apart and pull it together. And you have to prepare mentally and physically and emotionally for those moments cause they Will come.

As I'm personally managing a crazy schedule and embarking on some more stressful moments in upcoming days and weeks, Destiny's class reminded me how to manage ... how to Let It Flow. 

Amidst the drama, rejections, twists and turns, silence, sludge, disconnects, demands, sounds and undesirable "stuff" that flies your way, consider choosing your challenge-management cure now.  I can pretty much predict that when it actually hits you won't have a nice calm environment to evaluate options. You'll have to do it on the fly.

You might even have to do it in a Slow Flow yoga class.

Thanks Destiny for reminding me that you can find calm in chaos. 'Cause that's truly when you need to find it.
                                                                                    -- Jenni

Shades of Grey … Confessions of a Hopeful Romantic

In 2012 E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey hit the book-stand and took the world by storm. What began with one little book transformed the romance industry and elevated a shadowed genre into the mainstream.

Perhaps it wasn’t actually a "new" genre. Heck, I'm sure it's been around. Underground. But suddenly extremely and intense … um … detailed ... um -- let's just define them as "aspects of love" -- went mainstream in the vivid manner they were captured in print. No matter how you feel about the characters, the subject, the plot, the choices made or the writing in general, these books obtained both popularity and notoriety. 

Everyone was talking about them. Everyone had an opinion about them. Everyone had heard about them. Sales sky-rocketed, resulting in the release of numerous new trilogies following the "aspects of love" introduced so graphically in Fifty Shades. The Crossfire Series by Sylvia Day and Stark Series by J. Kenner are just a couple examples. Scroll through Barnes & Noble or Amazon.com’s websites for books with similar themes to Fifty Shades and Fifty trilogies come up.

As a savvy reader, I found myself curious. What was this book all about? What was it about Fifty Shades that was sucking in the readers? Was it "all that?" So.... yes, I read it. In fact I read all three.  (This Trilogy concept of writers nowadays is becoming rather annoying. I can't read just one book to get the story? I have to read three??? But that's another blog.) 

I downloaded the books to my Nook. A common choice with this series I have discovered. When it's on an electronic reader, it can be read anywhere. And no one is the wiser. Again, an interesting element of this genre. And yes, I was intrigued enough to read to the end.

Now, I'm not for a minute stating that the "aspects of love" described in this tale are the way to go for the mainstream. Fifty Shades dealt with a specific lifestyle choice -- and examined some of the reasoning behind that choice too if you read to the end. I'm not in any way approving or advocating victimization or domination or cat o' nine tales or physical abuse. That's not what I'm saying here at all. No, this book involved consenting "characters" making choices on their own and shined a spotlight, taking these "aspects of love" into mainstream popular novels. I'm not getting into a debate about the subject matter or peoples' rights to choose how to express love to another consenting adult. We're all unique individuals and what's right for some isn't right for others. 

No, I'm just observing here and admitting that I was intrigued by this book series. And I don't think I'm the only one out there who was drawn in by the storytelling crafted by E.L. James. 

This week, all the conversation and focus has turned to the movie. People are slamming or laughing or commenting or criticizing. BUT -- and this is what I find so curious -- they are GOING. People are talking about it. People are buying tickets -- no matter what the critics say. They are taking dates. And they are watching this film. The Fifty Shades movie whipped up $81.7 Million its opening weekend!

What is that? Why is that? Curiosity? Hype? Perhaps, like me, they are simply curious ... perhaps they wonder where these "aspects of love" lead? And, if people are curious, they will read on or buy that ticket to find out themselves in the safe environment of a movie theater or their own imagination. No judgement here ... just an observation.

Whatever the case, Fifty Shades has sparked a writing revolution. Bared to You, Reflected in You, Entwined with You, Release Me, Claim Me, Complete Me. WOW! That doesn't draw in the Pearl Series or Glass Series or these numerous other trilogies out there that have continued to explore these ... um ... detailed "aspects of love."  

When I started to read "romance" novels, it was Victoria Holt and Phyllis A. Whitney that inspired my imagination and made my heart race with their tales and characters.  I liked the romantic settings and the intrigue. MM Kaye gave me India in Far Pavilions. Jane Austen gave me Mr. Darcy. Charlotte Bronte gave me Mr. Rochester. And Emily Bronte gave me my beloved Heathcliff. These strong male characters all had their own issues but I'm still drawn to their stories. Anyway ... as detailed and creative as these stories were, there were few graphic scenes. 

My reading selections are really beside the point but I have them. I remain a hopeful romantic. By choice. But Fifty Shades has commandeered and created a spin-off to the romance genre that no one could have predicted. People are talking about it -- if they object to it or not, they still are giving it air time. And that makes me curiouser and curiouser. 

Yes, I read the Shades. No, I didn't explore any of the spin offs. One series of this type was sufficient. I personally prefer a little more romance in my reads. I'll take Jamie Fraser and the Outlander series any day. I'll take images of Scotland and dashing highlanders over red rooms and safe words. I'll take Healthcliff and the moors. Stories that inspire my imagination and dreams.

But, that's just me. 

                                                                                     -- Jenni

The Best Of Times

The best of times are when I’m alone with you.

Some rain some shine, we’ll make this a world for two.

Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime.

We’ll take the best, forget the rest

And someday we’ll find …. These are the best of times.

                             - Styx/Paradise Theatre

Today is my daughter's 10th birthday. And once again, a few days prior to this illustrious day, I hosted her little girl birthday party. I began this tradition with her 4th Birthday and have continued hosting the party in my home and coordinating all the aspects of these special events -- baking, crafting, planning, decorating, creating ideas and favors and so on. 

This year's theme followed the storybook lives of the 2nd generation of fairy tale characters. Ever After High introduces us to Snow White's daughter as well as the Wicked Queen's daughter and their many fairy tale friends. There are dolls, of course, dressed in clothing, tights and shoes only a doll could wear -- though I seriously want the SHOES! Anyway, Ever After High is relatively new so there's no "party stuff."  Of course NOW since I've paved the way, by next year I'm sure there will be tons of supplies. 

My daughter and I are always trendsetters when it comes to birthday themes.

I vow at the conclusion of every party every year that "this is the last one I host." And, I always purchase a post-event bottle of wine to celebrate my achievement after hosting and remaining sane at the conclusion of a successful event. The ability to manage an afternoon (or overnight) with high-pitched, high-energy, very busy little girls is worthy of honor. But, I know it's an empty threat. I enjoy it too much (yeah, I'm sick that way I guess.) The challenge thrills me. It gives me a creative rush to come up with a theme and all the necessary and related elements every January. Heck, I think it gets me through the post-holiday/January blahs. And this year, it was even more fun.

This year, my daughter and I truly created this event together. We selected the invitation together. We assigned character roles to each friend, casting carefully who would be who. We shopped for craft supplies and favors together. We baked together. We made cookie dough from scratch, cut out sugar cookies and frosted them. We prepared the cake batter and frosting. We experimented and created apple-looking cake pops, complete with a sparkly red candy coating. We decorated the table and counter and arranged the favor bags. And it was genuine fun.

The Best of Times -- to quote one of my favorite teenage songs -- are those kind of moments. Sure, I could hire someone or go out somewhere and let someone else do the work. I could order a cake. I could hire a cleaning company. But I gain true pleasure from creating this little party for my daughter and her friends. I honestly enjoy baking and doing all the prep with my daughter. These special moments mean a lot. And I have a feeling she will remember these moments long after she's forgotten what I bought her.

The Best of Times are different for everyone. You may not personally enjoy baking or planning a little girl birthday gig. Perhaps your Best of Times is a game afternoon with family or friends, or assembling legos, or playing tennis, or an afternoon at the beach. Perhaps it's being on stage or performing with a special friend or family member -- perhaps its sitting in the audience and watching that someone special and celebrating together. It doesn't matter what the "thing" you do is. What's important is time spent with people you truly care for ... the individuals that you truly enjoy being with.

Who are those people for you? Do they know? Do you tell them? Do you reach out with a phone call or write a text or a letter or an email? Do you send them a thank you note when they select a special gift or touch you in some unique way? Do you call to make plans for lunch or coffee or a drink to simply spend time together?  

A friend once remarked ... People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care ... (Not sure where that came from, though sources say Theodore Roosevelt.)

So, do they know? How do you tell them? How do you choose to show them? Physical expressions ... written words ... spoken kindness ... special plans... Oh, it really doesn't have to be something major to mean something big.

People come in and out of our lives. But their presence leaves an impression -- footprints on our hearts if you will. The Best of Times are spent with such people. Fleeting moments can leave lasting marks on our souls. Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime ...

In discovering your Best of Times, you define the people most precious to you and the aspects of life you most treasure. They may be birthday events or simple moments reading a story to your kid. They may be family bike rides or vacations to exciting places. They may be quiet conversations sitting at a bar or walks and hot chocolate by the moonlight. They may be dancing classes or trips to the American Girl store. They may be evenings spent companionably on a couch reading or outings to the movies. They may be a casual dinner at a favorite place or cocktails in the backyard.  

There's no limits or rules that define the Best of Times. Just find a way to Honor them for what they offer ... and the people for what they bring to you ... and what you give to them. 

You may never choose to host a little girl birthday event. But watching those girls as I have for the past 7 parties I've planned has been a blessing and joy. Sharing an afternoon with them crafting and giggling and celebrating is one of the Best of Times for me. And getting it ready, laughing and licking batter from spoons with my daughter, well, that's pretty much The Bestest! 

And I tell her so every day...

                                                                                                                    -- Jenni

Books Are Like A Box of Chocolates ...

I love to read. Followers of my blog will know that. You'll have heard about it or noted in a quote, title or reference from earlier blogs. I have a Goodreads Account where I log the books I read. It helps me remember an author I particularly enjoyed. Goodreads friends can learn more and find new books ... and I find books thanks to them. Once in a while, I take the time to provide a review or response to a book I've read. And, I have a Goal to not only read 49 books in 2015 but to complete the 2015 Classics Challenge. My friend and fellow blogger Ron tossed out the gauntlet from Ron's Bookshelf, and I decided to pick it up.

So three weeks into January and "The Challenge," here's what I have discovered. Books are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get until you bite into them ... and some of them are chewy ... some are smooth like caramel ... some are milky sweet while others are dark ... some are filled with nuts ... and some are just plain dry. 

The first step in Ron's Challenge was to read a book by a woman writer. Now, based on Ron's criteria defining classics as books 50 years or older there were lots of options open to me. In his challenge, various categories outline the different types of books you will explore during the year. One key requirement though is it's not a book you've already read.

So, a woman writer and a book that I haven't read eliminated Austen and both Bronte sisters. It eliminated Louisa May Alcott's Little Women since I think I at least read part of that book as a child. I considered du Maurier but since I've read several of her books already and enjoyed each one I thought I should begin the challenge with someone completely new. Same was true of Agatha Christie. I considered Mary Shelley since I have not yet read Frankenstein, but decided to save her for a later category.

So, I examined my bookshelves and pulled from it a copy of something I'd long wanted to read but hadn't gotten around to it ...Isek Dinesen's Out of Africa.  

For those of you who read the name and thought Isek was a man, uh uh. Isek is better know as Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke -- if you saw the film based on the book Meryl Streep might come to mind. And Out of Africa was written in 1937, setting it securely into The Classic Realm. Thus satisfied, I settled into my cozy reading chair with a cup of tea, blanket and book.

This is where the Chocolate analogy come in ... yes, I'm getting to it ... Out of Africa was no romance novel and it wasn't a smooth caramel read either. It wasn't nutty or dry. Just ... chewy. It took time and engaged my mind fully.

For those of you, like me, who adore the film, let me just say that the book and the film have a very loose relationship. With exception of the title, key characters and select places, I'm not sure how the film was crafted from this particular book. There must have been some other source to create the tale I saw on screen. See, very little happened in the book that happened in the film ... save the fact that Karen "had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills." Once in a great while, a line or a comment resembling one from the film appeared ... like Kamente's "I think that you had better get up, Msabu. I think that God is coming." But that's pretty much where the alignment ends.

Many of the beloved characters were there ... Farah, Kamente, Denys, Barkley and, of course, Karen. But of her husband I read nothing. And of the romance between Denys and Karen ... well, if there was one, it didn't appear very significant in this book. And the club and the toast ... the plea to the Governor ... if it happened, it didn't happen in this book.

So, if I was looking for a romance read, this wouldn't be it. HOWEVER ...

The writing style was poetic and filled with beautifully crafted descriptive elements that made the sites, sounds and smells of Africa come alive. I could truly see the colors in the sky, hear the sounds of the lions, feel the dust during a drought or the itchy feeling of grasshoppers after their horrible visitation. I heard the echo of her footsteps on the porch and the sound of her cuckoo clock. I saw the giraffes and elephants. 

Many lovely, poignant observations were made. I found myself tearing little pieces of paper to mark when a particular comment moved me. Chapters were less linear and more like I was reading Karen's personal journal. With this book, I not only selected an author I'd never read, but experienced short stories, non-fiction and a book based on a movie -- well, loosely. 

There was one observation that I found quite compelling: "People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not, a placid ecstasy, and ease of heart, that are like honey on the tongue. They also know that the real glory of dreams lies in their atmosphere of unlimited freedom. It is not the freedom of the dictator, who enforces his own will on the world, but the freedom of the artist, who has no will, who is free of will. The pleasure of the true dreamer does not lie in the substance of the dream, but in this: that there things happen without any interference from his side ... and altogether out of his control. Great landscapes create themselves, long splended views, rich and delicate colours, roads, houses, which he has never seen or heard of ..."

Out of Africa, by Isek Dinesen/Karen Blixen was a chewy read. The passages were thick with descriptive elements. (I admit I had to take a little break in the midst of this read to allow my eyes and mind a quick respite with a delightful coffeehouse mystery (Billionaire Blend by Cleo Coyle) -- something Ron not only approved but endorsed in his blog!) But since I've never personally traveled to Africa, I read this book with intent and received the full gamut of this unique lifestyle without the expense of a ticket to Kenya. Save the final few chapters, there truly wasn't a plot to speak of ... oh, okay, she traveled to Africa and farmed coffee. The book examines the impact of that choice, the people and places she experienced resulting from that choice, and the changes she faced -- including the loss of the farm -- based on that choice. Of Denys, there is very little written. So, I didn't get any sense of romance between them.  Have to admit, I missed that. 

But in the end, I fell more in love with Africa with each page. And I walked with her up the hill where Denys was buried. My romantic nature was satisfied as I read about how the lions did come there, to Denys' final resting place -- one male and one female -- to look over their domain. 

So I guess the romance to be found in Karen's book was the adventure of farming coffee and the challenges of life in Africa during the early days of the 20th Century ... of native encounters, safaris and wildlife. The romance in Out of Africa-the book was found in her eloquent ability to paint with words an enticing and sensory tale of the Kenya of days past ... and make us long for our own farm at the base of the Ngong Hills. 
                                                                                                                 -- Jenni

What's In A Name?

"What's in a name?

A rose by any other word would smell as sweet ..."

Romeo & Juliet 
William Shakespeare

There's a gentleman at my corner grocery store. He's always friendly and helpful. When I look like I need help, he asks what I'm searching for. If I can't find something I need, I can ask him. He doesn't simply tell me where it  is. No. He goes beyond that. He actually takes me to the item and makes sure I have what I need before he walks away.

He's always pleasant, in that corner grocery store manner of days gone by. In fact, everyone who works at the store is like that. I can honestly say that's one of my reasons for shopping there as often as I do. In a few simple moments, I connect with another human being.

In those few simple moments, I feel a little lighter. I smile a little brighter. 

Doesn't matter whether I'm just stopping in for milk or filling my cart, there is a kindness and a joy to this store and the people who work there. For a while though, he knew my name and always made that personal remark when I was shopping -- easier to do since they run my credit card and see it -- but (shamefully I admit) I didn't know his name. So, I asked Matt -- the owner. And then I gently suggested that he consider Name Tags.

Do you have a "local" grocery store? Or a "local" market or shop? There is truly nothing like the welcoming feeling of a place where everybody knows your name. And it's nice to give that back by using the name of that person helping or serving you. I always try to take that time to look at a name tag and thank people who help me by name. I don't dismiss others based on their jobs .... A person's a person no matter how small (so sayest Horton.) And he's right. 

The gentleman at my corner store is Jim. He waves when I drive by and always takes the time to ask about me and my family. And, now that I know his name, it's even easier to say hello. One day in the busy month of December, I wasn't feeling well and had stopped for juice and soup. Jim carried my groceries to the car. The next time I shopped, he asked me if I was feeling better. 

Why is that important? I guess to me it makes me feel good when people show I matter to them. And by using their name and making eye contact, it shows that I value not only the service they are providing but them as individuals. I feel it is important to take the time to pay attention to the people who I come into contact with no matter their "title."  Showing interest offers validation. It honors and pays respect to the people who surround us, work with us or serve us on a regular basis. A title or paycheck doesn't make one person more significant than other. We're all connected. We rely on each other. And, we need to value each other.

  

I have a friend who gets that ... uses my name in emails or in a text or face to face. It feels good. To hear my name or see it in writing. It means in that moment, he was thinking about me solely. That I wasn't a casual correspondence. At that time, we were connected. It means something even when we're not face to face.

So many people are in such a hurry. They walk down the street searching through their cell phone. They don't make eye contact with the people they see or meet regularly. They don't have time to say genuine words to the Barista making their coffee or the attendant ringing up their groceries. They appreciate the yoga instructor that guides them thru class but they don't take time to say thank you or ask them about their day. 

A waiter or waitress -- or flight attendant for that matter -- usually introduces him or herself when arriving to serve. But how many of us truly pay attention to their name? How many of us use it or make casual conversation with that server we find so easy to dismiss out of mind? 

My elementary school janitor's name was Mr. Claypool. I remember him well. I remember saying hello to him every day. His job was certainly not an easy one. How many janitors do you know? Have you ever stopped to say hello? 

The grocery store clerks vary depending on where I shop. But most wear name tags that are easy to see, if I pull my head from my cell phone or lists long enough to say hello when they ring up my groceries.  I tend to have enough groceries that we strike up a little casual conversation. I like to think they offer me something and I do that in return as they stand behind that register on their feet all day. 

The Barista asks my name when preparing my drink of choice. Isn't it a nice gesture to thank them using theirs before moving along to wait for the non-fat, grande cinnamon dolce latte with whip? Heck, if they are going to the trouble to make my order to such lengthy specifications, a simple thank you and use of their name is the least I can offer.

It's all about looking up. Looking around. Looking outside of yourself and your own drama. Connecting. 

Used to be a local bar named Rumors. As a young single on a limited income, I would hang out there with my friends. That bar was as close to a "Cheers" as any bar I have ever known. I knew the bartender by name. I knew the wait-staff. I've found a few other bars like that around. Those are the ones I choose to go because I feel welcome. I feel like they are glad I'm there.  

When I see Jim at the corner store, we talk. He's a neat guy. I don't know a ton about him but he's good people. He makes shopping there just a little more enjoyable.  I'm not saying we have to be best friends with "the world," but eye contact, a smile and use of a person's name go a long way these days.

What's in a name? Identity. Individuality. Personality. I like it when people use mine and I bet you like to hear your own. It offers you a momentary flicker of connection. That's more than some people ever achieve. 

What's in a name? Quite a lot. We all have one. Making a genuine effort to use them ... to create a connection with someone you don't truly know but see all the time ... well, that's pretty sweet. 

                                                                                          -- Jenni

Careful The Things You Say...

Twenty years ago ... it's strange to see that in writing but it is nonetheless the truth ... I was lucky enough to perform in a production of Into The Woods. We had a tremendous cast, great costumes and a lot of fun. I mean, playing Cinderella can't be anything but ... right?

Well, twenty years later the lessons taught by the songs and script in that musical still resonate with me. And perhaps this is the case never before as much as they caught me unawares this year. Kinda ironic, considering the play just came out as a movie. Or, perhaps, I'm just more self-aware now. Perhaps I'm just more "in tune" to the subtle and not so subtle "nudges" from the Universe. (No pun intended.)

Last January in my post "The White Shirt," I announced that I had chosen One Thing for 2014. A word. I selected a personal theme for the year and my role in it. In my first draft, I shared the word. Then, I decided to keep that to myself and edited it out. Well, my reading friends, the secret is out. I was going to Shine.

That's it. And for someone who likes sparkles, glitter and bling the way that I do, I didn't imagine that would be as difficult a task as it turned out to be. I didn't realize that by saying that out loud, I was throwing caution to the wind and daring the Universe to thwart my ambition. To challenge me.

But, as the Witch in Into The Woods stated, "Careful the things you say ..." See, the Universe listened. But the result for 2014 was NOT what I envisioned when the word popped into my head. It was NOT what I expected. It was NOT what I had planned. I mean ... expectations are great but they don't always unfold they way we "expect" them to ...

2014 wasn't a "terrible" year for me, as years go. It was fine. But it was a bit of a let-down in many ways. There were very few personal highlights and more disappointments for me than I like to experience or admit. Some losses devastated me for a time. Some sent me off-line and off the grid. Some stress pushed me beyond what I liked to manage. Some struggles I would have preferred to avoid. Some family challenges and health stuff that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

So there it is. I said I was gonna Shine and ... well ... I don't really feel like I did anything of the sort in 2014 ........... BUT ...

... and this is when the Witch's Wisdom hit me  ....

Careful the things you say ...  

You can't Shine in the bright light.

Your glow is invisible in the light of day.

I mean, who sees the stars in the daylight? Other than the Sun, there isn't a visible star out there. And the moon needs the light from the sun reflecting off the earth to glow.

When everything is crystal clear and perfect, there's no place to Shine. You HAVE to Shine in Darkness. And only in the deepest depths of night, does your glow reach its maximum potential.

This I did not consider. This I did not take into account.

But, ya know ... even in the worst moments of 2014, I did what I'd set out to do. I sparkled. I spoke words I might not have spoken. I made discoveries I might not have made. I connected with people that I lost for a time. I found my authentic self -- bruised and battered at times -- but I know who I am today because of it and I'm good with that. See no matter the "stuff," I let my light Shine. I didn't turn off or give up. And I made some personal advancements and came to peace with my true self as I fought my way through the dark ... discoveries that I might never have made if things had gone the way I had planned them to go. 

If I'd tried to Shine in the Sunlight, no one would have noticed. I wouldn't have grown at all.

Oh, I didn't get all the parts and the issues I dealt with were still issues I had to deal with ... but, I didn't cave. I didn't back down. I didn't hide my light, I battened down the hatches and glowed in the night sky.

See, this little light of mine, can only Shine in the deepest darkness. So all the stuff that happened that I didn't like just taught me to Shine through it. I didn't give in or give up or hide my light. Perhaps that's what 2014 was meant to teach me all along ... to Shine no matter how dark things seemed. And only when I got that, did the Universe nod my way and offer a last minute gift.

So, 2015 is upon us. My One Choice or Word isn't the same. But that's a different blog for a different time.

The moral of This Story ... Careful the Things You Say. The Universe is listening. And the outcome of your Wish may not be as you envisioned it to be.

But, it will be what you Need it to be.

                                                                                                                               -- Jenni

No Day But Today

“There's only us

There's only this

Forget regret-- or life is yours to miss.

No other road

No other way

No day but today …” 

                                   - Rent

December has arrived, bringing the Christmas Holiday List along with it. I’m sure you can relate. My calendar is dominated by Have To events, including my son’s swim practices, social plans and meets, my daughter’s dance and choir commitments, my husband’s work party and Scout commitments and my own holiday rehearsal, performance and auditions. I think you could create an actual image if you connected the dots on my calendar!

Deep breath ….

Before my heart begins to race though, I want to talk about what I learned in Therapy this past Saturday.

Yes. Therapy. I’ve been attending sessions for over two years now and they have had a tremendous impact on my Anxiety Level, Perspective and Self-Judgment. In fact, through regular attendance – I go 2-3 times per week – I have found a path to acceptance and peace regarding my own personal idiosyncrasies and drama. I mean, what IS Normal nowadays?

My Therapy does Not involve a couch. It’s a group gig. It’s organic and unique session to session. Sometimes it’s even sweaty. I wear cute outfits and do some serious visualization and breathing exercises in preparation and even during my sessions. But my Therapy takes place on a Mat. In a very warm room. On a hardwood floor.

My Therapy is Yoga.

I’ve talked about Yoga before. But something pretty awesome this past Saturday came to my attention. It probably wasn’t something I didn’t know. No, it definitely wasn’t something I didn’t know. But I guess it was something I needed to hear.

There is no Later. There is only Now. And all we need to do is offer Now our very best.

That resonated with me and hit me hard. Especially at this time of the year when we are all rushing about trying to check off lists, get stuff done and buy gifts for “later.” See, I realized if I’m constantly worried about what is next, I’m not making the most of what is Now. And, I just might miss something.

There’s no guaranteed later. There’s no promise that Tomorrow will bring something better. Anyone who has suddenly lost a loved one or faced a surprise illness knows that Tomorrow isn’t necessarily another day where we can take care of things. Tomorrow is uncertain.

In Yoga – as in life – there is this tendency to think ahead. To anticipate the next move or pose. But, frankly, there’s no guarantee that the next pose will offer any less challenge or relief. What comes next may not be easier or more comfortable for us. During class, we make the most of Each Individual Moment in Time as they happen We do our best as we ease into or hold a pose. And when we shake, sweat or struggle, we grow stronger and truly exist in that precise moment. That's what we carry out of class with us at the end.

Our minds try to distract us. My mind is Crazy. I have this “room-mate” in my mind who constantly chatters at me and challenges me and works to distract me. If she were corporal, she would SO not be my friend. She gives me more drama and doubt than any friend should. I try to silence her. To block out her words. But she’s still there nonetheless.

But during Yoga, I’m able to focus instead on the challenge of the Present. I’m able to quiet that voice in my head. I’m able to see the Now and set aside all the bullshit that tries to distract me.

I take Slow Flow Therapy … er, Yoga. In Slow Flow, you don’t memorize poses or sequences – called “Flows.” You stay in your moment and wait for the guidance, wisdom and instruction from your Teacher. And that way, you go deeper within to find strength. In your Now, there is no Later to deal with. Sure you still have stress, fear, sadness, worries, desires, passions and doubts.

But they don’t beat you.

Oh, you may carry them in and out of class – heck, I know I carry them in and out of lots of classes. But as I shake in a pose or wobble in a balance move, I do my best to find calm and serenity – and a strong element of joy as I realize all that I can do right in that moment – even with the baggage. Balancing on one leg in what is known as Airplane (but I term “Angel Pose”), I find strength and acceptance for the unique individual I am. And I honor myself -- foibles and all -- as I stand in the light.

In Yoga this Saturday, Suzanne reminded me that There isn’t a Later. All we have is Now. And that means I need to focus on the Present. Honor myself for my Sparkles, Struggles and Scars. And if there is only now … today … this minute … I need to be myself and love my way.

I used to think that Therapy – Yoga – would “Fix” me. Sure, it’s exercise and that in itself is good for me. But my hours at the Yoga Shelter give me more than a good workout. They empower me to love myself as I am and accept my little craziness and unique view of the world. I find joy in the lessons learned. And I honor the people who come in and out of my life and enjoy our time together as it comes … when it comes … if it comes.

In Yoga, I’ve learned not to fight Gravity, but instead go deeper inside to find my strength. I resist trying to control everything and instead accept the uniqueness of others too. I’ve learned to smile as I shake. I’ve learned that if I lose my balance and fall, I can stand up and try again.

And in Yoga, I’ve learned that Time is fleeting. That This Moment is all we have. There is no Later. So, I intend to make the most of each Moment I have …

And when I start tackling that crazy List and rushing my kids and self around town, I’m going to smile and enjoy every Now I get. I’ll be the woman smiling as I stand in that really long line. I’ll be the woman who stops to buy her Peppermint Mocha even though it will mean a wait. I’ll be the woman singing as I dodge the crazy, desperate shoppers.

I might even be the woman who takes a moment to reach out to you. Because Now is all I get. You may not have time or choose to make time. That's okay. But, I hope you feel a little bit of sparkly energy coming your way to remind you … There’s only us. There’s only this. Forget regret or life is yours to miss. No other road. No other day.

No day but today...”

                                                                                                                     -- Jenni