Bad guys and superheroes

I grew up in the Washington, DC area. Both my parents worked for the government - my dad for over 40 years. I even worked for the Department of Justice out of college. My field trips as a kid were to Gettysburg, nearby colonial towns, the Whitehouse, the Smithsonian, the National Archives.  I went to a college founded in 1840, located in the first capital of Maryland. Both my grandfathers served in the military, including one who immigrated here from Albania in the 1930s. I had a great grandfather who was Cherokee. The house we lived in for 26 years was on the flight path to Camp David. Elections were always important in my house (so much so I remember being "sad" that Reagan won the election in 1984...I was 7...). So much about me and who I am is steeped in the history of this country and what we stand for.

13 years ago, our world irrevocably changed. I happened to be in North Carolina at the time of the attacks on 9/11, attending grad school.  I was sitting in my Microeconomics class when someone came in and told us what happened, that NYC and DC had been attacked by terrorists. Everyone ran, frantically jumping on cell phones trying to get through to loved ones. 

I couldn't get through to my parents at first, given how jammed the lines were. Finally I got a hold of my mom -- she didn’t know where my dad was, and there were fighter jets in the airspace over our house. My dad, who frequently goes downtown for work, was fortunately  out of the office, safely getting his hair cut.

 The next hours and days were a blur, as they were for everyone.    I remember huddling with friends who I had really only known a month or two…watching the coverage numbly, together experiencing our world change forever. Friends, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands were lost that day. The countless children who lost a father or mother that day. Watching my friends receive news day after day after day of friends and former co-workers who died in the attacks.  Disbelief and horror turned to anger. I was pissed.  I've never been one  to rush to war -- but at that moment, I wanted us to bomb the hell out of the a-holes who did this.

 A few months later, I went home for Thanksgiving. Normally I would bypass DC to avoid traffic, but this time I took 395 right up through the city, and drove past the Pentagon. I needed to see my city. I lived a mile from the Pentagon for several years, and would got on the Metro there every morning. I was always amazed at how massive it was. A physical representation of the military might of the US.  And there on the western side of the building, a literal and symbolic wound in the side of this country.

Fortunately I did not lose anyone in the attacks, and it has been 13 years...but every year I still submerge myself in the coverage. O saw me tearing up today as I read an article about the attacks, and asked me what was wrong. I generally try to be pretty honest with her, in a 4 1/2 year old- appropriate way. But I had no idea what to say about this. You want to protect your children -- not just from the actual horror and mortal danger of something like 9/11, but even just the thought (and fear) that there could be such hatred, such evil in the world that people would want to do this to other people.

I went with what popped into my head -- that there were some bad people out there in the world, and they did a very bad thing a long time ago on this day, and some people got hurt, and it still makes Mama and other people pretty sad that those bad people would do such a thing. I wish I had just lied, protected her a bit longer.

O replied "You mean, bad guys like the superheroes fight?" She has been very much into superheroes lately…Captain America, Superman, a very pink Batgirl….

As always, she gets it. We had many superheroes that day, with the first responders, the firefighters who risked and sacrificed their lives for others, the passengers on United Flight 93.  And we have had thousands of superheroes since, military men and women fighting nearly impossible wars, trying to combat pure evil and keep our country (and others) safe.

After the attacks, the country came together in a pretty miraculous way. Hell, I even kind of liked George W. ...for a while. But I look at where we are now -- Americans are still being killed…no, executed by purely evil people.  The US is facing another nearly impossible military entanglement, now with ISIS.  We have a Congress who will not even come together to debate the issue, vote and do their job because of political agendas and selfish motivation.  It is increasingly hard to feel that sense of peaceful pride I felt as a kid growing up in DC. The world is irrevocably changed. And while our military members are being superheroes, the people responsible for putting them in harm's way (and taking care of them afterwards) are distinctly not  being superheroes.  

 As I said, every year I watch the coverage of what happened. I cry every time.  I think maybe more each year, not less.  I don’t watch because I'm worried I will forget… I watch because it changed our world forever.  And we -- our leaders especially -- need to be reminded of what is possible. Not just the possibility of terrorist attacks, but the possibility of pulling together as a country. The possibility of being superheroes. I hope that the people leading our country are watching as well. And that maybe reliving the pain will inspire…or shame…them into taking action. To lead, as we elected them to do.  To keep this country safe, and to make this country better.  I can keep my kids safe from a lot of things, and teach them how to be strong and smart...but  there are some things I need some help on.  

 

Yes I will vote to boot the idiots out if they don't do their job, as should you. The problem is -- none of them are doing their job. And we need them to.  We cannot allow another 9/11 anniversary to go by without truly honoring (and learning from) the superheroes who have gone before us. Americans -- do your job and vote. Congress & Mr. President -- do your job and lead the country. Quit f-cking up our country.

 

Because there are still a lot of bad guys out there and we need a few more superheroes.

 

 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and a broken heart

We all have had our heart broken…sometimes it can feel like more times than is even possible to endure. Yet somehow we heal and move on. And sometimes that healing takes a brief amount of time, and sometimes it drags on and on, with old wounds reopening when you least expect it.

I experienced a new kind of heartbreak the other morning when I dropped O off at daycare. She was being extra clingy and hesitant to leave my side. This happens about 75% of the time, so I didn’t think too much of it, until I witnessed her friends, two boys who had been her friends since infanthood, say they didn’t want to play with her because she was a girl and they had boy toys that they didn’t want to share (which were, by the way, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…can you believe those things are still around??).

The look on O's face crushed me.  Not only is this whole boy-girl gender battle seriously raging (see my blog post on Batgirl), but at the tender age of 4, she is already facing how people can be hurtful and exclusionary.  Maybe the scars of prio heartbreaks amplified my reaction, but I just thought of all the times she will get hurt in life and it made me so sad. I agonized over it all day - how can I teach her to still be her own person even when others reject her, how can I teach her to still do what's right even when others don't, how can I keep her from having her heart broken like I have.

Later in the day, I checked in with O and asked her how the day went and how her friends were doing. She promptly told me everything was great and that they always share (there was an implied "jeesh mom" in her tone). That they played dinosaurs and horses and J did a funny thing with the policeman hat and they had a great time.

Ah, the resiliency of a pre-schooler.

So yes, I am learning I can't protect my girls from getting their heart broken. It will happen. Likely a lot. But I can try to teach them that you have to feel strong in who you are and what you want, and you can't base your happiness on other people's validation. And hopefully that will lessen the heartbreak and speed the healing. Reduce the scarring.  I came across this quote recently that sums it up perfectly: "The more you know who you are and what you want, the less you let things upset you."

And I learned that man, you have to be able to let it go (yes, there is a lot of "Frozen" being played in the house). Be willing to forgive and forget, and also being willing to close the door when necessary, even if that means leaving something...or someone...on the other side. Don't dwell in the past. Don’t hold onto the pain and let it ruin your day (like it ruined mine and clearly not O's)…or worse, your life.

So forget the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I mean seriously, can we get rid of those things already?) and go play horses and dinosaurs. Or go play with someone else if you have to.  But own your own happiness. No one has the power to ruin your happiness but you. And let the heartbreak heal as fast as you can muster. Be like a 4 year old :-)

 

Things that happen when you smell your feet

The other day, I was driving home with the girls, which is usually when the blog inspiration magic happens.  This particular ride home was no exception. O out of the blue informed me, "I smelled my feet and it made me fart."

 

Yep, I'm a proud mama of a delicate, lady-like 4 year old. Now of course, this quote of O's is probably one of her better ones -- but unlike the others, I struggled to find the inspiration.  What lesson in life could this phenomenal quote could teach me? At the suggestion of one of my good friends, I did start to think about the surprising, and sometimes amazing things that happen when you least expect it.  Even when you are mired in the most dire circumstances. Or smelly ones.

 

Speaking of both dire and smelly circumstances, I've ventured out into the world of online dating, given how tough it can be to meet people these days.  Not that I'm equating these men with smelly feet, or farting for that matter, but some of these guys may want to pick up a book on social skills.

 

I'll start with Vinnie (all names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent -- but this guy totally seems like a Vinnie) - his intro email to me was "Hey babygirl, your beauty is flawless." For anyone who knows me, you'd accurately guess that this guy was dead-on-arrival. He must have taken my lack of response as playing hard to get, as he kept trying to catch me on IM until I final blocked him.

 

Then there was Mark, who wanted to cut through any normal introductions and ask me "Have you ever dated anyone outside your race?"  I'm all for figuring out potential deal-breakers sooner rather than later, but a hello would be super nice.

 

Another friend, Iam4u2316, also wanted to cut through the chase. At 58 years of age, he asked me on IM "Am I too old for you?"  I'm not sure, let me introduce you to my mom and dad and let them tell you.  At least Simon spent time writing an email, acknowledging "I know I am very young [24 years of age] but I am very mature for my age" and actually asked me out like a gentlemen. 

 

You also have a lot of yellers  -- I'd like to think they are just really excited to be contacting me, but I think they are just unfamiliar with their keyboards.  Pitts2317 went right to our potential chemistry with "WHO IS UR FAV FOOTBALL TEAM? MINE IS THE STEELERS IS THAT A DEAL BREAKER LOL" followed by "I LIKE GOOD FOOD WORKING OUT AND I AM A SPORTS NUT."  Not just a sports nut, Pitts old boy.

 

But you have to appreciate the effort to find common ground, I suppose.  BassFisher7084 jumped in with "Cute pics. Do ya like country music? Do ya like to boat in the summer?" 

 

There are a few guys who just take the simple approach, like they are walking up to me at a bar, which I guess I can understand.  Rick went with "Hello I am Rick."  Full stop.  And Sounderfan3109 simply said "Heyyyyyy."  I felt like I was right back at Tia Lou's, age 26. And it was not awesome.

 

Then there are the plethora of guys who I guess knew better than to try to contact me directly -- they just winked or liked a photo. Upon closer inspection, a good percentage of them had either pictures of their car in their profile as part of their profile name. Hey Porsche3477, I drive a Highlander with a large collection of Cheerios and mismatched socks - that's hot right?

 

So all of this does feel a bit like smelling my feet and farting, I must say.  And my guidance to you guys (and gals) out there also trying the online dating thing (or just the socializing with people thing) - don't mention the type of car you drive as a lead-in, use complete words and punctuation, common pleasantries like Hello are always appreciated, try to leave your baggage out of your profile or intro email, and in general do read the profile of the person you are approaching before reaching out. 

 

Now, it hasn't all been bad  -- I've received a lot of very nice, polite, funny emails and have made some good connections.  And despite lack of social skills, *most* people are just trying to find someone to connect with - which is hard and scary to do, absolutely -- so I give tons of credit for just getting out there. And so here comes the inspirational part -- If I have learned one thing over the last couple of years, the most surprising and wonderful things can happen, even when it all seems crappy, and especially if you would never, ever expect it. Painful experiences have turned into amazingly strengthening experiences, and people who I never imagined being close have become incredibly important to me.  So I'm chugging along with this online dating thing, as with everything in life, and trying to have an open mind and heart.  After all, you never know what might happen.  And I'm looking forward to meeting Sean and George next week. I may lay off the beans prior to meeting them…just in case.

Batgirl is pink and other true lies

I always knew I wanted to have girls.  I was one, to start with, so at least I would have some experience to work with.  And I liked being one, for the most part.  I just always had in my head a relationship with daughters -  and sure enough I have two wonderful girls who brighten each and every day.

 Now, however, I'm in the "Holy hell, girls are going to be hard" space. It all started when O moved up to the preschool class at age 3.   She started coming home with specific ideas of gender roles - boys needed to be with boys and girls with girls, pink is for girls, blue is for boys.  A girl's shirt is "pretty" and a boy's shirt is "cool."

 Then to make matters worse, she has become obsessed with princesses. Trains and dinosaurs have been largely put aside for the likes of Rapunzel and Ariel and Cinderella.   She demands to wear a dress nearly every day, and often smiles, flutters her eyelashes at me and asks me if she looks pretty. She still seems attached to her RGIII jersey, so that is keeping me sane for the time being.

 As background, I was never the princess type girl. I had stuffed animals and an embarrassingly large My Little Pony collection as a kid (seriously, 32 of them), but didn't really like pink or dolls or whatnot. In fact the one Barbie I did have, I cut her hair off and used her as  a sacrifice to my Miss Piggy puppet. Mostly I played outside, pretending to be a warrior or an animal (or a warrior animal), and had lots of boys as friends. My stint in ballet at age 6 lasted approximately 2 weeks, because it "made my tummy hurt" yet I played rugby, flag football and soccer for years when I got older.  Which made my whole body hurt (still…hurts..).

 So when O came home telling me that she wanted to be Batgirl (in fact she had to be Batgirl because J was going to be Batman and L was going to be Captain America) and was adamant that Batgirl was pink, I admittedly lost it. I went on a bit of a tirade that Batgirl in fact was NOT pink, and while we are at it, if O wanted to be Batman, not Batgirl, that was totally ok, nobody gets to tell her who she had to be.  And after repeated proclamations that Batgirl was in fact pink - "Mama, that's the TRUTH!!" -- I took my battle to the interwebs and pulled up some images of Batgirl.

Well, crap.

I did in fact prove that Batgirl is not pink…I also proved that Batgirl apparently has a 32DD sized chest and an impossibly thin waist.  Awesome.

All this had me in a bit of a panic. I want to raise strong girls who know they can solve problems themselves, that they don't need to be pretty or frilly or whatever to fit in. I want them to have a strong sense of self-worth that is not defined by their looks or if a boy likes them.   I want them to feel confident in exactly who they are, to know exactly what they deserve, and what they are capable of achieving.  A pretty mermaid making bad deals with a sea witch and relying on a man, a fish and a crab to save her doesn’t seem to be the best example. And the few superhero females out there are so over sexualized I can't even point to them as an example. I was prepared for the fact that kids get exposed to these images and messages in 10x the places we did as kids, but I was not prepared for how young it would start.

But taking a lesson from my friend's awesome blog on the same subject, I realized I need to just take a deep breath.  Forcing my own preferences on them will likely have the same effect of creating tension between what they think they *should* be and who they truly are.  After all, I wasn't the princess type and I had my fair share of confidence issues. And the whole "leaning in" movement can have equally difficult consequences of defining what "success" looks like for a woman.  I figure the best thing I can do is teach them that I will love them unconditionally, and that they are valued no matter how pretty, smart or thin they are.  That they deserve to be treated with kindness and respect, and they should treat others the same way. And that they have a world of choices out there - they can like princesses, football, boys, girls, math, art…they can choose demanding careers or staying home with family or something in between…whatever.  Ultimately it's about finding their true path of happiness, believing they can achieve that path no matter what and living authentically throughout.   Yes I of course filter the images and messages that are extreme or not age-appropriate  - but I can't shut everything out…and even if I could, I don’t think that would be helpful. The girls need to learn and assess on their own what is good and bad and what aligns with the values I hope to instil in them.

So I will wear my tiara proudly during dress-up and accept that Batgirl is pink.  And I will also have football on EVERY Sunday. If they don’t want to watch, that is totally ok. :-)

 

 

 

The forest through the bellybutton trees

It's human nature, I think, to focus more on the negative validation we receive in life, and ignore or discount the positive. Especially if you tend to be a perfectionist (guilty) - you dwell on the negative and assume it somehow is within your control, or worse…your FAULT, your shortcoming. Even in corporate culture there is a huge emphasis on fixing your weaknesses vs. leveraging your strengths. A healthy attention to improvement can be great, but sometimes it can catapult you into a pretty myopic, dysfunctional place where you get so zoomed in on the negative / less-than-perfect parts of your life, you don’t see all the good parts.  You miss the opportunities of joy, personal and professional growth, and creativity.  I'll admit that over my life time, but especially over the last couple of years, I've been guilty at times of zooming in way too much on the negative, on what needed fixing and not valuing the positive enough.

During our commute home each day O and I generally spend the time singing, laughing and goofing off (L participates too, generally by giggling and saying "more!").  One day a couple of weeks ago, somehow we got on the topic of bellybuttons. O determined she needed a new one, so I asked her where she would go to secure this new bellybutton. Without hesitation, she proclaimed she would go to the bellybutton trees where the bellybuttons grow. This launched a whole philosophical discussion around what things (body parts and otherwise) grow on trees (apparently noses and ears as well), are there farmers that tended massive orchards of bellybutton trees (yes), do they need a lot of water (some), and so on. L had no idea what we were talking about, but laughed hysterically every time her big sister laughed. This moment was just one of those many little moments I've been trying to focus on more - laughter, joy, freedom from rules or preconceived notions, peacefulness.  Staying zoomed out enough to appreciate all the great moments in my life.

The week following the bellybutton tree conversation, I ended up in the ER.  I woke up that Friday morning feeling ok, but by 11 am I knew I was pretty sick and something was wrong -- excruciating headache, throwing up, high fever.  Finally by around 7 I went to the hospital. After a spinal tap (attempted FOUR times by the newbie doc before the specialist was called in), a CAT scan of my head and a chest x-ray, I was diagnosed with viral meningitis.  I don’t know that my life was ever truly at risk (viral is a lot better than bacterial)-- but I was definitely the most deathly ill I've ever been, and I was actually scared it could all end badly, especially when my fever got to 103+ and I couldn't hold any food down.  I ended up being in the hospital for 5 days and will feel fatigue and headaches for the next several weeks.  The infectious disease doc figured it was probably just a virus one of my kids had (L had diarrhea earlier that week) and I won the lottery of having the right genetic makeup to let those little buggers into my brain and spinal fluids. Yay me!

As I was laying in the hospital, pressing my little pain medication button (a lot) and wondering if I was ever going to be able to see straight again, I found myself thinking about the bellybutton trees conversation…and I was again reminded of all the great things in my life and how fortunate I was to be loved, to be taken care of personally and professionally and to have my wonderful kids who were healthy and safe.  I didn't just have one special someone in my life -- I had a frigging ARMY of amazing friends and family - parents, ex inlaws, friends, co-workers, my ex-husband. Everyone rallied and did what was needed -- getting me to the hospital, taking care of the kids, allowing me to recover once I finally made it home, checking in on me, offering help, sending flowers.  I had a job that didn’t bat an eye at me taking a week off to recover, a job that provided really great health insurance so I could pay for this little escapade. And hey... at least it was viral meningitis! Ok maybe that last one is a stretch…but the point is, I could look at all this and dwell on the negative, or I could  choose to focus on the positive. Given the circumstances of this situation, I fared pretty darn well.  

It is true what they say - the crises in life, especially those that are life-threatening (even pseudo-life threatening) can really shift your perspective, help you stay zoomed out enough to embrace the positive and see the bigger picture in life.  If you choose.  I know it's corny to have the whole George Bailey moment as a result of this, but for me it really  has helped me see the forest through the trees…the bellybutton trees, that is.

I love you to the lotuses

The lotus is a popular symbol in Eastern religions, representing rebirth and awakening.  It starts as a small flower down at the bottom of a pond, deep in the mud and muck. It slowly grows up towards the water's surface, continually moving towards the light. Once it comes to the surface of the water, the lotus flower begins to blossom and turn into a beautiful flower.

 This has become a bit of a "totem" for me, representing what we all go through in life at times, but more importantly how I hope to live my life…pushing through the muck and the darkness towards the light, allowing myself to open and embrace the light. To bloom.  It didn't hurt that my yoga studio was selling cute little lotus necklaces, and of course I bought one. I wear it all the time as a reminder of the lotus's perseverance and beauty that I hope to embody. When O saw the necklace for the first time, she loved it. She got all close and cuddly with me, gently taking the necklace in her little hands, and asked me softly "Mama, what's this pretty necklace?"

I explained to her the meaning of the lotus and why Mama likes it so much.  O is pretty amazing at grasping advanced topics for someone her age, but she seemed rather non-plussed with my story and moved on to pretending she was my parents' three-legged Chihuahua named Jasmine (her favorite of the three, yes three, Chihuahuas my parents own).  My job then was to pretend I was Grammy (my mom) and give her fake marrow bones.

A few days later, we were reading L a story before bed called "Guess How Much I Love You?" If you have not read this book or given it to a kid you love, do it now. It is one of the sweetest, most tender books out there for kids. The bunny parent (Big Nutbrown Hare) and the bunny kid (Little Nutbrown Hare) take turns saying how much they love the other, each time with greater and greater magnitude. It ends with the bunny parent softly saying, as the bunny kid falls asleep, "I love you to the moon…and back."   The impossible magnitude of the love you have for your kids captured so beautifully.

Later the same evening, as I was putting O to bed, I told her I loved her, as I do every night (and all the time, really - I don’t think you can tell your kids enough how much you love them).  O smiled and said, "I love you to the lotuses."

I've already learned the lesson that your kids are listening even when you think they are not (the hard way) so be careful what you say. And I know that O has a pretty amazing imagination and is very creative.  But this struck me as just awesome.  O not only remembered the story of the lotus, but I think she really got it, maybe more than I had at the time.

 At the end of the day, the thing that powers my inner lotus, my perseverance, my desire for awakening and blooming is love. Love for my kids to push through the crap life gives you sometimes so that I can still be a good example, a good mom, a positive person. Love for my family and friends to appreciate the light and brilliance they bring to my life, even when my days seem dark and to hopefully reflect some of that light and brilliance back on their lives.  And love for myself to know I can blossom and embrace beauty and light, that I am worth pushing through, even if I get stuck in the muck sometimes.  People might have religion to help them through the tough times in life, or just a strong sense of spirituality…but I think at the end of the day, it really is about love, no matter what your belief system is.  Loving others, knowing others love you and loving yourself.

As I kissed O goodnight and tucked the blanket around her, I said to her softly "I love you to the lotuses…and back."

 

 

That owie is NO problem!

The other day, O had a scrape on her ankle.  This was one of those awesome scrapes that stayed kind of oozy, and of course I lapsed on keeping a bandaid on it, and so naturally it got stuck to her sock as part of the healing process. As I got O ready for her bath, I yanked the sock off, not knowing this would result in screaming and blood gushing everywhere.  As O was crying she kept saying over and over how she didn't want to go back to school. After exploring this a bit, it turned out that O was afraid to go back to where she got hurt (the school playground).  This event was so traumatic  she never wanted to be in the place where the trauma could happen again.

 Turns out, I knew exactly how O felt.  That feeling of being so hurt, so scared, so confused as to why something painful was happening --I mean, why the hell did taking my sock off hurt so bad?!  -- that the only thing you can think of is how to avoid it EVER happening again.  It's such a natural, human response, at any age to choose to avoid pain, or even the chance of pain.  A relationship ends painfully - why not avoid getting close to anyone again? It can be tough not being an expert in a new job - why not stay put in a job where at least you can be knowledgeable and can avoid failure? You hurt a friend - why not stay distant from people so as not to expose your shortcomings?

O and I talked about what she was feeling. And I told her a few stories of how Mama got owies - including a particularly embarrassing one where I passed out while running, hit my head on the asphalt and even had a car stop to see why I was laying on the side of the road.  I walked home feeling shaky, embarrassed and wondering what the hell just happened. 

 
But then I told her how I still run -- because it is good for me, and keeps my body and mind healthy. And that I just focus on how to make sure I didn’t get hurt again in that way (lesson learned: don’t run in 90 degree D.C. weather, up a hill and then stop, bend over and tie your shoe). And even though it was a scary, painful experience, I couldn't let it stop me from doing something I loved. 

At the conclusion of my story, O proclaimed "Mama, that owie is NO problem. I'm not going to let that owie stop me from doing ANYTHING!" I think in that moment I had never been so proud of her.  And yet again - lessons learned from a 4 year old. 

We can't let those owies be a problem -- whether they are from a failed relationship, trying and failing at something new, realizing we are not perfect by a long shot or falling down while running.  Do we learn from them and seek to do better, choose better? Absolutely. Should we try to avoid potentially life threatening situations? Um, yes :-)   But for me, I strive to learn so I can do what I love, so that I can still love and so that I can be loved.  Embrace my imperfections, my mistakes -- and still live life to the fullest.  We cannot be afraid of a relationship not working - otherwise the choice is to be alone. We cannot be afraid of doing something new - otherwise the choice to be bored and not grow. We cannot be afraid of showing others that we are not perfect - otherwise the choice to not learn, grow and be loved.

I have been doing a lot more yoga lately.  I find it is a great physical representation of the battle my heart and mind go through. I have to remember to breathe, I have to be forgiving and accepting of myself and my abilities, and I have to be willing to trust myself to go to new places.  This may mean doing a pose or NOT doing a pose. The other night, I had a "moment."  I was in the standing splits pose which is prep for doing a handstand. And for weeks I had just been hanging out there, not trying to do the handstand.  In that pose, it just doesn't FEEL like you can get to handstand. You don't have any momentum - you feel stuck. Plus I just have a general fear of flopping around loudly in an otherwise pristine yoga studio. Man, what a parallel to moments in my life over the last couple of years.

But then I made a well-educated decision to say screw it - my body felt good and if my 4 year old can get over her skin being ripped off, I can certainly try the handstand. And so I tried. And I kind of got up. Momentarily. With minimal flopping. And then I did it again and again.

So despite past pain, past failures -- it is nice to find the internal momentum to just move from where you are stuck. To forgive yourself and love yourself enough to take chances and seek out new experiences, even if there is a risk of getting hurt. So some may say "feel the fear and do it anyway"   -- I'm going with "That owie is no problem. "