End Freeway

Tonight is my last night in Minneapolis. The month went by predictably quickly, and we hardly scratched the surface of all of the things we wanted to do, though we did a lot of fun things while we were here for my daughter's skating. Tomorrow I drive to Detroit where I will spend the night, park the car, and head off to Bangkok and then Cambodia. I think it really only just started sinking in today (once my daughter left and I had some time to start focusing on the next leg of my journey) that I'm about to take a pretty big trip, and on my own. No tours. No traveling companions. It seems like the thing I need to do, take this trip alone and see what it's like not to be distracted by the many things (necessary and concocted) that I distract myself with to avoid things about myself (or my situation) I rather not face. Kids, work, cell phone.  One thing is for sure, it will be an adventure. Hopefully not too much of one!

In preparation for my trip I ran around doing the usual kinds of last minute errands--take- along shampoo container, post office, slow-leaking tire repaired, booster shot, library book return (2 libraries), food coop for snacks and tea tree oil. There were a couple of other trips in there as well. I almost got a last bike ride in, but not quite--got a little dark. Didn't get my last scoop of Izzie's ice cream, but did get a nice Ethiopian dinner to go from the Seward Co-op. I was a little wistful as I entered the store and got to breath in that lovely co-op smell. Instant, visceral happiness. I don't much like shopping, but I do love shopping for food, and this is one of my favorite places to do that.

I also had one last trip to a cafe while I waited for my tire to get repaired. Here's one of the bakery cases from Gigi's Cafe on 36th street. They even had a vegan offering (left hand side of the photo). I will really miss Minneapolis--the YWCA, the bike riding, the food, the lakes, did I mention the food? I won't miss the heat and the humidity, but you can't have everything.

In addition to the errands I am packing up the apartment today--not an uncomplicated process. I had to sort out the pile of things that will stay here at a skater's house for when my daughter gets back, the stuff of hers that goes home, the things I need for Cambodia, the things I don't need (in another suitcase), the left-over non-perishable food items, and the books--so many freaking books. I ended up with more than I came with.  many more. But it will all get done somehow, the packing, the cleaning, the arrangements. The drive. There has also been a few minutes here and there for feeling bereft and feeling the losses of the last several days, weeks, months, and years. Too many too name here, but each deserving its own time and attention. 

There will be time for the grief. And for the joy. For now, I'm finishing packing a carry-on size suitcase; I like to travel light.

A Rim and a Prayer

I guess the title of my blog today makes is sound like things are a bit dicey, but actually I think we are always coming into town on a rim and a prayer, so to speak. So why not just call it what it is. What we think is solid and certain really isn't ever solid and certain, we just trick ourselves into thinking that it is so that we can feel "safe." At least that's how I work (and I guess I can really only speak for myself). But if we were to wake up to the ungrounded nature of our life, would we feel afraid or would we feel liberated? Speaking for myself, I'd say (off hand) afraid. But I can see how it could be liberating--like going down the river without a raft--in that when we're (er, I'm) not clinging to what we think is solid ground, then so much more is possible. If we can let go of our limited sense of the world, and ourselves in it and in relation to it, we can really be present and not be bound by a narrow sense of identity, a small, limited self.


How does this work in daily life, you may ask? Good question. I'm not sure I can answer, except today I dropped my daughter off at the airport at 6 am, kissed her goodbye and realized, on top of this being the end of our month together in Minneapolis--this sweet and sometimes sour time--I'm really not sure when I'm going to see her again as she's talking about staying in MN (after her return from LA next weekend) until her school starts. My own school starts not long after I come back from Cambodia--how will I see her? No need to worry about it now. We will (as I often say) fall off that cliff when we come to it. I fretted for a moment when she left. And I have thought about her a lot today as I did some things that she would like (went for a bike ride around Lake of the Isles and checked out a new restaurant--see below) and some things she didn't (went to the First Universalist Church). I miss her. I wish I could be with both of my kids. But instead of dwelling on that, I let it be. That feeling of longing has come and gone numerous times today and I have felt that heartache (for lack of a better word) that one feels about one's children in their absence or in the parting. 


But it hasn't been the only thing I felt today. I also really felt grateful for my time in the Sanctuary at church. I loved my bike ride. I laughed at my impulsive decision to ride over to The Midtown Cafeteria for Sunday Brunch--which turned out to be a plate full of cholesterol and mainly animal-based food (which I haven't had in months). I almost ordered a drink (hey, it was 2:30 pm and it was 5:30 pm somewhere). I guess that's what happens when your health-conscious vegan daughter leaves town: you eat meat and (almost) drink alcohol. 

This is "The Uptown Cafeteira and Support Group"--no lies.

I bet your cholesterol just went up looking at this "Full Monty English Breakfast." Yes, that's bacon AND sausage.

Fun decor.

And condiments. Siracha and Mrs. Butterworth's.

You also wouldn't want to miss the Bloody Mary Bar. That's Bloody Mary Tyler Moore Bar to you.

After my indulgent artery-clogging meal I continued my bike ride around Lake of the Isles. I loved clunking along on my trail bike. I even took a call on my cell phone Amsterdam-style (they all talk on the phone while they ride), though I stopped and sat under a tree for most of the conversation.

Some other fun times on the Greenway Bike Trail.

A funny bumpersticker on the way to the FUCOM--I just love the way it cuts to the chase, so to speak.

"Lord, help me to be the person my dog thinks I am."

I guess that pretty much says it. It seems to me that dogs are in love with every moment, accepting of every circumstance we offer. When you come home, they are delighted to see you. When you feed them, there isn't a better thing that could happen. When it's time for a walk, there is joy and excitement. When they meet a new person, they couldn't be more gleeful. When you are a dog, it seems (unless you are one of those dogs who needs prozac?), every moment is an opportunity for happiness. They must imagine us as providing one glorious opportunity after another--bringing joy and happiness at every turn. 

Likewise, when one is awake to the essential groundlessness of our human condition, there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be other than right where we are. When it's time for a walk, we light up; when we see a new person, we are elated. Everything can be, if we choose, as glorious and exciting as the next (or last) moment.  If only we choose to let go of the raft, our narrow sense of ourself, our expectation of stability, we could let the river carry us to just where we need to go. And we would delight in that liberation rather than fear we might drown.

Last Chance Texaco

If this were a blog about flying (which it could be, I've been on enough planes or will be to justify some sort of flying-related title), I might title this blog "Turbulence." But I just did Rough Road the other day, so that wouldn't do. But "Last Chance Texaco" seems as a propos as "Turbulence" anyway.

We just got back from Detroit this morning and my daughter leaves for California tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn, and so these are our last hours together in Minneapolis--when she comes back in a week I'll be on the next leg of my journey: Cambodia. It's strange for both of us to be suddenly at the end of our time here together. She loves Minneapolis, has expressed many times how she wishes we lived here; tonight she wished we could just continue on doing what we're doing, living in a small one-bedroom apartment in mid-town, shopping at the Seward Co-op, riding our bikes over to St. Paul, going to yoga at the YWCA down the street. Our needs are actually pretty simple. Except that I have a job to return to and she's got a school to attend. But first, our respective journeys.

For our last few hours in Minneapolis together my daughter wanted to do a couple of favorite outings--the co-op for a banana/peanut butter/soy milk smoothie and some homeopathic medicine for her hip injury; dinner at the Mill Valley Kitchen; a stop at the bookstore. She's been amazingly pulled together today given the big transitions that are ahead of her in the next few weeks.

I have been holding it together as well, but I'm definitely feeling the wear and tear of the week. I have had the great experience of being present for my daughter in her skating (she had a pretty pivotal experience--difficult, but ultimately helpful for her I think). I also had (on the same day) a dear dear friend in the hospital undergoing brain surgery for a malignant tumor. Happily the surgery went as well as it could have gone. All the prayers did not hurt I'm sure. So many thanks to a network of friends for responding to the call.

And yesterday an old friend, kindred spirit and bandmate died after surviving over a year with ovarian cancer.  I won't do justice to her life here, but I can take a moment to say she lived life the way she played guitar--with heart and with guts. She was an open and alive spirit and one of those people with whom you could have a wonderful, wide-ranging, and crazy conversation.  And she was a generous spirit who did so much good in her life, it has been both humbling and inspiring. Happily, her legacy and her light will live on in so many ways, including in her work as a doctor, her work making the Pomona Community Clinic happen, and in her music. She approached all things in her life with passion and commitment--and she was artful with all she did. I carry you in a song in my heart. Go in peace.

I snagged this from Rin Lennon's web page--shows us all back in our band days. Jamie and I exchanged clothes for the video these photos came from. 

Uneven Road

Sometimes we come to a place in our lives when we have to make some decisions--we come to a crossroad. There are some that say that when we are at a crossroads it means we need to re-evaluate or revisit our Purpose. If we are clear about our purpose, our road may wind and curve. It may be bumpy. But it is a direct route. My daughter and I are both at a kind of crossroads in our life; I'm sure it feels equally momentous to us both, though our crossroads pale in seriousness relative to much of the world.

May all sentient beings be safe and protected and free from inner and outer harm.
May all sentient beings be happy and content.
May all sentient beings be whole and healthy to whatever degree possible.
May all sentient beings be free from fear.
May all sentient beings experience peace and ease of well being.

May all sentient beings know their true purpose.

Planes, Trains, Automobiles, and Ice Skates (in that order)

At 5 am this morning we walked down to the light rail train station to catch the 5:19 train to the airport (just made it!). We then took a plane from Minneapolis/St.Paul International airport to Detroit. Thanks Wisconsin for making the ride more exciting. Once in Detroit (I've been to DTW a multitude of times, this is the first time I've left the airport in 20 years) we rented a car (sigh). We have been navigating our way around some Detroit suburbs--Pontiac, Bloomfield. Three hours in town and we've been to two rinks already. But the Detroit Figure Skating Club is home of some champions: Tara Lapinski, Todd Eldredge, Belbin and Agosto. We saw two champions, in addition to Caryn Kadavy (my daughter's  coach), in the first 10 minutes at the rink, who are now coaching (though still skating, too)--Todd Eldridge and John Zimmerman.

I had a moment today, when my daughter was struggling with an injury in a way I haven't seen her before, that I felt like I had the courage to navigate yet another unknown city, be the scaffolding and support for my daughter, and stay true to my purpose. But I spent most of the rest of the day doubting my ability to tolerate the unknown (aren't I supposed to feel liberated by the unknown?), to stay centered in myself, to hold steady for my daughter, and to walk the day with an open heart. I also realized I wasn't feeling very happy. Lately I have had much more joy and happiness in any given moment, even while I've been tending to some internal and external challenges. But today I felt like I was so far from myself.

But now at the end of the day, having had a nice vegan dinner, and as we watch "So you think you can dance" while icing the hurting parts of ourselves, there seems to be some hope in us both. 

We will deal with what comes to us tomorrow, tomorrow.

Recalculating Route

Yesterday I went to the International Medicine Clinic in Minneapolis to get some immunizations in anticipation of my trip to Cambodia which I leave for a week from tomorrow. Only two injections mercifully (I still ended up looking, and feeling, like I was going to pass out!)--Tetanus and Hepatitis A/B. Ouch. Then downstairs for the Typhoid caplets. And a myriad of other pills--Malaria pills, a strong antibiotic, and a couple of others. I'm not one who is prone to worry about getting malaria, or dengue fever, or Japanese Encephalitis.  But the doctor seemed to think that I am a high risk traveler, mostly, I think, because I am traveling alone. And during monsoon season. I haven't had a whole lot of time to think about the risks, but I did bother to go out today and buy a truck load of insect repellent (better living through chemistry), to which my daughter commented, "why don't you go somewhere like Hawaii that isn't dangerous?" I tried to explain to her that it wasn't actually dangerous in Cambodia (although of course there are certain dangers).

It is true that when I reviewed the travel advisory compiled from the consular websites of the US, UK, Canada and Australia, I was a little surprised at some warnings (high firearm ownership, sexual assaults and banditry in urban and rural areas), but not at others (most heavily mined country in the world, especially Siem Reap--though not Angkor temples--and Banteay Meanchey. She still doesn't understand why I would want to go and see the Angkor temples. I tried to explain their cultural significance, their beauty, my personal draw to the sacred area, my need to take this particular journey on my own. It's more than the destination (though it is that, too); it is the timing, my internal compass--my purpose-- that I'm trying to find and then follow.

Today, after buying all of that DEET and anti-diarrhea medicine recommended by the literature,  I took a bike ride down to Lake Nakomis. We drive by there every day on the way to the rink in Edina, and I've been wanting to ride around it since we got here. But it's been so hot in the afternoon after my daughter is done skating it's hard to get motivated. But today it was only 85 or so degrees, so I headed out around 6:30 pm to see what I could see. It was a fun ride, and it turns out there are some swimming beaches with a fair number of folks swimming--across the lake. I hope to come back this weekend and give lake swimming a try. I'm notoriously bad at it!

                       

Sunset swimming at Lake Nokomis.

On my way home, I rode through streets and neighborhoods punctuated by distinct dinner smells. On one block there was the smell of barbecue hamburgers--almost made me want to eat meat! On another block I caught a whiff of what reminded me of the Thai food that a woman named Challie used to make (she was a UCLA student boarder in my dad and step-mother's house when I was in my early teens). A block later I could smell the unmistakable scent of tamales. It's funny how visceral the smell of food is for me, and the kinds of memories it evokes. It was quite sweet. 

I also finally made it to the neighborhood with the grass-growing mini van. I was momentarily disappointed when I discovered that the grass growing on the car was in fact astroturf. But what did I think? It's summer now in Minneapolis--how would the owner keep it growing year round? (I had seen a car in CA with real grass growing on it some years ago.)  It still looks totally cool. The top of the car has "LOVE" written on it (so much of that in this part of town with these various cars!).

 And of course the Peace sign in the front yard!

Tonight my daughter and I packed up for a trip to Detroit for a skating competition. We leave at 5 tomorrow morning. When we get back she will leave for California for a visit with family. I will have but a couple of days here before I pack up the car and head back to Detroit where I will get on the plane for yet another journey. This time by myself.

To live your purpose you have to
dare to be even more
of who you really are.
What does that mean to you today?
                                 --Robert Holden

"That Journeys are Good"

"That Journeys are Good" by Rumi was one of the readings today at the First UU Church of Minneapolis. It's a poem for every occasion, for we are always on a journey, external or internal, often both simultaneously, and learning, like Joseph in the Rumi poem, who left his country  "to understand dreams, and give away grain."  As I have journeyed through my days learning to meet others, meet joy, fear, and desperation, I find I often turn away from experience, from meeting someone else (in their pain, frustration, elation, accomplishment), for fear that my shortcomings will be revealed if I reveal myself (an impostor!). I have undertaken a daily ritual, morning after morning, day after day, week upon month upon years, with the intention to stay in the presence of the Fear (the Buddhists say they are "sitting with fear," not that they are afraid). This practice has perhaps become my most profound--and transformational-- journey of all. And it looks nothing at all like what I thought it would.  

Last night I dreamt I was standing in tree pose (I've been doing a lot of yoga--can you tell?), and my hair was blowing wildly, sand was blowing in my eyes, my clothes (because I wasn't dressed properly for yoga class!) were flapping in the wind and up and across my face. But I was insistent on staying in the pose--for reasons of ego or commitment I couldn't say. And I laughed a little bit--I can't recall if it was in the dream or in my half-conscious awareness of my dream--at the transparent metaphor, analogy, lesson of the Buddhist image of the mountain. Our true nature, our unconditioned self, is like the mountain--it is unmovable, even when the wind is blowing crazily, or the snow is falling, or children are digging at the surface. The external just blows through, momentarily changing the view, but ultimately not the mountain itself. My utter determination to stay in the pose as the conditions around me changed seemed to reflect a moment of awareness of my true power. In those moments of my dream, I was suddenly, experientially, transformed.

As I rode my bike home from the FUUCM (that's a crazy acronym if ever I've seen one), I thought about my upcoming trip to Detroit with my daughter for a big skating competition she has been struggling over; I thought about my trip to Bangkok, then Cambodia. Such possibilities await. And then, as I was riding along the street, I saw down the block a flock of (no, not seagulls you 80s rock fans) Canada geese stopping up the roadway. They can fly, I know, but they were really all just strolling down the street. I took this photo then rode away. A few minutes later they took to the sky wings beating not quite silently, calling to each other or me below. Or both. I had two thoughts as they flew over me in beautiful formation: I hoped not to be soiled by geese poop. And I guess now it's time to learn to give away grain.

Back Seat Driver

It was a given that, sooner or later, at least one post would have to have a title that referenced back seat drivers. Or in this case, driver. In fact, my daughter has been known to sit in the back seat voluntarily partly out of the habit of youth (she was really too small for most of her life to sit in the front), and partly out of avoidance I think (she sometimes would rather not have a conversation--particularly on her way to the skate rink after school--and the distance from front to back, she surmised, would discourage conversation) Plus, as the youngest in the family she was often delegated to the back seat.


But she does like to give directions. And commentary. And express her opinion. And it isn't limited to her seating location in the car. The other day I was just trying to make some conversation that might take my mind off of how grumpy I was about the hot and humid weather. So I started chatting with her about the idea of getting a tattoo (me, not her); I thought she might find this an amusing conversation. "Mom," she said with a clipped "you've-got-to-be-kidding-me" tone, "if you got a tattoo that would just  be further proof that you are going through a serious mid-life crisis."  (To be fair, she has a point.)  But do I really listen to my daughter about what kind of clothes I should wear ("please don't pick me up looking like a hobo"), or the way I spend my money, or when or where I can cry, or if I talk to strangers on the the parking lot of the Seaward coop? None of these expressions of love veiled as criticisms or embarrassments do I really mind when I think about it (sometimes in the moment I feel exasperated), for I know that my daughter is really sensitive and caring. But, like me, she sometimes likes to be in control and tell me where to go or what to do, even when I'm driving the car, so-to-speak, because, I would guess, it makes her feel in control. I empathize.


I have more and more appreciation (or understanding?) of the subtle ways I try to control things in my life. At the moment, so much of that effort seems crazy and wasted. But at the time I'm in it I don't even recognize how much damage it causes me--and those around me.  So let me redouble my efforts to be connected to my Purpose, and to what's really true and authentic in me, and let everything else be. Everyday I have more opportunities to stop being a back seat driver.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
~from Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese”

Drinking and (not) Driving

If I start to cry for no apparent reason,  my daughter gets instantly agitated. But she's grown up a lot this last school year, and even these last few weeks, noting things such as how she has just started to realize how hard it is for other people when she is feeling low and having a not great attitude about things (skating in this case.) It was a very impressive observation. Then she went on to talk about how horrible she felt about it and what a bad person she was for that. Like most of us, she has a little ways to go in the self-acceptance and self-forgiveness department. I can relate! So when, for no apparent reason (in her mind, and frankly a bit in mine as well) I began to cry on our ride home from the hair place where I got my hair cut (yes, I chose one at random--passed it by on my way to the Urban Bean yesterday--and let someone I didn't know at all cut my hair!), she was immediately annoyed with me.

                                   

                                                    A new haircut is always a good thing--my hair is still a renewable resource so far.

I think I mentioned in yesterday's blog that there is nowhere to hide for us, so there I was. Perhaps a sad song came on the radio, or I flashed on some memory that evoked my loneliness (more likely a combination of the two!). And she asked me what was wrong, and I actually told her because I don't like it when I ask her what is wrong and she won't tell me. And she harassed me about it (ouch) and I felt pretty lousy, though I have to recall that she's a 16-year-old girl who I bet would like to feel like her parents are always able to take care of her. This probably didn't feel very solid to her. So I got a bit grumpy and then left for Core and then Yoga and came home a little more centered (and a lot sweatier). And then we went to dinner, which cheered her up considerably. 

I had a local beer--or some of one (I'm such a cheap date).

Afterwards we saw the car below in the parking lot of the lovely French Meadow Cafe. It was a thrill for my daughter. She wishes we could stay in Minneapolis and live here. I mutter something to her about the winters, and then catch myself--this is the girl who is a figure skater and who loves the cold.  So Minneapolis, at least for the moment, is really her kind of city.

Bumper Stickers

The last few days my daughter has been feeling the challenge of having to make some difficult decisions about staying in Minneapolis to train (which she would like to do) and going to visit family in California (which she would also like to do) and also spending some time looking at colleges (which she feels she should do). This also comes at a time when she is feeling challenged in her skating. I have been so amazed at how she has been processing the potential complexities and difficulties of her decisions, and I have been grateful that she has been able to articulate her thoughts and emotions around them. In this way, our time together in Minneapolis has been really good for the both of us. In Maybe because it is just the two of us with no friends or much in the way of distraction, and that there's nowhere to hide, makes it so that we just have each other to be with--and to be ourselves with each other.  And it's been illuminating and fun. 

Today I managed to get my daughter to agree to go downtown with me on the train (it's just a few stops). She has resisted going downtown for any number of reasons, often because it really has been painfully hot almost every single day, with heat advisories, and also because she is often tired from her training and workouts. But today it was only in the mid-80s (hooray!) so we made the pilgrimage downtown with a special goal of visiting what looked like a very cool bakery: Angel Food Bakery.

                                                    

My daughter insisted (she's very persuasive!) that I try a cupcake (though she didn't because they had no vegan offerings today). It was quite yummy. I even got crazy and had a decaf latte to go with it (let me school you on the dangers of decaf, however).  Next we wandered the streets for awhile and perused the very large Farmer's Market. We found a beautiful bouquet of locally grown sunflowers for $5! The combination of flowers in the bouquet makes me quite happy.  Here we are together:

                                                

I don't know if it's my karma (or my carma--ha!) or the particular energy of this city that manifests some interesting vehicles, but I have been coming across a lot of cars that have caught my attention (see at least three previous blogs and one future one--I staked out the grass-growing car today, so photo to follow soon).  This evening as I was leaving the YWCA, I came across this car, with a combination of stickers and figurines.  Note the Barbie sunning herself on the bumper.

And here is a close up of a revised bumper sticker I thought was cool. I have often thought this myself!

And finally, though not an unusual car, this bumper sticker has got to make you laugh--particularly (or perhaps only?) if you are a "Gilmore Girls" fan.

                                    

I find myself thinking about the many gratitudes I have in just this day alone.  Perhaps having had my own version of making some (seemingly) difficult decisions has been less difficult by having so many other experiences and openings--with my daughter, friends, the woman on whose car I painted yesterday, with the woman wearing the coin belt next to me in Zumba class tonight. Perhaps I am having more experiences of living fully each moment (even the painful ones), trusting the process (and myself in it), traveling each day with an open heart, and surrendering the future to the universe.

I guess it really does come down to a bumper sticker motto or two: "Mean People Need Love" and "Oy with the poodles already."

Passengers

It's been one heck of a week. My daughter has been facing some challenges that have had her doing some 16-year-old type soul searching. I've had my own challenges--I keep wondering if when I next get knocked down I really will get up again, a la "Tubthumping" by the Chumbawumbas (hey, I have some musical knowledge post- the 1970s!). My daughter does get up again when she falls down--and she has some very impressive bruises on multiple appendages to show for it. Today she was wondering if in fact it makes sense for her to keep on skating. Good practice for life ahead.

And we keep doing our things. Me, to the library for some books. It poured rain most of the time (almost rode my bike but mercifully took the train in instead) on my journey, so I had a chance to try out my waterproof raincoat that I got for my upcoming trip to Cambodia which will be during monsoon season. It worked. My feet (which were in sandals) were soaked.  But it felt very summery to be walking through puddles in the warm rain, so it was all good!

Cedar-Riverside train stop where I get off to go to the UMTC library.

It turns out when the going gets tough the tough go grocery shopping, and so we checked out a food co- op pretty near where we are living (closer than the Whole Foods that's for sure!). When we were walking across the parking lot we saw some folks painting on a convertible. Rachel (who apparently owns the car) keeps a stash of paint in her back seat, and whenever she's at the Seward Coop (or other locations I expect) she pretty much invites whoever wants to paint to have at it on her car. She was a beautiful woman with a HUGE open-heartedness about her (you can see her kneeling and helping a young boy with his paint). She immediately hugged my daughter as we stood and observed, then offered me some paint. I chose the silver and (old.edu-style) painted a Peace sign (I am ridiculously unartistic and apparently uncreative under pressure!) and a caption that read "Be Love." My daughter was horrified. Rachel was delighted. She would have been delighted no matter what I had painted I imagine. Her joy and love was infectious. I welcomed the hug she bestowed and the love that beamed from her. What a blessing she is to the world. I would like to bring half her light.

Once inside we had much fun shopping for fruits and vegetables, granola, and other various and sundry vegan items. We also tried their freshly made juice (see below), the name of the drink I can't recall (middle aged brain I assume), but it was made with carrot, beet, banana, spinach, and maybe orange juice. Delicious.

                               

It's nice to have company on a long drive. A passenger to help pass the time. And to help navigate. And play "Hinky Pinky" or "Geography" with. I don't recommend picking up hitchhikers, but there are all kinds of lovely ways to have someone beside you on the journey.

I keep some of my friends with me on my wrist. I'm not a big jewelry wearer as a general rule, but I have been wearing these bracelets--friendship bracelets--given to me from various friends near and dear to my heart, and keep them close by on my travels.

And finally, this beautiful poem by Wendell Berry that was read at the First Universalist Church of Minneapolis this past Sunday that resonated with me. 

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Overheating

Today it cooled off a little bit--all the way down to 97. I don't know what the heat index was, I've kind of stopped counting. I know it was hot and humid; 86 and stifling at 8:30 am when I dropped my daughter off at the rink. The heat and the humidity is draining, and I'm not very good at coping with the heat, though I've been a lot less cranky than I otherwise might. It helps to have window air conditioners.

But in other ways I've been "overheating."

I rather lost my temper with my daughter yesterday after a few days of seeing her less than happy about going skating--I reasoned (unreasonably I realize) that we were here so that she could skate.  But she was going through some growing pains, making some tough decisions about staying in Minneapolis to train, and having to give up some other important things to her. So she was feeling the pressure of those things. It wasn't a pretty parent moment initially when I suggested she needed a shift in attitude. But we managed each to cool down after our altercation. I suggested to her that she needed to dig deep, find in herself the resources to put aside the difficulties that would be sorted out in time, and leave it behind when she stepped on the ice. She stayed shut down for a little while, but eventually made a shift. And today, while she still struggled some on the ice, her attitude was much better. She was still hard on herself, but she let go of the negativity pretty quickly. I felt really happy for her--that she could move through something that, even just a year ago, she had hung on to for days.

Now, if only I could take some of my own advice. Be a little less hard on myself, and dig deep and draw on my resources, and make a shift in attitude.

Checking Under the Hood

Every now and then one has to stop and Check Under the Hood.  How is the oil level? Windshield wiper fluid? Radiator fluid (unless you are driving an old VW in which case you are air cooled).  Occasionally, bigger fixes and greater attention are required: oil changes, tires rotated, new clutch (don't even get me started on new clutches!). I've driven a heck of a lot of miles this year--to California and back,  and while there two trips to the Bay Area, and visits to my dad and step-mother's. Once back in the east, I picked up my son from college in Long Island. Then to Minnesota to pick up my daughter. A couple of trips to Cleveland. Back to Minnesota, where we now reside temporarily. So I'm Checking Under the Hood.

I've been itinerant in a big way for many of the last several years. Not all of that time resulted in or required driving. So I'm (sorry for the gross analogy) Checking Under the Hood in the sense of the spirit.  First item: Gratitude. How are the levels? These, days, very high. I find myself feeling grateful for all kinds of things, large and small. Occasionally I feel like the character Ricky Fitts in "American Beauty": "Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it, like my heart's going to cave in." Too many gratitudes to mention for today, but one standout: just this morning I had a long conversation with my dad, a heart-to-heart about some of the challenges and situations of the week. He observed to me how others really count on me and how much I take on, and that he would be there as my rock when I needed him. I am so grateful that he's around for me to lean on. Not everyone my age has the privilege of a parent that is still around to offer support.

Next, how does the Purpose Level look? All of those gauges! Truth: moments of truth with occasional bouts of denial.  Trust: levels rising. Surrender: on the agenda for this week! Happiness: whenever possible. Peace: applying daily meditation and Yoga.

Finally, the Compass. One of my go-to Tricycle Daily Dharmas:
" Whatever your difficulties—a devastated heart, financial loss, feeling assaulted by the conflicts around you, or a seemingly hopeless illness—you can always remember that you are free in every moment to set the compass of your heart to your highest intentions. In fact, the two things that you are always free to do—despite your circumstances—are to be present and to be willing to love." - Jack Kornfield, "Set the Compass of Your Heart" 
Read the entire article in the Tricycle Wisdom Collection

Enough said.


I'm leaving out tire levels (a little saggy!) and paint job (a few dents and wrinkles).

Today I achieved a great victory. After a really difficult day on the ice and a wicked interaction with me, my daughter agreed to come out with me on a bike ride--even though she was exhausted and it was beastly hot (for the umpteenth day in a row). Basically, I bribed her (hey, I'm not too proud). I offered to buy her her favorite (vegan, no processed sugar) dessert at Whole Foods in St. Paul if she would ride her bike there with me. We headed out at about 7 pm (it was still easily in the mid-to-upper 90s and humid as can be) and rode the 5 miles to the Whole Foods. Here we are riding along Summit Ave, the San Vicente (only nicer) of St. Paul.

It was a totally fun ride along neighborhood streets--and so many people out riding their bikes, running (crazy people!), and walking their dogs. Really just makes me smile--all the people on bikes. And I love riding the cruiser bike--I can ride it in a skirt!

The parking lot at the Whole Foods is filled with bikes.

By the time we got to Whole Foods we were completely dripping in sweat. We took our time in the air conditioned store. Then we stopped at Izzy's Homemade Ice Cream on the way home (see at least two previous blogs) for the obvious.

Can't eat ice cream and be unhappy at the same time. True dat.

So, all told, the vehicle, though it has a lot of miles on it, is running pretty dang well.

Letting Go of the Steering Wheel

At Disneyland there is a ride that I rode as a child that still exists (though the cars a bit fancier) and is a kid favorite: Autopia. Auto+Utopia. Well, you get the idea. The deal about this ride, as you probably already know, is that you get to Drive a Car even though you aren't anywhere near old enough, tall enough, or skilled enough to do so in Real Life. This is, of course, because the cars are on a rail. Now in fact, even though there is a guide rail that keeps your car from landing in the Submarine ride (that's now the Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage), you actually have a functioning steering wheel and some ability to accelerate (though there are some good size bumpers to keep you out of too much trouble). So there is more than just an illusion that you are actually Driving a Car. But if you let go of the steering wheel--no worries! You just veer a little bit and then (assuming your older brother doesn't grab the steering wheel for you) you are back more-or-less on track.

So today is my own personal "Let Go of the Steering Wheel" day. (And I'm making an assumption that my son won't try to grab it for me and steer.) It's only an illusion anyway that I'm actually Driving the Car.  (Though to be true to the Autopia analogy I do have some agency--a co-creator if you will!) So why not give myself a little break (goodness knows I could use a break from "driving")?  In fact, I think I'm going to make this entire week one about Letting Go of the Steering Wheel. Just relinquishing struggle, attachment, expectation, control. I recognize that it's a tall order. But my intention this week is really just to keep letting go, over and over. It can be so liberating not to hold on to story lines about all of the ways I have screwed up this past year, or month, or week, or hour!  Can't hope for a better past! It can be liberating to just give myself permission to be on the giddy brink of something new. I can most assuredly come back to Holding the Steering Wheel Really Tightly if I want. But for now, I think I'll just see what happens when I trust my car to the Imagineers of Disneyland.

Today I did some biking around the neighborhood and spotted this perfect summer house with the sunflowers in full force and a cat (can you spot him?) lounging on the front walk. So inviting.

Just down the street was this throw-back flower power car. You can't see it because of the reflection, but there is a team of sunflowers in the front window.

There's a mini van in our neighborhood that has a lawn growing on it. I'll try to get that captured at some point. Never quite in the right place for it.

Apologies for the "My Space" photo

It was another hot an humid day, in the 90s. Heat advisories, etc.  I'm keeping my chin up, though, and taking Powderhorn Lake by storm. Okay, so that isn't really too difficult because it's actually pretty small.

Rest Stop

A list of things. Order not significant.

Today...

1. It is Bastille Day. Happy B-Day France;

2. One of my dearest friends has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Though no one really reads my blog, it is still a way for me to process my trip and to put things out to the universe. In this case, I ask for and offer prayers to her,  prayers of love and healing, gratitude and more love, to my dear dear friend.  I am holding her with the most love and hope I can muster;

3. I pulled the car over at a rest stop. Sometimes it is just safer to rest and arrive late and alive;

4. I took an intense yoga class at PureYoga, Stillwater, MN. It's a bit of a drive, but I have to say, there is something in the energy there that I have found healing. Including Suzy, who does some amazing energy and body work. I thank her for answering my call;

5. For a few moments, I felt safe, deeply safe, possibly for the first time ever;

6. I felt on and off as if I were walking a surreal and unfamiliar planet;

7. I felt like I was sticking my fingers in the holes of my leaky heart;

8. I cried more than once at the joy, bliss, heartbreak, and hardship of four different friends who are too far away for me to hold or bring sustenance;

9. I thought about all the terrible mistakes I have made, some even today;

10. I forgave myself.

"Sometimes to be happy in the present moment, you have to be willing to give up all hopes for a better past."  Robert Holden.

Cruise Control

We've been here in Minneapolis for nearly two weeks, and it has (predictably) gone by quickly. We are still learning how to navigate around the city and the surrounding areas (where ice rinks and Joanne Fabric stores often, though not always, are). But the layout of things is generally starting to make a bit more sense (famous last words!). 

Today for me was a day about plowing through the painful process of creating an almost-new course. It means reading things (which I love) and assessing their value for a class of undergraduates (which I love not quite as much), in this case for a Junior Seminar. I'm excited about teaching the class, and it has been fun trying to get creative about the approach, but I am also teaching a subject that is in part very new to me, so some of what I'm doing is a bit of a crap shoot (a little bit like my life, and my driving, now that I think about it!). These last few days have been an exercise in settling into a rhythm of academic work and skate mom work, of inner work and of house work.

Today Camryn and I went food shopping at a coop not too far from one of the rinks where she skates. It's called "The Wedge" (though I don't know why) and we have fallen in love with shopping there, though it can be even more expensive in some cases than Whole Foods. But it has a lot of local produce, etc. And it also has some really good vegan scones and cookies (that have no refined sugars in them) that my daughter will eat. Also some great granola. And every time we walk in there I have a visceral response--in the best way--to the the smell of the place; it smells sweet, spicy, like fresh vegetables, and baked goods--just like the food coop I worked in back in the (gulp) '70s. Yes I'm old enough not only to be your mother, but also your grandmother (but if that were the case your mother would have to read this to you).

The shopping was a success. When we got home we rested from our outing (and my daughter's three hours of skating) a bit, and then rode our bikes over to the YWCA for the "Core Ignition" class followed by a Vinyassa yoga class--just in front of a big storm (that had passed largely by the time we finished our classes). Both of these classes were taught by Ben, a very fit and handsome young man. The classes were a study in contrasts, or rather the teacher of the classes was a study in contrasts. The "Core Ignition" class just about killed us in its intense focus on our, yes, core! And Ben had us really moving and singing with the loud music and shouting encouraging words while singing along (really--while doing those crazy leg lift thingys that just about took me down?). When we had just about had it, it was time for the yoga class. His voice became sweet and low, and smooth and slow--like honey. With every direction, "exhale, downward facing dog" it felt as if he was caressing us into some fantastic position. And he had a way of making the positions we moved through feel nearly transcendent. And yet, as he was moving us through the various poses--"hold that plank, now s-l-o-w-l-y down to chataranga"--we realized we were in another set of intense moves. What an experience, though, to feel simultaneously at peace and energized, calmed and transformed by the practice. It felt like, for a moment at least, we had found some peace in our routine. 

As we hopped on our bikes there were just a few raindrops beginning to fall again. The air had cooled perceptibly. We cruised leisurely down the street towards our apartment, a new sense of ease between, and in, us.

Reduce Speed Ahead

I was meditating this morning and it came to me...Slow Down.  And Don't Make Any Sudden Moves. At the risk of overdoing the driving as metaphor for life posts: as in life, as in driving, I guess. Especially at high speeds, you don't want to make any sudden moves.  And if you are going too fast, you might miss something important. These are actually true in driving, and I think are also metaphors for life. But there is a limit to the analogy.

For example, I do think that it's important to live life with a purpose. With intention. I renew my intentions daily: may I walk this day with an open heart; may I walk this path with awareness and trust.  may I accept gracefully all that comes my way; may I know the blessings of the day; may I know compassion for myself and others. I guess I have a lot of intentions. But I really don't think you can have too many, really. When driving it is largely a good idea to Drive With Purpose, with intention. It's more economical--fuel and time-wise!--to know where you are going, and to take the shortest route. That often takes a little planning. But driving is also about the destination--getting there quickly (see previous blog!) on time, safely, etc.--in a way that life really isn't. 


Today, armed with my guidance from my morning's meditation, I tried to drive slowly, carefully. At least in part as an extension of the larger intention to Slow Down. I tried to pay attention to my surroundings, what were on the streets I traveled, who was in the crosswalk, the car next to me. I tried to drive with care and with purpose. Arrive safely. Don't cut anybody off. Don't make and sudden moves. I still made at least one wrong turn (well, maybe two or three!)--who knew that there was W County Road B and W County Road B2?  But eventually I got to where I needed to be.

So, for today, at least, I was slightly less dangerous on the road.

Road Signs

Following road signs. Some are easy to spot. Like the "road closed" sign I came upon when I was making my way today to the University of Minnesota Wilson Library. I was on foot (I had taken the light rail the two whole stops to Cedar/Riverside station) and found it easy enough to navigate around the fairly complicated road construction that was happening in that area. And thank god I didn't drive--I would most assuredly have gotten lost! It was such a relief not to drive: I could walk and look at a map--a real map!--not the small font, one-step-at-a time smart phone maps that drive me (and anyone who happens to be in the nearby vicinity) crazy.  Even with a map, though, I wasn't so terribly efficient in my path to the library (thank you U of M for allowing me a "special privileges" library card so that I could check out books and finish that final syllabus for class!), but I got to feel a little like a tourist and see more interesting parts of the city (I may actually get downtown this week--slowly but surely!).

Other road signs are more subtle. I've been thinking about road signs and sign posts because I'm trying to walk in awareness (and other new-agey activities), being mindful of what is available to me--practice receiving (see previous blog on accepting help) all that is available to me, from friends, family, strangers, the seen and unseen universe. I think if I did this more while I was driving I would be a safer driver. And maybe remembered where I was going or how I got there, or where I parked the dang car (yes, I forget sometimes).  Okay, call me crazy, but I really believe that if you open yourself up to possibilities, if you practice awareness, any and all things can happen--the beauty (and pain and tragedy and sweetness and joy) of the world is so much more available to us when we just pay attention. I guess the trouble is, that sometimes the truth of the world seems too painful to bear. But we only think it is.

When I first got off the train, I saw these housing structures.

And this local theater.

The neighborhood around this part of the University is really fascinating. The train station itself was understated (unlike the E. Lake station where I got on the train). And almost everyone waiting at the Cedar/Riverside station was Somalian. On my walk to the UM Library I came across numerous African, West African, Mediterranean, and Asian restaurants and coffee shops. I started to feel like Garrison Keillor, who kind of represents Minneapolis or at least most of Minnesota as not particularly urbane, had misled me a bit. Or perhaps I haven't paid close enough attention. I have found that, so far, almost all of the parts of Minneapolis and St. Paul (lest it be forgotten!) have interesting and urbane elements.

At the end of the day, my daughter and I road our bikes to the YWCA. We spotted this car in the parking lot--it's covered with stuff. Plates and figurines and cups and all kinds of doodads. It has painted on its rear window: "Buy some stuff and glue it to your car."

The interesting thing about this car and how it was situated in the parking lot: I couldn't take a picture of it without the sun overexposing my shot. Or, in another reading, no matter how I look at this vehicle, it is bathed in light. Talk about a road sign!

Traffic Jams

I grew up largely in Los Angeles. I got my driver's license the day I turned 16 (like any respectable Los Angelean). Up until about twelve years ago I had lived my entire life in one part of California or another. So I know about traffic.  I've driven in NYC traffic (you just have to assert yourself sufficiently and ignore taxi drivers at all costs), in Boston traffic (they know the rules of the road, you don't, and they aren't the same rules for everybody anyway), in Chicago traffic (see previous blog entry), in San Francisco traffic (in a manual '86 VW Vanagon no less), among other major cities. I've also negotiated the roads in Italy. So I've experience traffic. Each of these locations require their own set of navigating skills, mostly having to do with attitude. And over the years I have developed a philosophy about traffic and traffic jams; easy to do when one has driven in LA enough--especially in the last several years during the time of "Carmageddon" and "Rampture."

First of all, if you are negotiating a city during a certain time of day (or any time of day in LA) you are likely to be sitting in traffic. So, as Alfred E. Newman said, why worry? It's inevitable, you can't change it, your car isn't going to grow a jet engine a la Batman, hundreds of people will not suddenly decide to exit the road because you are frustrated and in a hurry. To be frustrated and angry and impatient in a traffic jam is a real waste of energy, a real exercise in being resistent, not accepting, even hostile, to what is. And, if you are up on your Buddhism, wanting things to be different from what they are is a cause of great suffering. And yet it is also very human to be frustrated, angry, and impatient in a traffic jam.  What to do? I use it as a practice for life (if you live in LA, traffic is in fact a very big part of your life so you will have plenty of opportunity to practice).

I had an opportunity to practice traffic jam life training just this morning as I took my daughter to the rink. We left in what I thought was plenty of time--35 minutes for a 15 minute drive (my first fatal error). It wasn't long after getting on the freeway that things felt not-so-free. First I practice yelling (anger) at the car in front of me, because it is certainly responsible for me going so slowly. Then, after seeing the helpful travel time sign "169--over 25 minutes" I practice denial: "oh, there's no way it will be that long, it's only 5 miles from here! (I know, I know, denial should come first--but not in traffic!) Then I move swiftly to bargaining: maybe there's an alternative route? And then on to depression (which is sometimes just a repeat of the anger stage, to be honest), "oh my god we are going to be late this is going to just ruin everything" (see previous blog on how I hate being late). Finally, I get to acceptance (sometimes sooner, sometimes later). You know what, it's not a big deal. Let's put on NPR (or 20 on 20 or BBC news or your favorite radio station) and relax and enjoy the excellent time spent alone or in each other's company. 


Nowhere to go, nothing to do, nothing to be. Traffic, it turns out, can be quite liberating if you let it.

The Taco Taxi can come in handy when stuck in a traffic jam on E. Lake Ave.