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.