I’ve had some interesting down time.

I’ll probably block most of it from my memory as time marches on. Did I really break my ankle? What black boot? Pain? Oh it wasn’t so bad… Oh man.

Going on my eighth week of recovery, something has shifted, and not just with my ankle.

Meanwhile, as this chapter wraps up, I’m finishing up some things.

Like this painting.

I also got obsessed with following different crochet patterns. My friend took a class to learn how. She’s left handed and needed a little extra help. With yarn found in the attic (from G’s grandmother), and patterns from Pinterest, I retaught myself, and her. I now have something to do while icing my foot and watching Boston sports on TV. These squares have multiplied pretty quickly.

It’s been an interesting summer here.

As fall takes over the landscape, I realize that I’ve adjusted. I love my yoga studio and the community there. I love my garden. I love the trees. I love the water. I love the routine we’ve settled into. I finally get it. Our little corner of New England is charming in ways that are both obvious and in ways I never knew to look for.

I’m going to miss many things about my life here. It seems that there IS room for me to be me on this coast as well.

My East Coast adventure felt very much like I was a fish out of water. No matter what I did, no matter how many questions I asked, I didn’t get it. So many little things perplexed me.

I was as out of place as I was in seventh grade when our family moved from California to Canada. I never figured out that town either. Instead, after floundering for few years, I left for college

I do get to return to California after trying my best to be an east coaster. This year, I think I’m a little closer though. I may not be blending exactly, but I’m finding appreciation and I’m finding things to love.

How did I do it?

Well, I stopped trying to understand. Maybe living here was like learning to swim, I needed to just get in the water and knock off trying to understand why water was the way it is.

Things are done the way they are because that’s the way they’ve been done and it doesn’t matter if in other places it’s different. No sense losing sleep. No sense wasting time or space in my head wanting to change any of it.

What I could do was make myself comfortable. I could work around most of the personally difficult things and let the rest go.

I may have been forced by a broken ankle and some strongly vetoed decisions to let go, but the truth is, I needed the pushes. I needed to, at long last, accept. To find my own version of radical acceptance. To find my own work-arounds.

The first time I snorkled was in Hawaii. I was standing in knee deep water arguing with my son that I saw the fish clearly and did not need the snorkel or mask. He said :

Mom, just put your face in the water.

I insisted it wasn’t necessary.

He insisted I just do it. I insisted I not.

Finally, I gave in

Wow. WOW

I create my own resistence.

Even big parts of my own holding back, often my own suffering.

I cant go back and un resist. I’m not sure I’ll be able to not resist something else in my future.

But

I can enjoy this little moment of peace. I can even appreciate my broken ankle and all the surrounding events that led me here. Life is long

and a bit weird.

Out of the boot

(Heres a one I never posted from when I first broke my ankle)

Time has slowed down for me.

Details are more obvious when I’m not rushing. Lately rushing is a distant dream.

Its been such a weird gift.

I like being busy.

I like moving fast.

Whenever I first arrive in CT, I have to really adjust to the slower pace. In the beginning, I had such impatience over slowing down. Every time I was jarred out of my fast flowing woosh of energy, into what felt like painful waiting, minutes ticking by slow, slow, so s l o w l y, I could hardly stand it.

How was I supposed to get through a whole day at this pace, much lesss a whole season!?

Now, here I am learning to walk again. Speaking of slow, I’ve taken slowing down to a new level.

This has me noticing all sorts of different things. Important things. I am right here in every space filled moment, giving myself my full attention.

Apparently I have some fear.

Fear.

hmmm.

I don’t like to dwell on it, but well, it turns out, fear is a thing.

Instead of rushing past, not dwelling, kind of ignoring it, there is another way I’m learning.

I can stand and face fear, which I hate to admit , is an on going part of my life. Fear can really follow me around, so instead of pretending it’s not there,

I’m learning that I, single handedly, can calm myself. I don’t need anyone to come along and make things safe. I don’t need to ignore it or block it out by being busy and moving quickly. I can actually confront fear and calm myself.

This is a detail I have been paying attention to. I don’t even need to figure out what I’m afraid of. Now that I’m slowed down, and noticing, at the very first sign of fear (often it’s a tiny sick feeling), I just start deep breathing, asking myself what I need, how can I help, giving myself words of reassurance. It sounds a little crazy, but

It feels like I’m laying a new foundation. Adopting a new stance.

I have officially given up trying to be fearless.

Instead, I’ll be looking for ways to feel safe whenever I feel the first inkling of fear. So, slowing down and navigating safety, that’s the detail that I’m giving attention lately.

A strange little gift. From a really bad fall. And a really weird life situation.

When I broke my ankle several things changed.

That was four weeks ago.

It was a fairly minimal break, also a sprain on the opposite side of the same ankle. Small problem, but I was suddenly unable to walk, drive, carry anything, do yoga, cook or even pour myself coffee. Standing balancing. Stairs.

I found myself lying on my back, leg on three pillows (above my heart), icing my foot and ankle several times per day. Swelling was an issue. Everything I did, had to be modified. Crutches were a nessasary, exhausting and painful new friend. I figured them out eventually, but ugh, every place I went was an ordeal, just getting to the bathroom.

Sitting, something I barely did, I now do, a lot.

What have I been doing? Not blogging.

I haven’t clicked ‘publish’ at all lately. I have had an additional crash course in radical acceptance. I’ve devoted hours to reading. And drawing…

Drawing because most of my paints are in the attic, an impossible ladder climb away.

I might be the most boring person ever.

Drawing…

And reading.

Here I still sit. Though I’ve mastered crutches and stairs and can even do some yoga. I’m practicing standing and balancing. Even walking

I have this weird appreciation for these last four weeks. It’s a thing no one would ever wish for, but

Being limited like this has given me some different perspectives.

Sometimes subtle shifts change a person. I can’t explain why or how, but here are some

I notice myself more. I care for myself better. I intensely feel when I over do it. My human body has been hurt and needs things to heal. So with no judgement whatsoever, I do my best to accommodate my healing. I do my rehab exercises, I eat the best foods for bone health, I ice and rest and take it slow. I have no choice but to accept help. I thank everyone for stepping in, offering when I don’t ask, I have a deep appreciation for being cared for.

G brings me coffee and ice every morning. On top of doing everything else.

My MIL has been wonderful.

My yoga friend has come to pick me up for every class I feel up for.

I have experienced the compassion of so many in sweet and unexpected ways. I have not, and this surprises me, felt sorry for myself. I do not feel sad or mad that I fell. I actually feel like this happened because I needed this experience somehow.

Life is not meant to be all smooth and easy. Aiming for that is not why I’m here. I think Im starting to understand that some things need to break down in order to be rebuilt better. Me, I needed to break. I needed to spend sometime doing this.

And so I am

I had to slowly learn over time, that art is not a good photographic copy of a picture. I know now, when everyone says ‘wow that is so good’, they usually mean ‘wow, that is a good copy of a picture!’ It’s a great exercise, but true art is more.

When I learned to let my mind go and let the art decide what it would be, I started doing artwork that I really loved. Not every time, especially not at first. Even today, I still need to take some long deep breaths, remember, and let my brain get out of the way, which can take a minute.

Art always comes through from somewhere beyond.

Practiced talent, can take anyone only so far, then it’s up to the real force of universal creation.

Which is why I can love my paintings, because I know if I’m plugged in, they aren’t really mine. When I don’t like a painting, I now know to wonder where I’m holding on, trying, putting in too much effort, relying on my human skill or knowledge. That is my own little recipe for disaster.

I’m not sure if I should have learned this in art school, because skipping the basics is skipping the foundation. Even Van Gogh had to practice drawing. So maybe it wasn’t too late a lesson after all.

We humans are the only species that uses actual words. Some domesticated animals understand a handful of words.

We’ve had a few smart dogs over the years, with big vocabularies. That is to say they knew words, but they never used them.

Koko the famous gorilla was unusual in her ability to use words. She was able to name objects or ask for a limited amount of things, even express emotions.

I think it’s fair to say that we humans are the only ones who think in words, the only ones to assess in words, to conclude and reason in words.

Language is very important to us. Communication. We humans love communication.

Yet, research has suggested that our words are only a percentage of how we communicate, both to ourselves and to others. We, like animals, consciously and unconsciously rely on non verbal, body ‘language’ (when not remote, this is another interesting topic) Its been proven that standing with our hands on our hips can actually communicate confidence to our own brain!

Yet words can pack a punch. Narrative is powerful. What we say to ourselves or each other can absolutely make or break a moment. Or a life.

Its hard to not think in cerebral wording, so I imagine its good to choose the ones we use, carefully. Are they kind? Are they nessesary? Research says not to speak to ourselves in absolutes. Can’t, won’t, never, always. Probably because these can never be true.

Meanwhile, I have this feeling that there is a bigger goal. Could it be less about eliminating certain words, and more about paying attention with our whole self. Sure, don’t eat poison, but, you know, fortify. Build. Love. With words, with intention, with the entirely of our beings. Maybe there is something to taking some time to FEEL how things feel.

Could it be that the quality of our life might depend on quantity treatment of ourselves. Could this affect everything and everyone else?

A frightened or angry or unhappy human uses different words and actions than a calm one.

This has been my thinking lately. After I read that book, after I broke my ankle. After a summer of big and little disappointments.

At the end of the day, it just makes good sense, to say kind things. To do kind things. To be kind.

Probably most importantly, to ourselves.

You know what they say about changing the world…

Starts with us.

The furthest I ever traveled from home was Kenya. The physical distance in so many miles and time zones, makes it an obvious answer for today’s prompt question. I know we all live in a very physical world here on planet earth.

I’ve been to Kenya twice. Each time I felt an overwhelming connection to a reality beyond what I have always accepted as real.

I felt like Africa had reached out to me at different times throughout my life. But then, when I finally found myself standing on the soil, truly experiencing the continent, or at least a tiny bit of it, I felt this strange familiar home feeling. Like a welcome back, a jaw dropping surprise or series of surprises that I will never forget. All for me? All for me.

Africa changed me. I loved her, I’d always known. I was surprised when Africa seemed to love me back.

I used to tell people, that trip changed me. Now I will say I was probably pushed closer to who I already was.

Life, civilization, upbringing, society, school those things sort of shaped me, maybe those things led me to conclude things that weren’t absolutely true. I don’t know, but I have often been mistaken about who I am. Or how I am precieved.

There always is the same me underneath all of that, we all are already ourselves. I’ve recently become curious about this concept.

I’m reading Martha Beck’s book, ‘Diana, Herself’ and it has caused this subject to come up a lot.

Also, I fractured my ankle five days ago, which has given me the luxury of a major perspective adjustment and a lot of literal down time.

When I said I was reading the book, I meant I’m reading through for the third time because underneath all the kitschi story telling, are some very interesting concepts. It’s an allegory, a silly far fetched fictional story, the kind I’m not usually a fan of because when its too obvious that the author is trying to illustrate a point, I don’t know, it’s usually not my thing, even if I agree with the concepts.

So here I am nearly finishing. Three times through, and I might be able recommend it. I’m not sure to who.

For me, it’s got me thinking about expirences like Africa.

Of moments when I felt the mystery that veils life for the most part to flutter open for a few seconds, which it does and has for me often. Those little occurrences that are impossible to explain, but reveal or awaken knowing.

Know thyself, Gnothi seauton

We all do, even if we forget, we do still know. And we are, all of us, much more than our tiny human brain thinks we are.

Thanks for asking

Funny prompt for today.

Things have been mildly interesting around here these past few days.

Monday I did paddle board yoga for the first time. First time ever on a paddle board. I loved it!

Tuesday I got talked into going to an event I don’t know how to describe. There was a woman they called a medium who ‘saw’ dead relatives of several audience members. After an AA/church like preamble, she spent an hour giving clues like : there’s a man here who worked with his hands, until someone in the audience claimed it to be a brother or cousin or father. It was believable a couple of times. Overall, probably not my thing, but interesting for sure. I’m still in CT.

Wednesday morning I was getting ready for yoga when I got a text from the guy who was going to dig the hole for the plumber. We had the plan that the plumber would be running water for an outdoor shower and fixing a hose spiget. We would discuss running the water from house to garage, Thursday.

So I was surprised, by the text from this guy. He came with two guys, shovels and an excavator.

The next thing we know he’s pulling back the garden fencing, and they are digging with care, but DIGGING.

G was at work. I didn’t get to yoga. By midday it was a mess.

By the time G came home everyone was a wreck. A pipe was broken, they were adding onto the price after we had already agreed to a higher price (right before they started). No one was ready or expecting any of this!

Yesterday, more digging. G thankfully stayed home. We worked out the price. The plumber showed up, he fixed the pipe, did the majority of the job…

Then, in a horrible moment, I rolled my ankle and fell. Likely sprained it.

It’s swollen. It hurts. I’ve had this ankle roll thing happen off and on, at least four times before in my life. It looks broken thanks to all the swelling, but it never is. I am refusing to go get an X-ray because I’d rather not spend hours waiting to find out what I’m pretty sure I already know.

Rest, ice, compress, elevate

It happened around 3:30 yesterday.

We have plans to go to Vermont tomorrow. I’m supposed to work this afternoon. I have a yoga thing tonight…

I am mostly annoyed at myself for not being more careful, mindful, and not paying proper attention. Which I pretty much learn every day in yoga, and mostly do.

But not in that three seconds.

Weirdly, I’m reading Martha Beck’s latest book, Diana, Herself

I’ve been reading a lot lately, so my high school speed reading course has kicked in. I flew through the book and since I’m now on my back with my foot up for hours, I’m a third of the way through for the second time.

It’s the next book club book. The recommendation came from a reliably good reader. She said it was a bit strange, but she thought it gave her a complete shift of life perspective.

The main character sprains an ankle. Then the story takes a bizarre turn.

I may be at threshold for bizarre today but with no choice except to go with it, here I am.

What might this be about, I can’t help wondering. Just as things were so good. My week started out hopeful and happy with plenty to look forward to.

G thinks we should cancel our trip to Vermont. The lawn is a mess. The hole can’t be filled in for days. The town can’t get out to inspect until Tuesday. Its, of course, raining.

Im going to work in a little while.

My ankle does feel a bit better, though it looks worse. A neighbor brought over crutches. I predict a full recovery, I’m a quick healer, I can tell it’s not legaments so much as just bruised bone. I will be fine. I am fine. But for right now, I’ll laid up, swollen, healing.

So G made me get an Xray

We had a great time in Vermont btw, even though I couldn’t walk

Fractured the inside of my ankle, the tip of my tibia, not the side that swelled out like a goose egg. After seeing the orthopedic doctor, and finding out I didn’t need a cast or surgery. I have been following orders scrupulously. I also sprained the other side. So lots of rest, ice, elevation

This is a good question for a rainy Wednesday afternoon.

I’ve been back from my trip west for a week. Initially, there was a readjusting few days. I went to yoga as often as I could. Three days in, I made a strong choice to not just endure, but to embrace this whole situation. I read somewhere that if you resist your circumstances, you cause yourself tension and anxiety and make everything harder.

I have a big feeling of motivation to find a way to grow and evolve positively IN my situation.

What is motivating me?

I guess I want things to be better.

I know I have the ability to make good things happen. I know everyone has power to swing energy. I’m motivated to find the good, to be thankful, to thrive. To be joyfully on my way to something wonderful. This is who I want to be, not the cranky, victimy, woeful complainer I was becoming, nope, that won’t do at all.

I wasn’t her at the beginning and I refuse to be her in the end. I will embrace, learn and grow, because that is who I’d rather be, every day, no matter what…