Muggy, foggy, feeling, studio fan blowing. Been painting. Still feeling rays of clear blue streams, magnificent waterfalls, Steep, climb. Hiking in the ferns, heart pounding, another world. Engaged core; I’ve recently connected with it in Yoga. It saves my knees on the descent. I grab a few flowers, I feel like I’m still sweating from the hike, even though it was hours ago. My studio time flows. My time off is almost over. Yes, my time alone is almost over. I need to wrap it up. This give me anxiety! I need more time. The past week has been draining. Glued to my TV, watching the news. Not believing there are people who don’t care about other people with the power to destroy lives and not care. I get physically ill. My stomach hurts, I just take baths and lay down as much as possible. Today I hiked. I worked in my studio. My work is strong today. I think about pain, and death while working today, even in the backdrop of the beauty of the Cataract trail. The life of the birds and the flowers. Peaceful lake. We will carry on then we will die. Trump will be gone in less than four years.
Category: yoga
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Daisy Flowers. I love when Jack says those words. We went to hunt for wildflowers yesterday. Up a hill off Lucas Valley. Yellows covered the hillside like I’ve never seen before. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Wind blowing. “I’m cold” says Fiona. I dressed her in pants in the morning before school; she wanted to wear a little pair of white shorts with a pink bow we pulled out of the summer drawer last night for pajamas. “We’re going hiking, I don’t think you should, keep your pants on. “I say. But it’s too late, she already has her pants half off, trying to get them over her thick Keen sandals. “Let me help you” I say. On the hill, I hand her Jacks green and yellow thick plaid shirt from out of my backpack. She has me button it to the top; it’s so hip pared with her flower skorts, navy blue keens, beaded necklace, (she made herself) and short haircut. Which I often have to explain to the little boys at the park that she is a girl and girls have short haircuts too, in fact all the best super hero girls have short hair! Then I explain “What’s in her ears?” when they ask that next. “Her hearing aids” I say. I should add a fantastic story about them being part of her super hero status. I sit on the hillside watching the children, Jack, Fiona, and Valentina have the best time of their life. There is a small, trickling stream that turned into the softest, throwable, mud as the kids play in it. Jack and Fiona both say they want to go home and take a shower more than once, but immediately run back in the mud and stomp and laugh. “I love mud” Jack says. I take it all in. A dream come true. Heaven. Today I am able to work in my studio and go to yoga, where I find my pelvic floor. It is the strangest thing: I studied all about the pelvic floor, hip, internal organs, spine connection last night, then today I go to Yoga and the whole class is about what I had studied the night before. This made my yoga workout today extremely intense focusing on breath and proper alignment and which muscles to engage (instead of being on auto pilot). It was pure serendipity! Spring is bringing me a bounty of inspiration and intuition. My alone time is coming to an end now though. I certainly haven’t gotten enough of it lately. But I appreciate all the time I do get to be alone creating! Namaste.
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Mother’s Day has been heartbreaking every year since my mom died. With the pressure to have children. With the disappointments and stress of infertility. I would walk around in a deep fog of sadness. I would avoid the stupid grocery stores with all their propaganda. Last year the babies were three months old, I was so sad because I just wished my mom could be here too. This year I felt different. In the morning I took Billy for a walk and then went to Yoga. Alan stayed home with the babies. I had time to do a meditation before yoga class. As we did our sun salutation’s I felt my heart open as I raised my arms up to the sky. I felt distance between my shoulders and ears and a deep emotional connection to myself. My eyes filled with tears. I thought of my mom. I thought of myself. I am simplifying.
4:48 A.M. Monday morning. Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t write yesterday, made a choice not to. Mother’s Day. My poor baby Jack is sick. He has the cold Fiona had, but got it much worse. We laid low yesterday. Should have stayed home the night before. Let Jack rest. We had to go to a function. A Church thing. It was on right at dinner time, 5:00. We stayed as long as we could but the babies started getting unruly. We walked out the door and I said, “Ah”, let out a big sigh. It was so stuffy in the Church.
As we walk into Our Lady of Loreto Church we say hello to family members already sitting in their row. We explain we may not be able to stay long. “Babies cry.” Says a brother in law. “You’ll be in good company, its O.K., babies cry.” He continues. Other people saying, “Yeah” agreeing with him. Does anything sound more miserable than sitting for a service in Church, wanting to respect the members and having two babies screeching and wanting to get up and get free? One baby sick, the other baby getting sick. Everybody’s hungry. It’s dinner time, bedtime, bath time, bottle time. Now Jacks way sicker than Fiona. A mother’s instinct. I knew I needed to keep the babies home. But to please my family I took them out. It’s one of the hardest things about being a parent. Staying true to what I believe. Even when doing so upsets people I love.
I’m in recovery mode, healing mode. I have to put me, Jack and Fiona first. I’ve been through a lot. I’m learning to love myself again. Maybe for the first time since I was a little girl. Before all the terrible things I went through. I’m learning not to be so hard on myself. To give myself a break. It’s a lot of hard work.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 