Along with A New Earth which I'm deliberately reading slowly so I can stay at the pace of the class, I'm reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love and several other books but for most of the weekend I've been in and out of the "Eat, Pray ..." stuff.

The book has been on the NYT Bestseller list for a while, and I'll be honest, that's usually a turn-off for me.  There's something in me that says, "How much depth can this book have if it's that popular?"  But I've seen it every time I hit Borders for about three months, so I finally broke down and picked up a copy.  (The other book I keep seeing is Skinny Bitch but I am far more attracted to a book that says "EAT" than one that says, "macrobiotic".)

I could say all kinds of things about Liz Gilbert's voice and the refreshing honesty of her story.  But really, I want to talk about the eating part.  See, she went through a divorce that she initiated.  Then she had a love affair that ended in heartbreak.  Then, she ran away to Italy for four months to eat.

Cheese, bread, figs, pasta, pizza, gelato, more pasta, tiramisu, olives, espresso, pastries ... All are described in loving detail.  Then she goes to India and lives in an ashram for five months where she earns the nickname "Groceries."

This is a woman I can relate to. 

I was so enthralled by her time in Italy pursuing pleasure that I was sad when she was packing up to move on to India.  I didn't want to read the next section.  I didn't want to consider devotional life.  I wanted her to go back for one more serving of tortellini in heavy asiago cream sauce.

One of the beautiful lessons of spiritual life is that there is a time and place for everything.  She came through a time of mourning, and before she could move on to a time of intense devotion, she needed a time of joy, of living moment to moment, guided by her instinct to feed herself. 

We all need to be fed on a multitude of levels.  I need sleep, mental stimulation, companionship, social interaction, creative challenges, new shoes, and food.  Ms Gilbert suggests that we get in the habit of considering our needs by asking every morning, "What do I want to do today?" 

What good is it to be alive if there's no pleasure, no play?  If as the Dalai Lama says, we were created to be happy, there are a great many of us not fulfilling our greatest purpose.   Maybe your great purpose for the day is to save a life, maybe you have a problem that only you can solve, maybe you have a calling that must be fulfilled, a prayer that must be prayed.  But maybe for today, your highest purpose is to really enjoy your lunch. 

Okay - in actuality, I never left.  I woke up early, blogged a little blog, and then went right back to the couch and right back to sleep.  Where I slept and slept until the neighbors sent their toddler outside to "play".  She sat on the sidewalk and screamed in terror waking me and rousing Tucker to an act of supreme kindness.  He went outside and sat at the picnic table blowing bubbles to entertain her. 

These photos were taken after the little girl's parents finally got ready to do whatever they were doing today and came to collect her.  In the one below you can see the window of our dining area with Joe the Cat carefully keeping watch over his boy.  I'm noticing that boy needs a haircut ...

I enjoy going to church.  I don't know why other people enjoy going, I go for the people.  I enjoy my Bible study too, but I enjoy Bible study the most when it's me by myself with a pile of reference books, Hebrew and Greek dictionaries, history, maps, and texts about the ancient texts. 

In church, I'm not so much about the doctrine as I am about the theology.  Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddist monk, coined a phrase during the Vietnam War, "Engaged Buddhism".  At church, sitting elbow to elbow with other imperfect practioners of faith, I do applied theology.  This is where I get a chance to practice more than preach, listen more than teach, and make choices about how I will spend my service time. 

This morning, I slept right through and way past time for church.  The boys were quiet, and when I did finally wake Michael said that he thought it likely that I might have slept all day.  They made the conscious choice to allow me to sleep.  Then Tucker made the conscious choice to go outside and perform an act of applied theology with bubbles. 

That's worth at least a sermon or two. 

Did you turn your lights out?

We did.  I'd talked with the kids about it, although they remained a little confused and finally just decided it was one of those weird things that Mom does every now and then.  We turned out the lights, curled up on the couch, and settled in.  Tucker and I had been planning to play a boardgame by candlelight, but their dad called.  (So they talked to him, and that was when I learned that they had no idea what this business of sitting in the dark was about.)

I fell asleep on the couch as they were chatting and woke for a moment about 8:35 when Michael turned on the lights in the kitchen to rummage for a snack.  I was back asleep before the crumbs hit the floor and didn't stir from my spot on the warm soft leather until 5:00 this morning.  Earth (1/2) hour was good for me. 

We'll be going to church this morning and having lunch with the Bible study group afterward.  (Everyone's bringing Mexican today - surprise!)  I'll blog a real blog this afternoon when we drag ourselves home. 

The boys and I headed out to explore this afternoon.  We went first to Active Imagination where the kids learned that gamers meet every Saturday afternoon to play the game they like.  They are now signed up and will try it out next Saturday afternoon while I attend a writer's workshop on constructing fantasy worlds.

Then we meandered down to Central and Louisiana to visit the Talin International Food Market.  There were some amazing things in there.  We strolled up and down aisles lableled: Cairo, Munich, Seoul, Kyoto, Bangkok ... and found a lot of things that we couldn't pronouce.  I wanted to pick up some things that I could use in making curry, hot and sour soup, oyster beef, and pad thai.  I found all I needed.  I had determined that we'd also pick up at least one thing that we hadn't eaten before.  I settled on a Chinese mock meat product that ought to be sufficiently scary to make the boys feel as though they've really done something brave. 

For a late lunch/early dinner I took them to the Elephant Bar for our extravagant Spring Break treat.  They wanted the appetizer sampler so I ordered a simple side salad of mixed green with walnuts. 

yeah, it was just exactly as big as it looks, I couldn't finish it. 

Tucker wanted mac-n-cheese and inhaled it so quickly it was all a blur.

And back at home, my newest indulgence arrived in the mail. 

It was a little hard to get the photo right with that light, but if you can't read it it says "3rd Degree Chile". 

Life is good.  Sometimes very good. 

I'm thrilled and flattered that so many of you thought the poem below might be one of my own.  Thank you.   

You are tired
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me then
And we'll leave it far and far away-
(Only you and I understand!)

You have played
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break and-
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart-
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows
And if you like
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble the moon
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream
Until I find the Only Flower
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

e e cummings

One of my Xanga friends has recently discovered the poetry of e e cummings and mentioned it on her blog.  The poem above is the first e e cummings poem I ever ran across and I fell in love with it.  So much that I memorized it without anyone ever suggesting I should, or intending to.  I memorized it because I read it so often that I couldn't forget it.  I quoted it to myself and used it as my template for the practice of calligraphy when I took that class in college. 

I hope you enjoy it. 

   There's a group of people on Xanga known as the Den of Fools.  I've been reading some of their sites for a while now and enjoying the fun they share. 

This morning, I took the plunge, I applied for and was accepted into the membership as a Fool in High Heels. 

For my First Foolish Act, I'm sending an appropriate gift of chocolate to the Head Fool. 

Dearest Queen Fool - from your newest Fool please accept this gift of Spicy Hot Chocolate.  (I wanted to send you the Chimayo Red Chili bar but I couldn't steal a photo.) 

*Updated*

Kokopelli appears in Native American art, petroglyphs over 1000 years old, and on tee shirts all over the Southwest.  What he represents depends in large part upon which source you read.  He's a hunchbacked flute player who may also be a traveling peddler with a bag of seeds on his back. 

Kokopelli is fun, fertility, music, and trickster energy.  I like Kokopelli.  I have a Kokopelli key chain,  Kokopelli shower churtain with matching bath accessories, Kokopelli figures on my book shelf, Kokopelli wine glasses, and a Kokopelli art thingy over my fireplace with six Koko-figures holding hands, dancing, - Oh, and a larger Kokopelli figure on the wall of my patio.  Cool Mary and I have Koko-pelli tee shirts (not matching) and we laughingly call him Koko-puffs.

Yesterday, Cool Mary mentioned that from the first time I introduced her to the mythic figure she thought, "Well, of course, he's just like her!"  I hadn't considered that before, but now that the idea has had 24 hours to percolate in my brain, I'm liking it more and more.  Mary wasn't too sure how I'd take her observation.  I guess there are some people who might be offended at the suggestion of a tricksy personality.  I'm not one of them.

We talked a little bit about that tricksy bit.  And the more she said about it, the better I liked it.  For sure and for definite, I'm not boring. 

I like the idea that I may have already achieved my aspiration to be quirky without realizing it.  In fact, I feel so good about it, I'm thinking of dedicating my after meditation breaths to being grateful that I'm the kind of person who adds fun to the lives of my friends.

*****

One of the things that Michael's Autism group has been working on is "unexpected behavior".  Because they don't understand that their behavior is "unexpected" they can't relate to people being freaked out by it.  To them it's perfectly normal.  So a member of the group sent us this video today with a rather drastic example of "unexpected behavior". 

After all the ho-hum comments about public pajama wearing persons yesterday, I've decided to deliberately and with intent wear my pajamas all day long.  I thought about it this morning after my shower, the pajamas lay there on the bathroom counter, neatly folded, and it seemed very strange to consider wearing them in the day light.  I wavered.  I thought about it.

My pajamas are on my body.  I made sure to use my apron this morning when I cooked breakfast so I wouldn't accidentally spill anything and force myself to abaondon my experimental "Day of Living Comfortably".  I've made it six hours into my day, wearing the pink/yellow plaid bottoms and the loose yellow top.  I love my pajamas.  I love the length, the trim, the light cotton comfort.  I feel daring to still have my pajamas on, on purpose, at 11:30 in the morning. 

I have not yet been brave enough to wear them outside.  I'm sure that's a necessary component of actually wearing pajamas on purpose.  It can hardly count if I'm holed up in my house where no one can see or think I'm odd.  Maybe I'm not odd.  Maybe I'm just enjoying the pretense of being odd. 

*****

We all tell stories. 

We all tell stories in which we are the hero.  In my positive stories I'm a quirky hero.

In the Eckhart Tolle book I've been reading along with a million other people around the world, he's written about the danger of the stories we tell ourselves.  Philosophically, it's easy to understand.  No story is ever really "true".  Even if a story contains nothing but 100% independently verifiable statements (which no story ever does) the first thing that every writer learns is that stories are shaped as much by the information omitted as what's included. 

I've been thinking about the stories I tell myself about myself.  To some degree or another none of them are true.  It's easier to hear when other people tell untrue stories, you know?  I'll hear someone telling about how they are unusual for this reason or that reason, how they are a victim of this event/person or a savior in that situation and with their word choices or tone of voice I know they are exaggerating or have deceived themselves. 

That made me wonder about the stories I tell that aren't true.  I was telling a story about myself the other day in which I said, "I would have done the laundry except I was being lazy."  My listening friend laughed out loud at that and challenged me directly.

"The fact that you didn't get the laudry done is not because you're lazy, it's because you were doing these other 12 things that day."

Cool Mary regularly catches me indulging in negative self-talk, describing myself in ways that are not only unflattering, but untrue.  In the Tolle book over the past week and then in the online class last night I heard that these negative and untrue stories are a product of egoic structures.  Eckhart said that the ego loves a strong sense of identity and nothing is stronger than a negative condemning identity. 

Ahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Through this study I've heard other people describe their "Aha" moments and I couldn't relate.  Either it seemed so obvious or so esoteric that their realizations had no meaning for me.  My Aha moment might not mean anything to anyone but me, and that's okay. 

*****

Bill asked me last week whether I've been practicing my meditations.  Uhm, no, not really, no.

Tolle has a lot to say about the importance of stillness.  I wouldn't say that I've resisted that teaching, at least not intellectually.  But I've heard it with a kind of, yeah, okay, right, BUT...

Henry Blackaby in Experiencing God said, "don't just do something, stand there."

The Bible says, "Be still and know that I am God."

I say, "I'll have time to be still when I'm older, or dead.  But in the meantime all that not doing makes me nervous.  So if you'll excuse me I'll be over here washing dishes, or sweeping the patio, or vacuuming - oh and there's always laundry, and shopping, and cooking, and ..."

Tolle said that "one breath in and out can be a meditation".  You know what?  I can breathe.  Without much effort, without having to remind myself I breathe pretty much all day long.  If I can breathe, I can access little moments of stillness.  It may not be a mind-altering meditation with the formation of new neural pathways, but I'm willing to try the stillness of a breath. 

*****

Chapter 5 is called "The Pain Body" - that doesn't sound like much fun.  But I wonder what I'll learn ...

I have new pajamas.  Finding new pajamas is a thrill only slightly less exciting than finding a new pair of shoes.  I love my lounge wear.  In fact, I'd be so happy if it became acceptable to wear pajamas in public. 

These have a minty green top and plaid cotton capri length pants.  Capri length pajamas are the best thing EVER.  Because my legs are so short, this means they fit me perfectly.  I don't have to cut off the pretty trim at the bottom of the legs to hem them to proper length. 

I like them so well, I'm planning to go back and get them in another color.  Like pink.  Pink is nice, and happy. 

I've been thinking about happiness, reading about happiness this weekend.  The book that I kept trying to read on the patio is "The Art of Happiness".  To be honest, it's amazing how few of the concepts in this book, or the Tolle book are new or innovative, they are reminders of what we all already know about being happy. 

Some of us have struggled with the idea that deliberately focusing on our own happiness is a selfish thing to do.  But study after study demonstrates that happy people are open, compassionate, helpful, and fun to be around.  Unhappy people tend to be irritable, self-centered, intolerant, and frankly a drag. 

My kids are well into enjoying their spring break.  They are happy.  I'm sure they are happy because I've tested them this morning by suggesting that they could do some chores.  They have happily done everything I ask.  So we have laundry going, the trash has been taken out, and the dining area vacuumed. 

Joe the cat seems happy, but he's not quite as helpful.  He's fascinated by the cotton rug on the floor in the living room.  He has figured out how to burrow under it and run around like something from a cheesy horror film "The Thing that Lives Under the Rug".  I guess that's helpful in it's own way.  It's certainly amusing.  As is his habit of extending his hind leg in a joint defying stretch over his head and peering closely at the space where his private parts used to be.  I probably shouldn't laugh, but it's funny that even after six months, he still looks surprised every time. 

Gladys the other cat is probably happy too.  She's sleeping on my bed so she's at least relaxed.  (No snoring though).

I'm happier than I've been in a couple of months.  Usually, I think of external circumstances as being the standard for judging my level of happiness.  In this instance, it's the internal environment that's changed.  My brain chemistry is adjusted enough that I can sleep again.  Being well rested gives me a clarity of mind that's enabling me to accomplish more and an energy to get it done. 

I wonder which of my shoes will go best with pink pajamas ... I could start a happy trend here ...

May the light of rebirth and renewal shine on you all today and always. 

Terri