Category Archives: Writing

Contemplation, Family, journaling, Life, lifecoaching, Me, meditaton, Native American Women, Writing

The Day I Started Taking Over the World

 

It was a long time ago, this story’s beginning.  A child was trying to be born.  Her mother, just a child herself, a little bitty sprite of woman.  Still three months shy of her 17th birthday, not 100 lbs., tiny, bound and determined to be someone’s mother.  Her small size was causing major havoc on her body this day.

The things that she should have known, she did not.  The things to do, what to expect when going through your first child birth, the danger signs, what to tell your doctor…all of this she was not aware of, not because she was incapable, but because she was alone.  Raised by her grandmother, mom left when she was very young.  Pregnant on purpose, because if she was pregnant, they had to let her get married.  A husband who was about 5 minutes older than she.  You might say, she was an angry young person to do all of the things her father and grandmother told her not to do, and you would be correct.  Nevertheless, here she was, in labor with her first child.

Now it was time.  While modern as hell, it was 1962, and the things they know now, were not the things they knew then.  They pumped a lot of drugs into that tiny body as she was ready to give birth.  Her labor was long and hard.  When the child finally emerged, she was blue, lifeless.  Fetal monitors not what they are these days, I can’t tell you whether the medical staff expected this or not.  But the young woman had now gone into seizure immediately after the birth and it took the concentrated effort of the entire medical team to save her life.  The stillborn child was placed on a cold table next to the gurney and forgotten as they worked to keep the little bitty woman alive.

Minutes pass, the mother-to-be will survive.  As the doctor and his nurses continue to stabilize her, for no reason anyone can name, that little blue baby begins to wail.  She announces her presence like it is no ones business.  Everyone turns in surprise, maybe even awe.  Not expected, not expected at all.

Flash forward, 56 years later…no matter how I have lived my life in the past, I think about how I began in this life.  No, I don’t remember it, this is the story that my mother told me, more than once.  No matter what kind of decisions I made in the past, I make them now with this story in my heart.  I still do this to people, still, for no reason anyone can name, announce my presence…and yes, sometimes with a wail.

What do you say to a person who started out like that?  What do you expect from someone who decided to live even when others thought she would not?  I asked this of myself, more than you think.  I continue to answer myself every day.

 

 

Standard
Contemplation, journaling, Life, lifecoaching, Me, Native American Women, Nature, Writing

56 Bottles of…

I’ve been having a really hard time of things this week.  Winter does that to me from time to time.  I have claimed to be of the Bear clan.  Winter can be quite confusing.  My mind racing some days and other days, I just not sure who I am.  I eat too much, want to sleep to much.  The earth is supposed to be at rest right here in my neck of the woods, but some days, it isn’t.  Even this little bit of writing just looks like a jumble of words to me tonight.

I have had some clearer moments this week.  The cold does that to me, as well.  I see better when the cold kills the pollution in the air.  I watched some geese flying south.  I thought for a minute, how strange it was to see geese flying so late in the season.  Not that winter is half-way gone or anything…but if I were a goose, I think I would have high-tailed it to the beach long before mid-January.  The squirrels have been crazy-busy.  All those black walnuts I painstakingly raked out of my yard are now being dug up, from the middle of the yard, and spirited away to hidey-holes.  With all this activity I am not surprised at every new announcement of snow storms approaching.  Reminds me of that joke about the weatherman predicting a bad winter, because he saw the Indians cutting lots of fire wood…and the Indians cutting lots of fire wood, because the weather man predicted a bad winter….the announcements for the weather come way before either, said the geese and the squirrels.

The hills, now with bare trees looks like some old man’s balding head.  His hair sticking straight up and his scalp all white since the first snows fell.  I see houses out in the woods that I had not seen since last winter.  I wonder what those folks think when they see cars rolling up and down the highway, that they hadn’t seen since last winter.

I completed two video “how to” courses this month.  I have some webinars to attend…maybe that’s part of my problem, it feels like I have physically done something, but I haven’t.  I’ve only missed one day of work due to bad roads, but it feels like I haven’t been in a long time.  OK, so maybe it’s just the cold weather, bad roads and sitting in the house for several days.

And then there’s the 56…in a couple of weeks I won’t be 55 anymore.  I’m not sure what to do next.  I’ve never been here before.  It’s not time to retire, but I’m no spring chicken.  I love my job, I hate my job, there are so many things to do, and I don’t want to do anything.  It’s a strange mood.  I begin to understand how some of my ADHD friends feel all the time, minds jumping around from one thing to another.  They seem to handle it better than I have been.  This winter seems to be making me a bit crazy.  My upcoming birthday seems to have done the same.

Truth be told, I’ve been “a bit crazy” for a long time, I just don’t think I noticed it, or at least I haven’t admitted it to myself.  How many days until spring?  Perhaps by then my mind, my thoughts, my everything will have settled and I won’t be so…whatever this is.

 

 

Standard
Contemplation, Cooking, getting in shape, journaling, Life, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Skinny Me

Ha!  Skinny me, my ass.  I am on the Keto diet these days.  I am actually losing weight.  I really don’t miss the bread.  Twice this week my husband had made cookies, chocolate chip and monster cookies.  I would like to say that I am mad, but I am not.  Over all, it has not been bad. But for the last two days I haven’t been able to hit my protein and fat macros.  Getting to the carb macros has been easy since I can only have 15 carbs a day.

I am thinking that for the next week I need to add a lot of salad.  I feel the need to add to more fiber.  Tomorrow will be tough.  It is time for a woman’s sweat and there will be women, so there will be food.  I will have to prepare my food ahead of time to stay on track.  I did ok today with pork rinds and beef sticks…can you imagine, pork rinds and beef sticks for breakfast/lunch?  Wow.

I have been tracking my ketones and I have been steady in Ketosis for the last two  weeks.  I think that if I weren’t seeing any results then I would just quit.  But I am seeing stuff happen.  This is exciting for me.  My body has excess ketones, my blood sugar has dropped dramatically, my weight is dropping (more slowly than my daughters) but dropping, nonetheless.  I am off both diabetic meds, one I have been on for years.  Yep, exciting.

I have started exercising, kind of…I am raking leaves and walnuts out of the yard.  There are 14 walnut trees in our yard, there are a lot of walnuts.  But, it is burning some calories.  I haven’t had a pop since Oct 1st.  I haven’t had a slice of bread since Oct 1st.  I am even starting to be OK with the stevia in my coffee in the morning.  Ever heard of Zevia?  It is pop with stevia in it.  No calories, not carbs but it tastes like diet pop, I hate it.

Maybe tomorrow won’t be too tough.  I cannot tell you how many times I just wanted to pull into a fast food drive thru today, but didn’t.  I was hungry.  I hated that I didn’t have time to eat breakfast at home.  Friday’s suck for me with all the work requirements I have.  I just can’t convince myself to get out of bed before 7am and by the time I wake up and have a coffee, write a few reports and fax them out the where they are supposed to go, it is time to leave and there I am, heading out the door without proper nourishment.  I need to plan the better.

Sometimes I do just sit around and dream about the old days and I wonder if  you can make a decent frybread with almond flour….cloud frybread?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Standard
getting in shape, journaling, Life, lifecoaching, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Jump rope

It’s been quite awhile since I sat down to write anything.  I have been missing the easy thought flow of just getting things off my chest.  I have missed many opportunities in the past few months because I was just so often, too tired.

I am tired still, but have determined to start writing again, even just a few words to let out some of the angst built up inside….out.

I have been reading…that’s a good thing.  Even if I haven’t written things down, I am still filling my head with all sorts of stuff, sci-fi fantasy, murder mystery, psychology…you know, just the basics.

Then I picked up a “program”.  I still struggle with getting older, fatter, slower.  I still dread going to see my doctor since after the age of 50 it seems that every time I go, there is something else wrong with me.  I cannot tell you how much that pisses me off….just when you really start to figure things out, your whole body starts falling apart.

What to do, what to do?  I started using essential oils.  My house now officially smells of way too much hippy, but I feel better.  I take some great supplements and my mind is sharper, my heart stronger, my immune system stronger.  These are good things.  Not a bad start.  I have been using the oils for a year now, the supplements for about six months.

Today I added more supplemental stuff.  I have to say “stuff” because I cannot find the proper place to put a really thick, very dark green chocolaty coconut flavored…drink?  It’s very weird.  Almost yucky but kind of yummy kind of drink.  I have been sipping on it for any hour now.  I just need to bite the bullet and get it all down so I can get to bed.  New things tend to take me a minute to process.

My biggest procrastination for the past two months has been exercise.  I have such good intentions….

I have even gone to far as to use some bullet journaling techniques to put a little calendar in my “my physical me” journal to track my chosen exercise program.  It’s been in there for two months and so far, I haven’t started filling it out.  April and May…blank.

Honestly, I was scared.  Sometimes my eyes are bigger than my stomach and my minds’ eye holds a picture of a thing that is no longer possible.  I was scared of what would really happen if I went ahead and started my program.  Being 55 is hard work.

Picture this: a 20 year old active duty Airman, holding on to 125lbs for over 5 years, feeling really good about everything, heading out to the gym and working out for an hour or so with no breaks and actually walking out like “this is how the world is supposed to work”.  Yes, that was me, 35 years ago.  My heroes were people like Muhammed Ali, Joe Frazier, Sugar Ray.  Boxing was as much an art to me as a sport.  I loved watching those guys’ workouts as much as I loved watching them in the ring.

I did not use the heavy bag or the speed bag…I wasn’t looking for muscle mass.  But I could jump some rope.  I used to jump for 20 minutes during each workout, Ali style, fast, fast, fast.  I would jump in front of the mirrors to make sure my style was perfect.  Did I mention that I weighed 125lbs?  I also hated looking like a rookie.

I have always said that the outcome was nothing to dwell on….but you gotta look good while your doing it…whatever “it” is.  So I jumped rope and I looked good doing it.

This is what my calendar is for…my goal, to jump 1000 times a day.  But, there is that “minds eye” thing….holy cow……

The book I am reading suggests jumping 7 minutes, twice a day.  This seems perfectly reasonable to me.  Still, it took another 3 days for me to put my shoes on and pull my rope off the peg it had been hanging on for a long, long time.

I am thinking that in reality, I might be able to jump a couple of hundred times without passing out.  I HOPE I can jump at least a couple of hundred times without passing out.  I asked my husband to come outside with me and to bring a watch.  He looks at me all funny and says “why?”.  I explain that I am going to start jumping again and I need him out there for support and to pick me up when I pass out.  I am being real with myself by now.

Seven minutes…I start thinking about all of those parables about time.  Is 5 minutes long?  no..hold this 50 pound weight straight out with one arm for 5 minutes.  Is 2 minutes long?  no….hold your breathe for 2 minutes…you know, those parables about time.  I am not stupid.  I know that I will not make it to 7 minutes on day one but I had to start.

OMG….I could not jump for 30 seconds in a row…by one minute, we were both laughing at my efforts, two minutes and I struggled to breath while trying to turn a rope that just would not work correctly.  Finally at 3 and a half minutes, my husband asked if I was done for the day.  YES!  I had to put on the sports rub after I finally caught my breath again.

I knew that I was out of shape but what never entered my mind was my body’s complete lack of cooperation.  How can a person forget how to jump with both feet at the same time?  My legs felt like lead.   I could not have alternated my feet if I wanted too, I tried, my legs just laughed at me too.

I jumped again this morning.  I still only jumped 3.5 minutes…..but I jumped.  I was counting, and several times jumped 25 times or more before messing up.  I jumped again this evening.  I jumped most of 4 minutes.  This time I really did almost pass out and only my Huskie was watching, she doesn’t even care and would have just let me lay on the patio until I regained consciousness.

Tomorrow morning will be my test.  I have to get up and leave for work earlier, my knees are feeling the stress.  Yes, I used more sport rub tonight.  I am supposed to drink the green sludge before I jump….wow.

First, I master the seven minute workout, then I get this drink down in less than and hour, and finally, I add just enough jumps to meet my goal of 1000 per day…like I said, 55 is hard work.

 

 

Standard
Contemplation, journaling, Life, lifecoaching, Me, meditaton, Native American Women, Uncategorized, Writing

Thursday Thoughts

I keep thinking that I have something to say.  Then I sit down and my mind is blank.  I drive around the state all day long with so much going through my head.  I get all excited about sitting down and getting all those thoughts out….but I find now that I am too brain-dead to put too much together.

I find it frustating, to say the least.

So I guess tonight I will just ramble.  Maybe some of those wonderful things I was thinking about earlier will come back.  If not, then at least I have had some typing practice, and I get to spell things.  I am one of those people who, when you can’t figure out how to correctly spell the word you want to use, will just pick a different word.  Hopefully it will convey exactly what I want to say even if it isn’t the first word I wanted to use.

I was on a kick, once upon a time, to use different dictionaries and pick different words every day…that got old and I could never remember any of those really cool words I looked up.  I learned a few new words but overall, not worth my time.

Honestly, there is so much insanity going on in the world that I don’t even try to make sense of any of it.  All these years I thought people were changing, not just some but many people.  Turns out, I was wrong.  We are in such a sad state.

Protesting, fear, anger, I’m right there with everyone.

As a Native American woman I think I can say, for real, I’m scared.  I feel more endangered than ever before.  It’s an ancient feeling.  I am sure that my ancestors knew this feeling well.  Yet I go to work everyday.  Talking with and helping people with disabilities.  I write my reports, supervise the staff assigned to me, and collect my paycheck.

I read a meme on Facebook today referring to all of this insanity.  It was a Buddist monk sitting in a meditation pose and the meme said something like all the chaos being OK since it means that it is clearing out the bad and good is coming after it all.  It was supposed to make the reader feel better.  But all I could think was, how long?

I still wonder…how long?  Will I survive it?  Will any Native person survive a level of hate so high it hasn’t been seen since “manifest destination” ran rampant over us all?

We stay in faith.  We stay in prayer.  It will do.

Standard
Contemplation, journaling, Life, Me, meditaton, Native American Women, Writing

A Little Wine, A Little Sadness

I have to admit to being a little sad these days.  You might think that sometimes winter does that to some people  but winter does not make me sad.  As a matter of fact, the first day of winter is often the happiest day of the year for me.  It means that the days will no longer be getting shorter.  The days do, in fact, start getting longer and this is quite awesome.  Conversely, as you might imagine, the first day of summer is one of the sadest days of the year for me.

You might think that the end of greatly anticipated holiday cheer would make me sad.  It does not.  I am relieved,  as most mothers are, once the crazy season is over.

No, not any of the things that you might think….my computer died and now I am sad.  Sad enough it seems to drink wine and attempt to blog from my tablet.  Oh, some folks might just laugh but I am a very tactile person.  This flat screen is not my thing.  I bought a blue tooth keyboard for my tablet way back when.  I used it so much that I had to use white fingernail polish to repaint the keys, twice.  Then it died…I was sad that day also.

I think I have things to say.  I feel words making my figertips itch for keyboard action.  This is difficult.  Failed hard drive, devastating news.  No tax return…yet, no new computer. 

That’s it.  That’s all I wanted to say.  To let cyberspace know why I am absent.  Thinking about another glass of wine…cause you know, what else can I do if I can’t write?  Ahh well, breaking into my stash of cool pens, running two journals at once, I will get through this, I hope. 

Maybe this is the universe telling me to read more. 

And now that I have said all of this, I am not so sad…either that or I have definitely had enough wine for the night!

Standard
Contemplation, journaling, Life, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Piano Fingers

I was perusing Facebook the other day and watched a video of four people playing the same piano.  They all took turns turning the pages and smiling, eight hands roaming up and down the keys as they pounded out the piece they were playing.  I liked the music and pictured the same piece being played on four different pianos by the same four people.  It would have sounded the same but would not have been as fun to watch.

What I noticed more than everything else I was watching was that they all did that thing piano players do, you know…rocking back and forth to the music as they changed tempo and raised and lowered sound of the keys from soft to loud and back to soft.  All piano players do it…as I have observed.  I am not a player so I can’t say that I do it but I notice things like that.

It started me thinking.  I could start imagining myself sitting at the keyboard of my laptop rocking back and forth as I pounded out my blog or a story or a chapter in a book.  I could imagine writing faster and slower, changing tempo as the thoughts rolled out of my head and to my hands; pounding now and lightly tapping then.  I wondered how that would look to the casual observer.  I wondered if getting so into my writing would cause me to do the same so I sat down and started writing.  My first words were tentative and as the thoughts began to flow my typing got faster and faster and mistakes were backspaced and corrected quickly then the thought would end and everything would slow until the next thought was born.  Two hundred words, three hundred words…five hundred words and so on until the piece was completed.

Funny thing is, I never once swayed forward or backward.  I didn’t lower my head and listen the tapping as I created each sentence.  The speed varied on the thought but that was about it.  My typing as always been a bit like listening to a DI walk across the room…rather loud as each heel strikes the ground as the DI pounds each step into the floor.  Yes, I walk the same way as I type…just a bit intense.  I have had to paint the letters back on the keyboard I use for my tablet twice now.  Still, no swaying to the words the same way that a pianist sways to the music that is being played.

I would stop every now and again to look back over my work. Piano players, I noticed, don’t do that.  When I didn’t like the way a sentence ended or didn’t like the way one thought flowed into the next I took the time to fix it.  Again, piano players don’t get that luxury.  Once the music is sounded it is out there and once a mistake is made the best you can do is try to cover it up with the next note or change the piece altogether and then let everyone think that you meant for it to sound that way.

These are just the things I was thinking today.  All I can say about that is piano players are not typist when they are playing and typist are not piano players when they are typing.  I think that even if I did play the piano I would not sway to they typing like I would sway to the music….

Standard
Girlfriends, journaling, Life, lifecoaching, meditaton, Native American Women, Retreat, Writing

My Sacred Journey

I have such wonderful friends.  But even as strong as we would like to be there are times that even the strongest of us hits the wall and dang, does that hurt.  We all decided long ago (everyone in my tiny circle is not as young as we used to be) that we were not going to allow that wall to stop us even if it slowed us down a minute.  So we decided to get together and have a weekend retreat.

The crew, like any crew, as specialties.  My specialty is being a life coach so I took the lead.  I named the retreat, set the agenda, made the to-do list and lined up the teachers.

We learned some mediation do’s and don’ts.  We learned some easy-peasy journaling techniques and we studied-just briefly-the how’s and why’s of “chemical reactions to emotional inputs”.  We built a “God box” to work on faith building and….we talked!

We talked and we cried and we laughed.  We acknowledged that we are strong and that we are fragile, that we are young at heart and as old as the hills.  We heard, from our own mouths, some real wisdom and some really silly notions.

It was a good weekend!

Winter is coming and this is where we needed to be….looking at ourselves, getting ready to get into hibernation mode.  We are not bears so we cannot sleep the winter months away but we are women and we can take this time to slow down and look deeply into our mirrors.  We can use this time to really think about everything we went through this weekend….to think about our Sacred Journey, about the women we walk with, about those we have left behind, about what we learned and what we want to learn next.

We will open our “God boxes” next spring after we have filled them with our prayers to see what has transpired in our prayer lives and see our how our faith as grown.  We will have laughed and cried even more when the winter is done and the spring has started again.  We have so much to look forward too.

Now I am sitting here thinking about everything that happened this weekend and find that rather than be physically, emotionally and spiritually drained I am excited and energetic.  It is so wonderful to be with such wonderful women all weekend and to know that we have fueled each other, built each other up and took the time to remind each other how much we really mean to each other and to ourselves.  I am filled with gratitude.

My sacred journey continues….

Standard
Contemplation, getting in shape, Life, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Lost and Found Again

I work very hard at knowing myself.  Looking into all the nooks and crannies can be tedious at best and scary most of the time.  But there are times when I let myself get worn down and suddenly I find that I am empty.

It’s not the good empty when you release all your stress and can sleep soundly again.  It’s the empty that you feel right before you realize that depression is the next stage of your digression.  It’s not a comfortable feeling.  I don’t like it.

Then, as it has happened so many times before, the miracle to wake me up and help me focus again.

I was talking to my nephew on the phone last night.  He and I have stressful jobs in social services.  We compare our days and make our jokes and dream of winning the lottery so we can leave our stressful jobs behind.  I confessed that I have not written anything in months, no blogs, no stories, nothing.  Then the magical words, the miracle…”Auntie, you have to recommit”…simple, easy.  He excitedly told me of his newest writing project and let me know how much I would love to meet the elder he is working with and added that he had to do the same thing…recommit.  He sits down every day to write…even if  he only gets in 10 minutes a day.  Our normal hour and a half conversation was cut short as it was getting very late and he still needed to get his writing done.

I was exhausted last night when we spoke so I didn’t write then.  Today I wrote some reports and sent some faxes and made some phone calls.  These things are never done.  There will always be reports to write but this is not the style of writing that I like to do.  So tonight before I go to bed, as tomorrow promises to be as crazy busy as the days of the past couple of months, I will write.   I will be happy that I took the time to sit and let the words flow even if it was just for a little while.

I took the 21 in 21 Challenge this month, to walk 21 miles in 21 days.  A nice way to help rebuild that walking habit.  I wrote at least one report I was behind in each day.  I cleaned a spot in my house that I haven’t cleaned as faithfully as I should.  This ‘recommit’ theme seems more of a command than a suggestion for me.  I’m a life coach, I notice those kinds of patterns.

I am less frustrated with me now.  I am beginning to feel purpose again.  I will probably still only blog a couple of times each month but my stories will start making progress again.  Even as I write tonight, new aspects of the stories coalesce where only fog was present before.  Artwork that I need begins to seem ‘not impossible’.  The emptiness is filling up.

Thanks nephew for saying the things you are supposed to say!

Standard