everything's the same. everything's changed.

This Monday, I received some fantastic news. After a full three months of searching for a job here in Rochester, I finally found one. And was offered the position!

Starting February 8th, I will be the health project coordinator for a study on smoking cessation in the Dominican Republic. HOorAy!

I can't describe the surreal feeling I have at this point, knowing that I *finally* have a grown-up job. I have an 8-5, Monday through Friday, salaried with benefits, job. It's ridiculous. I have to get work clothes. I have to wake up early. I have to commute. This is a whole new ball of yarn. (I don't know if that's a real idiom, but I'd rather talk knitting than sports...) Aside from being a great opportunity to travel and to speak Spanish, this is an excellent chance for me to get into a serious academic study and get some first-hand experience working with international development. Oh man, business trips to the Caribbean. Can't beat that...

So anyway, I get two weeks to finish off my funemployment, and what a gift that is! I've been knitting like crazy for the last 24 hours. And as a result, I now have three hats and a partial scarf. I'm looking forward to selling some items at the Craft/Zine fair at the Flying Squirrel Community Space in a little over a week. I think with some effort (and occasional breaks for my poor hands) I can have a good supply of finished items to sell. Now that I don't have to worry about an extensive job search (read: stint in financial uncertainty) I can invest in some more yarn to really bust out some nice work. It will be nice to know that I can make money back instead of giving everything away. I love making gifts, don't get me wrong, but it's nice to have some return so that I can invest in even more projects.

I'm also looking forward to doing some design projects in the house. Most of all I can't wait to paint. I'm thinking a dark mustard in the dining room, and soft gold in the living room, and white with pale green, taupe and chocolate in the bathroom. I want to go antiquing and hopefully rescue some great pieces for our living space. It's so fun to have such a BEAUTIFUL house to grow into and develop. I almost wish I could just spend all my time decorating, baking bread, and gardening. And knitting. Oh well, the work will make all those things possible, as time allows.

Off to my sister's house to hang out for a few hours. Hopefully I'll stop by the yarn shop, too.

no words.

it's hard to continue in the every day knowing that someone who was so dear to you has moved on from this life. all i want to do now is to huddle everyone i care about close to me and to wait until we all feel safe again. but that's the problem. we aren't safe, and we aren't isolated. and we can't hide from this. no, not this.

the mother of one of my best friends in high school passed away yesterday. i know it's awful to say this but it's really a shame that it was her and not anyone else, because she was so full of light. she was always so happy to see everyone and to see us having a good time. i don't think i ever heard a cross word leave her mouth. we would have sleepovers and she would make us cinnamon rolls in the morning. she named her daughter after a character in the Thornbirds, and i think she will always treasure that gift.

i keep thinking that it could have been my mom, and what would i have done to be more than 7 hours away? how do we ever say a mean thing or not pay attention to every moment we spend with the people we love? how do we let things get in the way?

i have a hard time these days having faith in what the future will look like. it's hard to think about "forever" when forever could end tomorrow. what is it like not to have a mom? i've always feared knowing that. how could it be too much to ask that her mom be there at her wedding? how can there ever be a happy holiday without her there?

i need to stop thinking about this because it's too hard right now. but i'm comforted to know that our group of friends is still connected enough to hold each other in this moment. it will be a long road for my friend, and i hope that i can be there for her, even though i haven't been for so many years. what a sad day, and all of us were just so glad that we had sunshine for once. thanks, liz, for brightening our day again.

dawn.

Hard to impress
because she's already
seen the sun rise today
& it doesn't get
much better than that.

Most of my life I've had a pretty strong grounding, always known exactly who I am. Usually I have to keep myself from bursting with pride in who I am and who I want to be. Only a few periods of my life have left me lost and wondering who this person is inhabiting this shell of a body. One of those periods was in Spain. Completely displaced, with new families, a strange language and culture, and little practice being myself outside of what was familiar, I drifted in an out of self-knowledge. Some days, I'd have this spark of memory, an Aha! moment that brought me back to my spirit.

But sometimes I am just too far from my center. Even now, I don't know how to practice yoga when I'm thousands of miles from my teacher, Hilaire. I don't know what to do without my mornings, my music, my books and familiar places. Even my possessions...rugs, pillowcases, lamps, candles, small trinkets from my travels, help me to remember the life that I've been building.

And yet, there were things I searched for that I've only just found. My whole life, I never felt at home with catholicism. Suddenly, I happened upon unitarian universalism and I have a new home, a new space where I can be myself. I spent years unlucky in love, and now I am blessed by being in a relationship with the exact person I'd hoped to find: someone passionate, caring, fun and adventurous. I can really be myself with him.

And yet, these days, I have a hard time feeling that spark in me. I lack the knowledge of who I am and where I'm going. Perhaps I just need a reminder. Maybe I do this EVERY winter (it's true, sad to say). What makes me feel most true to who I am? What feeds my spirit and reminds me of the chorus of life stories that make up my journey on this earth? How can I celebrate being this beautiful light in a capable, versatile human body?

What inspires me? ¿Qué me inspira?

The resounding answer is...the morning. I am never more filled with possibility than in the early morning hours. I feel alive and liberated and completely at peace. In the evenings I am inevitably disappointed in how little I accomplished. But mornings, man. Those are inspiring. I can wash my face, drink a glass of water, and sneak down to take a look at the morning light. I can make myself a nice breakfast and read something beautiful or interesting. I can think about things.

During my senior year of college, when I lived with 5 other girls, I would often get up early on Saturdays just to have a few moments to myself. I'd make a cup of tea, sit in the living room and meditate or read or stretch. Just having time to enjoy being cozy; that was enough for me.

I like this Brian Andreas story because it gives so much value to witnessing the rising sun. I once hiked a pilgrimage that sun worshippers used to travel to see "where the sun died", "where the earth ended." People used to wonder if the sun would ever rise again. Each time it does is a miracle. And also, with this story, it emphasizes getting the most wonderful part of your day at the very beginning. Otherwise, you could wait all day for that thing to inspire you. And also, what's more impressive than seeing the sun rise? I can say I saw it every day for 5 months in the mountains, and it never got old.

I've always liked the time before dawn
because there's no one around to remind me
who I'm supposed to be, so it's easier to remember who I am

Maybe I haven't been taking the time to remember who I am. Maybe I wake up late and spend the day listening to what others think about me. Whatever it is, the cure is probably taking more time when I wake up to give myself a refresher. And also, I'm guessing that I need to talk to those people who have always kept me grounded. It's hard living so far away from the people that remember who I am when I forget. I grow tired, sometimes, of the thrill of new places and new faces; I'm over the rush of creating a new personality with each new zip code. As many people as I've met here in Rochester, I don't quite feel motivated to strike up new friendships. I get tired of telling my story. I just want to be with people who know everything about me. (This all gets especially complicated when I can't remember who I am. I end up telling lies and making up strange preferences and idiosyncrasies. In short, I stop caring about getting the details straight). What a nut job I am!

When I left Williamston and went to college, I came back with what can only be characterized as sheer terror over seeing people from my hometown. There are, of course, some circumstances that made me dread running into people at the mall (my highschool sweetheart dumped me, I gained weight in Spain, I was no longer a Jesus-loving goodie-two-shoes like everyone remembered...etc.) But in the end, I had remade myself in a good way, and didn't care to explain that to everyone I used to know. Sometimes I just demonstrated it through my liquor-consuming capabilities. (Maybe that wasn't the best part of my transformation, but whatever, I was 20.) All this is to say that I wasn't interested in people from my past because I didn't think they would recognize me after such growth. These days, though, I don't care about how much I've changed. I want to know that something about me has stayed the same. That I have some inherent spark that will always be a part of who I am. And probably in this slightly dimmer part of my life, I want to know that I have been something of which I am proud and could still be that now. (I told you, I'm a gloomy emo kid in January...)

Starting tomorrow, I'm not sleeping past 8am. If I can wake up 20 minutes before the sun rises, I will. Even if Adam sleeps till 11, I will relish my time to figure out what to do with that light that shines throughout my body. I will think of impossible things and start the day out right by giving myself the care I need right when I wake up. I will bask in the miracle of each rising sun.

The time is right; I'm gonna pack my bags
and take that journey down the road.
'Cause over the mountain I see the bright sunshine
and I want to live inside the glow

And with that, I'm going to set my alarm for the morning, get ready for the land where dreams are made.

Peace...

your dreams are always coming true.

It's that time of the month. Soul Matters time, that is. I have my meeting with my group tomorrow, and, of course, I've left most of my reflection and work for the last minute. I meant to look at it this weekend, but I ended up blogging about other things. So, back to Possibility. Let's see what I can work out.

First of all, the spiritual practice that they wanted us to do was, in my opinion, dumb. We were supposed to read a poem by Robert Bly every day. And it was a dumb poem, saying that instead of expecting the ordinary, we should imagine that a moose will come out of a pond carrying your unborn child in his antlers.

???

My point exactly. So we were supposed to read it every day for two weeks and see what sorts of things we would start to think were possible. It's meant to get us out of our routines. Personally, I don't think this would help my spirit, so I didn't do it.

However, if I were to explore this concept without the dumb poem, I think I would start to understand that a lot of the things I'm most proud of doing seemed like really crazy ideas at the beginning. Some of the wildest things I've done have been the most worthwhile. And while I'm looking for a job and trying to shape what my life in Rochester with Adam will look like, it's important to think big, not small. There, lesson learned.

The next part is the challenge. I need to brainstorm all the things I think are impossible. I've already listed these things, and I'll say now that I did NOT succeed in creating a home yoga routine, nor did I fast or do anything else, really. Not even close. I did yoga once. And I attempted to fast once. So, there are some improvements I can make. And I have decided that those things are big leaps, and I need small steps. That means meditating regularly, and mindful eating. The point is, I've figured out what my long term goals are, and now I know what small steps will lead me in that direction.

The other little trick I've learned is modifying my dreams. At this point, I think it's pretty unlikely that I'll go back to the woods to work as a trail laborer. And frankly, I haven't been convinced that I do actually want to. But...I am planning on going back this summer to visit, and hopefully see people from my crew. That would pretty much satisfy that dream of mine, but it fits into the reality of other choices I'm making in my life. I probably don't want to spend 6 months in the woods without Adam and without a phone to call him. So I'll go for a week or two, sleep under the stars, hike some trails, and that'll be that.

I don't mean to say that I should compromise my dreams for things that seem more reasonable. I just mean that I will never accomplish what I want if I will only accept one hypothetical result. Part of realizing your dreams is understanding that your dreams are coming true all the time. Even if they don't arrive in the exact package you expected. And that is the heart of possibility. The ability to see everything as an opportunity, every new experience a gift and every new acquaintance as the potential for something grand.

Living boldly means that we embrace all the little moments that will lead to someplace fabulous. Rejoicing in our small accomplishments acknowledges that every step brings us closer to our goals.

I used to feel like I was such a poser because I "pretended" that I practiced yoga regularly, when really I had only been practicing for a few months. I wanted so much at 17 to be a true yogini. But I knew that it would take time. Because I stuck with yoga and still practice, however sporadically, no one could tell me today that I do not understand the fundamentals of yoga and have a true foundation in the philosophy. And so there is no reason that I should have let that keep me from feeling like I was a yogini. My path led me here, and no one can disprove that those few classes I took as a junior in high school helped me along the way. Even at our beginnings, we are undeniably bound for success. That is the whole power of the future and the unknown. No one can really say "You'll never be a true yogini" or "You'll never become a doctor." Because they don't know the future. Maybe today is the first day of your 20 years as a massage therapist. Maybe all that journaling you've been doing for all these years will be a best-selling book in 3 years. Maybe yesterday was your first day as a lifelong bike commuter. The possibilities are truly endless.

This entire month I have been avoiding the theme Possibility because there is really only one thing that I want to be possible: getting this research job. I want to believe so much that it will happen, and I think I've done everything I can to make sure that this dream is realized. But since I don't know the future, I don't know if tomorrow will bring an end to this job search, and the beginning of another, or the beginning of 5 years with a health project in the Dominican Republic. I want to believe that it is possible. But if it doesn't work out, I have to imagine something equally acceptable to do with my life.

I firmly believe in listening to the messages that life sends you. For example, on a date with a guy that I liked, I got hit in the head with a sign. And that sign happened to say "Sign." That made it pretty clear. I also think that the job with St. Joseph's Villa did not work out because it wasn't right for me. When you have to work hard to make something feel good, it's probably not that good for you. I'm also hoping that it didn't work out because I was meant to have this job with the University of Rochester. And if not, I'm going to spend a lot of time working at a coffee shop and re-imagining my future.

I'll wrap this up with a little story from my friend, Brian Andreas. This has always been one of my favorites, and I think it fits pretty well with this evening's thoughts.

Everything changed the day she figured out
there was exactly enough time
for the important things in her life.

And, because I can't help myself, here's another:

In my dream, the angel shrugged & said,
If we fail this time, it will be a failure of imagination
& then she placed the world gently in the palm of my hand.

song playlist for vinyasa flow

This afternoon I worked on a playlist for a power yoga vinyasa flow. It's about 60 min long, and since I don't like to listen to anything in savasana, this could work for a 1 hour session with 10 minutes of meditation.

You can't imagine how hard it is for me to do a whole flow series at home, even when I'm listening to a teacher on a podcast, dvd, etc. But this actually kept me focused for the whole hour, with the exception of shooing Jilly out of my way multiple times (I need to videotape her doing yoga with me...she actually stretches! LOL) I've made some changes based on how the songs felt while I was practicing, but overall I think it has a good pace.

So anyway, here's a simple playlist that is completely tailored to my music tastes. Which, unfortunately, means that this might not be as upbeat as you'd like it to be. I can listen to pretty emo things, but I tried to keep a more positive yogi attitude--and if not, it's because I know there are times when you're working through something in your head and some of these songs can hit you like a bag of bricks.

The first song is meant only for child's pose, but towards the end you can move into down dog and settle into that pose. You might even take your first uttanasa. The next song is for the first few sets of Surya Namaskar A. These can be taken slow, and held for some time. The third song it to let go and power through Surya Namaskars A and B. Continue them through the 4th and 5th, working up heat and sweat. If you like, add a twisted prayer, reverse warrior, crescent, whatever you like to really fly through this series.

In the 6th and 7th songs, spend some time in warrior poses, uttihita trikonasana, parivrtta trikonasana, uttihita parvsakonasana, etc. In the 8th song, try some standing poses like vrksasana or a supported backbend. In the 9th song, do a slow vinyasa, stopping in uttanasana to do gorilla pose (standing on your hands with palms facing up) or another deep stretch. I like to clasp my hands over my head for a nice heart opener. After your vinyasa, step your feet through your hands and do a paschimottanasana and perhaps a set of wheel. The 10th song is specifically for eka pada rajakapotasana (pigeon). After the last "I need you so much closer..." slowly switch legs, maybe doing a little downdog in between. On the last song, lie in supta bada konasana to let out tension from pigeon, and stretch out your back with some gentle twists. Settle into savasana, and meditate as long as you like!


1. You Had Time - Ani Difranco (5:49)
2. Chicago - Sufjan Stevens (6:04)
3. Float On - Modest Mouse (3:28)
4. Your Heart - Death Cab for Cutie (3:39)
5. Blacking Out the Friction - Death Cab (3:27)
6. Skinny Love - Bon Iver (3:59)
7. Ain't No Reason - Brett Dennen (3:42)
8. White Daisy Passing - Rocky Votolato (3:11)
9. Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap (4:29)
10. Transatlanticism - Death Cab (7:55)
11. Beautiful - India.Arie (4:06)

Feel free to take this and change it however you like. I'm working on another list, but I haven't tried it out yet. Namaste.

breaking the silence.

Yesterday was quite lovely. I had a crafting date with Greta, and we met at her house to get to work on some Zines that we've been brainstorming. We'd already started a ROC City zine, but we were really excited to get started on a menstruation theme. After a whole afternoon of yerba mate, storytelling, and rants, we turned out a couple of great pages. I wrote a page about different sorts of cups, like the Diva Cup, Moon Cup and Keeper. Greta will write one about Instead, and we'll have a DIY page for making pads, and also provide info about products like Glad Rags and Party In My Pants. These are fantastic alternatives to disposable feminine products, and many many women have never heard of them! I use a Keeper, and I like that it is natural rubber, but if I could go back I would probably invest in a Moon Cup. They are easier to work with and are probably just as safe.

Greta also has been working on a page for men about the experience of Catcalling, and why men should never do it again, ever. She, I think, has a particularly hard time with it because she looks younger, she has beautiful blond hair and she is often on her bike, on foot, or on the bus. She also works in a coffee shop where creeps like to hit on her and feel entitled to her attentions. All that said, we've both been pretty stumped about how exactly to approach a page directed at men, one that will actually make them think, and then completely change their ways. And I'm not sure we can accomplish that in a Zine.

However, Adam and I went to dinner last night with a very good friend, Jenna, who happens to be the most intelligent person I know on the topics of feminism, ending oppression for all beings and effective activism. I presented our conundrum, and we had a fantastic conversation that was really illuminating for me. Basically, it seems that most men who have the practice of catcalling deeply ingrained in them will never understand the fear and trauma that they inflict on their targets. Unless the patriarchal system is completely overturned, it will never make sense to them it is WRONG. On the other hand, there are men who are not deeply attached to the practice, but only do it as a form of male bonding or because they interpret their actions as a form of flattery. Both, I believe, are reversible. And here is where my brainstorm starts brewing:

Catcalling is based on the premise that men feel comfortable being the first to speak, and are empowered further when they can say anything they want and get little to no response. They can say dirty things to complete strangers, and they might get only a scowl or glare in return. Sometimes they'll even get a smile. The problem is, women do not live in a world where they can approach or say anything to a stranger (unless is it a motherly type who can tell you what time it is or if the #24 bus has been by). Women cannot smile at any man for fear of initiating more than a simple hello. And if spoken to, most women are terrified that if they express their displeasure in being objectified or threatened, they will be followed, harassed, or worse. This is NOT rare. I think I could talk to any woman I know, from age 11 to 65, and she will have a slew of stories to tell about times when she felt physically and emotionally threatened by being spoken to or looked at in inappropriate ways by men. I personally took the bus and Monday and counted no fewer than 12 stares, honks, comments, etc. It didn't matter that I had a scarf wrapped tightly up to my eyes and a hat pulled down past my eyebrows. It is not because they like what they see...it is because they have power and they have the freedom to exercise it. And it has to stop.

Most women will say they feel powerless when men make comments, even in personal situations. Jenna and I discussed the fact that many men are socialized into a sort of script that provides them with an array of comments they can make and actions (e.g. check out a woman's ass, look at her up and down, etc.) they can take when presented with an attractive female. Their friends, fathers, cousins, uncles, etc. teach them exactly what they should do. And many men are not taught this! Hallelujah! So many men are taught to just say a polite hello, glancing quickly at a stranger's eyes and then right back in front of them. I would LOVE it if I could say "hi" to everyone I pass on the street and not feel like I'm encouraging men's attentions.

So what do we do about all of this?

I think it would be useful to create a zine that breaks the silence around catcalling and other forms of sexual harassment. Just as men have a culture that teaches them how to exert their power over women, we need a culture among women that supports their right to safety and encourages women to teach each other how to speak out. I'm still working out ideas, but I think this is an important issue for women in Rochester and hopefully we will get the word out to them. Making some spaghetti now, so I've gotta run.

breadmaking.

One of the things I have been doing to stay active while I search for a job is--and this is so cliche--bake. I've never really been much of a baker, since I don't like following recipes, but lately I've had such a sweet tooth, and I don't feel like bundling up to get some store-bought overly-processed cookies. Since I've been unemployed, I've made several wonderful batches of snickerdoodles, ginger cookies, scones, and even coconut cupcakes and shortbread. I've also made more than a couple of delicious loaves of bread, including French baguettes. I made those today, and they are delicious! The catch is that once you have some fresh out of the oven, the cooled bread just doesn't taste as great. And Adam surely can't get enough!

Anyway, I'm glad that I've had this time to get to know baking, and, especially, to make some delicious vegan treats that people simply adore. Brianne told me that the ginger cookies were hands-down the best vegan cookies she's ever had, and Charlie said that the coconut cupcakes were perfectly moist. I'm very proud to share these cruelty-free treats, and to have them enjoyed by all!

Baking bread used to be a mystery to me. The power of yeast seemed to be nearly godlike, having the ability to turn water and flour into gooey, expanding, airy dough. My mom used to put her bread dough in her KitchenAid mixing bowl with a towel over it in the front of our minivan to rise. It was pure magic. "Learn to bake bread" appears on my List of Things To Do alongside "Learn French" and "Hike to Machu Picchu". It's THAT huge for me. I feel that when I'm kneading dough, I'm connecting with millions of women over centuries and millennia who have mastered this art of nourishment. If I have nothing else in the house, at least I have a few cups of flour, a tablespoon of yeast and some salt, sugar and oil if need be.

I happened to have that same sensation of connecting with women when, in the backcountry, I would wash my clothes on the rocks in the cold river. Nothing makes you feel more indigenous than standing naked in the rushing water, rinsing the dirt from your day's activities off your clothes and letting them dry on the rocks while you scrub your shivering body. I used to throw everything in my sleeping bag case and hoist the heavy load onto my head to hike up the big hill back to camp. It really is the easiest way to carry such a load.

When I get fed up with life's complications, I like to think about simple, sustainable practices our species have carried on since the birth of our history. Despite the fact that we demand phone interviews, letters of recommendation, writing samples, electronic AND paper applications, and freaking NY State Drivers Licenses, life for human beings is really much simpler. We are not meant for the bureaucracy of this modern age. We were meant for more earthly purposes:

Create a home, create a community, bake bread, break bread.

We make things so much more complicated than they need to be. You can, of course, extrapolate and use these things as metaphors. Buy a house, start a family, make dinner, eat together. But I would encourage preserving the former and ignoring the latter. Except that you can eat more than just bread! I wonder sometimes how I can live in this world. It's hard to drive a car, take a hot shower, live in a house too big for its occupants, mow a lawn and send text messages when I have known another way. I have known what it's like to move exactly at the pace of my own footsteps. I have known cold dips in wild rivers and soothing baths in natural hot springs. I have lived in a tent with the wilderness as my living room. I have maintained trails and restored meadows. I have sat for hours around a campfire, writing songs and talking dreams with people who loved the mountains as I did. It's hard to take these things for granted.

Most days, I just want to move to a farm in a place that grows food year round. I want to "make a living" by building a life. Provide for my family by growing food that I then cook for them and serve. Put in a hard day's work and actually know what the weather was like that day. I want to move at the pace of my footsteps.

There are lots of reasons why that is not going to happen, at least not anytime soon. First of all, it's horrendously cliche and idealistic. And very privileged. I do believe in urban population and keeping the wilderness wild. I think cities are horribly designed and once cars become obsolete (okay, scarce) I will very much enjoy city life. There are great things that come from putting community within walking distance. I'm getting off track.

In the end, I'm thinking today about what is important in life. And I'm thinking about bread.

Baking bread is grounding. So is eating it. And washing clothes, and taking naps, and sitting still, feeling the earth between your toes. What have you done today that really grounds you? That makes you remember that you are a human being, with a long history of living off the earth? What makes you feel the stillness? What makes you feel whole?

I'm asking myself all of these questions, and thinking about the next good thing I will put into the oven...

Sun Challenge

Another one of my resolutions (that I've been kicking around since August) is to begin writing short stories using the prompts from the Sun Magazine. They have a Readers Write section, and give topics 6 months in advance. I would love love love to get a story accepted, but even if I don't, it's still a great way to start writing more regularly and seriously. Here are the next few topics:

The Last Word
Beauty
Slowing Down
Teenagers
The Office
Medicine

The Last Word is due February 1, and I'm pretty sure I could get something in by then. I can't think of a story at the moment, but I'll work on it. Right now, I'm going to get back to reading this month's issue and pay special attention to the stories they include.

It should also be noted that only non-fiction is accepted. Which is fine by me. Fiction baffles me. I don't know how people come up with entire worlds that are not their lives. I'm pretty good at finding a way to make my stories fit into any category, and I'm sure I'll be able to write about Beauty, Slowing Down, and Teenagers. We'll see about the rest...

resolve.

Words color my world.

I don't think I ever could have imagined the poetry that would weave my world together and make it dance in my memory for a lifetime. From journaling as a pre-teen and teenager, to livejournaling as a young college student and then to blogging in The Real World, writing has been my way of making sense of the experiences and adventures that compose my life. No matter where I've been, be it the confused darkness of a family paralyzed by divorce, or the bonnie Highlands of Scotland, writing is compelling, necessary, and important. She is my good friend, and my most trusted therapist.

My love of language, then, is the natural progression of my friendship with the written word. To learn to express myself in more beautiful and exotic words was like discovering a secret garden. I could use these new words with new people, and they would take me to places like San Sebastian, Vieques, and Chefchaouen. I learned more about grammar than I ever had known, and so I became more confident in using my native language to express myself. I find I am always curious about what one word means, and I am fascinated by the posse of other words needed to define one. And so, another etymological lesson:

Resolve. Re-solve. Solve again.
to bring to an end; to settle conclusively; to reach a conclusion.
Resolution. To make a new solution.
finding a solution to a problem.

It's a new year, a new decade. Time for a fresh start. Time to go back to those old decisions and remake them. Resolve to do what is good for us, for our health, for our wellness and our future. We forget that behind every resolution is a decision we made that something was BAD for us. Losing weight really means that we don't want to overeat or to remain sedentary. Quitting smoking, obviously means we KNOW that cigarettes are bad for us. Buying too much, spending beyond our means and wasting beyond our allotment are good reasons to save money and to be thrifty. Part of making a resolution means looking back at all the ugly moments from the last year and finding a new way. How do we make change? How do we start over?

The truth is, New Years is a farce. It is a scheme to force everyone to operate on the same schedule of putting off our resolutions until one day in January. Months in advance, we talk about how we will make changes. "My new year's resolution will be to start running again." "I'm going to finish all those projects I never got around to." The problem is, we can start doing that NOW. We don't have to wait until the ball drops to begin the race toward our dreams. It's like Dick Clark is holding the toy gun, and we're all at the starting line waiting for his signal. As soon as he says go, we can all begin again. But not until he says so. Are we insane?? Dick Clark didn't even say "13" in his countdown! It's time to find a new starter for the race.

What happens if we fall of the wagon in February? Or worse, January 2nd. What then? Is it all over until next year? We're fooling ourselves if we think we only have one chance at this. Personally, January is a horrible time for me to make plans for my future. I'm cold, depressed from lack of sunshine, and generally walking like a zombie till March. I'm hibernating. So I don't need Carson Daly telling me that it's time for a fresh start.

However, I do feel hints of inspiration as I walk mummified through these frozen streets. Yesterday, on a frigid bus ride home with Adam, I suddenly thought about our garden, and what I want to plant this year. Even though I can't put a darn thing in the ground until April, I can still look through seed catalogs and draw up designs for the garden.

The point is, every day is a new day. So hallelujah for that. Maybe yesterday was awful, but today can be completely new. And we should allow our dreams and goals to evolve with the fluidity of each passing day, instead of it all hinging on one cold day just past winter solstice. New Years always creeps up on me, and I find I've had no time during the holidays to imagine the possibilities of the new year. And so I leave that for February. Sometimes even June. No matter what, I give myself the power to decide ANY day that I want life to be different. And if I fail one day, I just go to bed early and let the world remake itself as I sleep. When I wake up in the morning, the day is new, with no mistakes.

That being said, since this is the time of confessing our resolve for change, here are some ideas I have been chewing on:

1. I need a solid, regular, committed relationship with my yoga mat. It seems at this point that the only way that is going to happen is with an unlimited pass to Tru Yoga. So as soon as I have a paycheck, I am going to be spending at least 4 nights a week glued to my purple mat.

2. I need a paycheck.

3. I have been thinking about some lyrics by Ani Difranco, and they've been digging in, so much so that I can't shake them anymore:

"I had to leave the house of self-importance
to doodle my first tattoo
realize a tattoo is no more permanent
than I am"

I think I hold much too tightly onto the idea of what I am instead of oozing with the beauty of who I am. As silly as it sounds, this obsession is currently manifested in the terror I feel in contemplating chopping off my long hair. I have been thinking about it for months now, and still haven't done it, even though I actually found a photo of exactly what I want my hair to look like. The problem is, cutting my hair short feels like such a permanent act. It takes years to grow it long. But I have to remember that it's not a tattoo, it's not a wedding vow, and it's not an infant. It's my hair, and I have the earthly right of doing whatever the hell with it that I please. Yes, it is pretty when it's long, but I also only shower every three days because I hate waiting for my hair to dry. And, as long as it is, all I ever do is wrap it up in a little bun at the nape of my neck. But it's long and pretty, and sometimes I feel like it is a huge part of who I am. If it's gone, who am I?

All that being said, I have a hair appointment today at 3:00. I wrote this because I'm afraid I'll go in and say, just trim it, please. And I think that's cowardly.

More than a few experiences over the past few months have made me realize that this life is really all we have, and the more we sink inside ourselves, the less we will ever know about the possibilities of this world. Having the courage to do such a little thing as cut my hair is part of a huge awakening. If I can't get myself to part with these curly locks, I will never be able to do the wild things I imagine for this life.

When I was little, I used to lie in bed, paralyzed, trying to get myself to get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. I was afraid of the dark, and monsters under my bed, and I would wait for more than 20 minutes, telling myself "Now!....Now!....NOW!" And I wouldn't lift a finger. This went on for months. Maybe years. Until the day I realized that if I had to tell myself to jump, I would never do it. So now I jump before anyone can say "Now!" And it works. That's how I get myself to jump off 20ft. cliffs into freezing cold water. That's how I buy plane tickets (and gear from REI...so bad). But seriously, I deliberate too damn long. I need to trust myself, and know that, as long as there are no rocks at the bottom, I'll survive any jump from any cliff I set my mind to.

So today, my resolution is to chop off my hair. If it's long enough, it will get donated to Locks of Love. The point is, I'm the one saying "Now!" Life is too short to waste on self-importance and fear. So here's to today, and all the possibilities that the rising sun brings.