Open Surrender Strong

These were words in the "No Fear Yoga" practice this morning.  And in a week where fear got the upper hand, they were extra useful. And really great words for putting fear in the right place.

Open heart, open to life, open to love.

Surrendered heart, surrender to life, surrender to love.

Strong heart, strong for life, strong for love.

I just wanted to remember.

So Many Rocks, So Many Hills

Work is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Being the mum to a sick boy is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Making decisions with another person who is equal parts handsome, handy and ludicrous is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Spending money on boring things like tires and groceries is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

Trying to dance with hope while the world burns around me is hard and I don't want to do it anymore.

On days like today, I re-read the blogs of friends who's kids have cancer, or who had cancer before they died and I try to remember these are all wonderful problems I have.

Actually, writing that down makes me feel like a bit of an asshole. Because indeed, these are wonderful problems to have and no amount of clever blogging is going to make them less great problems to have. These aren't even the HARDEST problems I've had. They're just a lot of them at one time and they're getting boring.

And even I know this: boring problems are the best problems. No one wants problems that aren't boring. Not even me.

So today, tonight, the thing I am reminding myself of is that if indeed our biggest problem is that we're bored of our problems, we better figure out how to get unbored in a hurry before life does that for us.

I can't remember exactly how to do that, but I think I'd rather put my time and energy into that.

Stay tuned.

One True Thing

Tonight's yoga practice asked me to remember one thing I know is true.

And I remembered that God loves me.

Or maybe I remembered that I believe God loves me.

And then I remembered that I believe because God loves me, I can love the people I'm given to love. And I can rest in the imperfection of my love for them because of the perfection of God's love for me, and for them.

That is One True Thing tonight, and I'm so grateful.

Parenting while the world falls apart

Two things I've written down lately that I want to remember:

First this, in response to a question about how to offer children authentic hope:

Part of my hope rests in the belief that all that matters isn't just in the here and now but extends into eternity somehow. But that hope isn't really enough to get me out of bed most days. 
Hope that good people do good in terrible circumstances buoys me though. Hoping in material security won't serve us, but hoping in values like goodness and kindness and justice - that even while we are less physically or economically less comfortable, there will be more justice - that is something I can teach my kids to look for and be working to be part of. There are already billions of people living lives full of meaning and value in terrible circumstances - we may well join their ranks, or our children may. But circumstances are not the point of this life - character is, and so I am full of hope that my own children will be people of character who chase goodness and justice, even in the midst of suffering. That's my authentic hope.

Second this, as I made sense of a morning gone terribly, terribly wrong:

What do I need to hear/say today?
I'm not sure, but it's something about being a good neighbour. About loving who you're given to love IN THE MOMENT. This morning it was my daughter and my son and I loved them so poorly. Really, really, really badly.
As I processed it with my friend and co-worker, we got to the inevitable, "Well, what do you do?" and I remembered that all we do is apologize, own our mistake and try to get better, try to make that particular mistake less often.
Here's the thing: I give my kids lots of good. And some terrible.
I try to shift the balance to more good and less terrible every damned day.
Some days, today, I fail.
Most days, I pass.
I'm doing the same thing in the fight against evil. Some days I get it mostly good with only a hint of terrible.
Some days, it's just a lot of terrible.
But every day, it's on my radar and every day, I get to practice doing it and hopefully over time, the practice itself leaves a mark. ON me, on my people, on my world.
The world doesn't have more terrible in it today than it did on January 19. The terrible that is present is louder and has more power, but so does the good.  Good is louder these days. That's a miracle. And of course, power that I care about isn't political power. It's heart power. And I think Good might be getting more heart-powerful these days.

Also, Soft

An additional word for this year: softer.

A group of women gathered this weekend to celebrate my mum. They said a lot of wise things, and many will linger. But Nanny's words, that she wished she had been softer with her people and with her sweet self... that has lodged itself in my heart, and I find myself meditation on it these many hours later.

Yoga is a practice that asks for strength and softness to work together.

Softer. Stronger. That is what this year is going to require of me.

May it be so.

Strength for the Journey

One thing I like about yoga is setting intentions. It has replaced prayer for me in the last year, in as much as I sit quietly at the beginning of practice to see if there is something I can hear. Most often two or three words come, and then I carry them through my practice, breathing them in and out, literally inspiring my movement. At the end of my practice, I remember what brought me to my mat and I lie quietly for a few minutes to let it soak through me, and settle in my bones.

The first practice of the year brings with it the words Strength for the Journey. The prayer, strengthen us for the journey; strengthen me for the journey.

That is what I'm starting this year with: the prayer that we will each find and build the strength needed for all that lies ahead.

Amen.