On the 7th Day She Rocks

I've carved out Sundays for my own. Most people know that I'm not up for plans (unless, perhaps, they've come from out of town or if it's a VERY special occasion). Not even the boyfriend gets time on Sundays, and that's saying a lot.

The routine goes like this, generally: wake up, flip through the paper, hit the farmer's market, ThriftScore, yoga, and then back home to do some kind of creative thing, like freelance or sew or make jewelry or try and make some kind of sense of my desk. Or paint. Or rearrange furnture. You get the picture. Sunday's always a solo day, with the major conversations happening in my head.

Today, though, I realized that I was surrounded by like-minded kindred souls. Two of my favorite girlfriends were at yoga. And I went fabric shopping for hours in the fashion district, pawing through hundreds of bolts of home decorating material, with a friend from work who is the only guy I know besides my Dad who can rock a sewing machine.

All the people I was with were on their own path. But the paths joined and we walked them together for a while. Kind of like being alone, with company, which was nice.

Nesting Frenzy

Here's what the equasion seems to be:

Informed about better-than-expected tax refund + news about great trip to Japan for 10 days + anticipating a child in the home + madly in love with boyfriend = INTENSE NESTING FRENZY

On my way to yoga tonight, I thought I'd buy Steve a sweater for Valentine's Day to introduce the prospect of possibly, maybe, providing a companion garment to the one he wears. All. The. Time.

But of course I had to make a detour into Anthropologie, because I have been invited on a trip to Japan for 10 days to taste sake and miso, and it is cold there, and clearly none of my current wardrobe will do. This is a store that switches my brain into French Bohemian mode and gives me all kinds of lifestyle fantasies, such as serving mint juleps to my guests in pink-washed glasses from Czechoslovakia, or having books on obscure cultural subjects on my coffee table, or hanging embroidered dish towels on fanciful ceramic knobs in the kitchen, or paying $238 for a sweater.

But tonight I found the happiest shower curtain ever on sale. And a couple knobs. And then I went on the hunt for coordinating towels and floor mat. And another curtain for the shower window because for the past five years, anyone who happens to walk by can get a pretty good idea through the frosted glass if it's a man or woman taking a shower. And a pot scrubber that looks like a flower. I don't know why that was so appealing.

And I will paint my bathroom this weekend and make it a cozy and scrumptious nest, which will perhaps give all who use it lifestyle fantasies.

I never made it to yoga. And maybe Steve doesn't even want a new sweater.

The Thing You Resist

The thing you resist is the thing you most likely need the most. Like if you keep putting off cleaning your desk, it is precisely what you should be tackling. For years, I resisted a yoga pose that was too hard and too awkward and made my left arm go numb. It's called "Eka Pada Koundiyanasana," or "hurdle" pose. When it comes time for the class to do this, I usually get up for some water. Or, do another easier arm balance. Or make a miserable attempt and end up in a heap on the floor. Which, fortunately, is only about 6 inches from my head in this setup.

But a couple months ago I really began to try to get this one. And again, each time, I'd end up on the floor. Today I shocked myself by coming up on my arms and stretching my legs out to the left. I hung there in the air. Suspended, balanced. And the teacher saw. And then I fell onto my face.

It reminds me of the time Lucy finally caught a squirrel by the tail and was so shocked, she stopped and opened her mouth in awe, and the squirrel ran away.

What are you resisting that you probably need?

Going in Deeper

From my teacher tonight: In yoga, there is only so much you can do, so far your body can go, and then you have to take it deeper within.

I have been contorting myself in all manifestations of forms since about 1997. Yoga is familiar to me, it is comfort, I feel at home and it helps to ease my monkey mind. But I still can't do Lotus. I still can't do a lot of things.

My teacher's words resonated, and I wondered how I can apply this outside the studio. My job is to help people -- journalists in particular -- become more aware of the (very worthy) environmental initiatives of the company where I work. In three+ years, there have never been two days alike. Yet I get it, at this point. I'm good at my job and I can do it just fine. And because I am grateful to be working, it might be time to do what the teacher said -- how do I go deeper? Find more meaning and nuance?

As a person who has never married, I'm thinking it may be the same with matrimony. Once the rings have been exchanged and the last bottle of champagne swigged by your bridesmaid (who hooked up with someone's cousin? who would have guessed?), you've crossed what some people consider the "finish line." But what if marriage is the starting point? The point at which you've extended every joint and every muscle as far as it can go, according to Earth physics, and then it's time to go deeper into the relationship. Time to explore the space and the nuance and the rich layers of this other person, of yourself, of the two of you together.

What say you? Is marriage a beginning, an ending, or a middle?

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It's All Practice

I'm applying for another job where I work. It's not that I don't like what I'm currently doing -- I'm actually quite enjoying it and just had a major splash with the announcement of the largest solar contract in the world.

But this other job is a little more lucrative and a little outside my scope. It's new. I've never done it before. I spent a lot of time wondering how I will close the gap between "I know I can do it" and "I have the experience" since I learned I'm going to be interviewed.

The other day at yoga the instructor asked us to do something I've never done. It involved crow -- balancing my knees on my elbows, chest parallel to the floor -- then folding over with my head to the floor; then lifting my legs straight up so I'd be in a headstand.

Now I know how to do all of those three separately, so I didn't panic too much. And lo, I put all the parts together and I did it just fine. I didn't topple over. I'd actually been leading up to this pose for the past 10 years.

So that's my selling point to the people who will hire me for this other job. I'm already doing all the parts, just watch me put it together in this cool new way.

Radical acceptance

I go to yoga whenever I can, whenever inertia does not get the best of me. Not only is it good for my high-water bootie (my hairdresser SueAnn remarked today that I have a butt like no white girl she's ever seen, which I'm hoping is a good thing), but also, sometimes the teacher will say something in passing but it will stick to me in the most profound way.

For example.

Last week Shad spoke about "radical acceptance." He was initially referring to accepting how our bodies were feeling as we dragged them in on Saturday morning. Stiff, creaky, perhaps a teensy bit hungover, whatever. Then he went on to talk about how once you fully and totally accept something, you can begin to change it and move forward. Actually, actively NOT accepting a situation or a person or even a bum leg takes quite a bit of energy, because you aren't moving forward.

I love the idea of applying radical acceptance in other ways. Maybe I should accept that I'm 40 and it may be a little late in the game to have a baby -- and then I can move on toward getting myself set up to adopt. Or be the best auntie ever. Or I could radically accept that my brother and I won't have the same relationship we used to before our dad died, and stop trying to act like it will get back to normal. Maybe if I radically accept that we are different, as indiviudals and as a family, then I can move toward making a new and different relationship with him. And then there's radically accepting that I may never look good in a tiny black and floral silk miniskirt that's a half-size too small that I've held on to for three years. Once I accept that and get rid of it, I can move on and find something more suitable.

What should you probably accept in the most radical of ways?

Reverse Warrior

Yoga is a metaphor for everything else. You seriously could drive yourself half bats making all the intellectual, spiritual and emotional connections. In yoga there is a counter pose for every pose. When you spend time bending forward, you move into a back bend. When you stretch left, you stretch right. And so on.

There is a series of poses called "Warrior." For Warrior II, one foot faces straight forward. The other swings behind and points to the corner of the room. The front knee bends and the back leg stays straight. Arms are straight, like an arrow through the torso, in front and behind. Head looks forward, gazing over the fingertips.

When you reverse your Warrior, you bring your front arm over your head, and bend backwards.

As I was reversing my Warrior this evening, I wondered how that could translate. What if we all tried to reverse our Warrior? What if every time we felt super pissed off, we automatically provided the opposite of that and sent love to the object of our anger? So yesterday, when this chick at work was condescending and treating me like a moron, maybe after my initial furiousness, I could have gone over and given her some chocolate. And I would have felt a little better. And maybe she'd think harder next time she said something insulting. And we'd both walk away with a little more sweetness in our day.

On a national level, what if instead of bombing the crap out of people, we showered our enemies with money and clinics?

Consider this:

• So far the war in Iraq and Afghanistan has cost us $555 billion. With a "B."
• More than 4,100 US troops have been killed.
• Anywhere from 87,000-95,000 Iraqis have been killed.
• We are paying bazillions of dollars to fix what we have further broken.
  

What if we gave HALF of that $555 billion to Iraq and built schools and hospitals and helped them with infrastructure issues? And then we took the other half of that money, kept our soldiers home, and used it to rebuild New Orleans and Texas and anyplace else that needed a hand up? Or, gee, I don't know, bought health care for everyone here? Or paid teachers like basketball players? Nobody dead! Everyone happy!

There very well may be some kind of life after our stint on earth. Actually, I'm banking on it. But in case there's not, or in case it's not what we think it might be, this may be the only chance we have. Right here, right now. This is the kir royale, the appetizer, the palate-clearing sorbet, the entree, the dessert and the double espresso. All of it. So why not try to make it better for everyone involved?

How will you reverse your Warrior?

Sex and Gambling Made Easy

When we last left off, dear blreaders (okay, maybe there's not a good snappy name for "blog readers"), I had great optimism for my feng shui yoga idea, and had won some money and felt all in love and whatnot after practicing in the Prosperity corner and Relationships corner of the studio.

Today, I bought a raffle ticket at a fund-raiser in which we got to see Ricki Lake's hoo-hoo, and won a KCRW membership, swag tee, Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings CD, and two baby snugli things.

Also, I came home to a letter from my very, very good friend, George Bush, telling me that he's giving me $570! Tax free! That I'm supposed to go out and spend!

Try feng shui yoga today! It's easy! What have you got to lose?

Quite Possibly My Best Invention Yet

One of the loveliest people I know is Natalie Carter. Who is a Realtor. She's an excellent confidante, supporter of even the zaniest of notions, and embodies the concept of fabulousness itself. Seriously, if I were ever invited to the Oscars, which I probably will be soon, I will bring Natalie and wear her fat clothes.

One day I offered to come over and feng shui Nat's place. She had some kind of funky dusty stuff in her love corner, and we put some plants and a $50 bill in her prosperity corner. The next day, SWEAR TO GOD, Nat got a call from a man who was interested in buying a place. And had several business partners. She sold eight properties on that call.

For myself, a couple years ago I shifted around my prosperity corner, which is the lefthand corner of my bedroom, and the next day I got a call from the lovely and delightful Anthony Yeo, who ended up hiring me for the job I hold now.

So. Anyway.

I also do quite a bit of yoga.

When you put two, two, two great tastes in one, you get FENG SHUI YOGA.

Now, if that sounds a little too Grape Nuts and Yogurt for you, consider this: Yoga is a more ancient healing practice than penicillin. Yoga keeps people young and healthy and beautiful. Feng Shui, really, is another word for prayer and visualization and "putting it out the the universe."

When you combine the two, you have the physical manifestation of the prayer. So whatever corner you practice in, you're working toward that end. For example, tonight I was in the prosperity corner. With the intention of making obscene amounts of money so I can make life better for everyone around me. (Funnily enough, I had a very good audition for Deal or No Deal's new syndicated show on Monday).

So. We'll just see. I'll keep you posted. Even though it's crass to talk about money.