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Well, I’m slagging. Despite my big commitment to try and exercise more and eat better, I have returned to my bad habits, enjoying red wine with my dinners and choosing to work or rest rather than exercise.
I did go, finally, to a yoga class last week, but I am afraid that I have been spoiled by past teachers who ran their classes as if each pose was sacred and where the practitioners were silent and intent. In a recent class at the local YWCA there was very entertaining frivolity and chatter, but little of the stillness and concentration which I find so alluring about the practice. So, I will continue my search for a yoga teacher. In the meantime, just writing this post reminds me to recommit to my intention to make this a month of mental, physical and spiritual movement forward.
It shouldn’t have to be hard. I even had the weight machine in the basement repaired two weeks ago. You’d think that I would lift. It sits in the basement, silently creating guilt. I think the spiritual lesson here is that the guilt has got to go. It serves no one. Instead I’m going to take a cue from basketball players who– research shows–shoot better if they practice visualizing themselves making baskets. I’m going to visualize myself lifting weights. Until I actually make it down the basement steps I’ll at least be buff in my imagination. And wouldn’t it be funny if that was the key!
I read a couple of really good book over the last couple of weeks after a happy trek to Barnes and Nobles. The first was a new paperback called “The Shack,” which I can already see as a feature film. It was one of those books I was in no hurry to finish. It starts darkly, when a little girl is abducted and murdered on a camping trip. As the years pass and her father struggles to deal with the pain and the guilt of not being able to protect her, he receives a letter from God, asking him to return to the shack where police found traces of the little girls blood. When he returns, the place has been brought to life like a little garden of Eden. God is there to greet him and she is a heavyset black woman who, along with a funny, homely Jesus and a sparkling, glowing Holy Spirit, draw this man back into the world of the living, with humor and great love and much grace. I found myself struck by the author’s vision of divinity, and wishing that God’s love is as it is portrayed in this little book. At the end, the author writes that plans are in place for the movie. If you want to know more, visit theshackbook.com.
Also read “The Scapel and the Soul,” a book by a brain surgeon named Allan J. Hamilton, M.D., who writes about how intuition, premonitions, hope and faith, have altered the destiny of his patients. Hamilton is a good story teller, and takes the reader right into surgery and he deals with matters of life and death and the little miracles that touch all of our lives.
I love to read books like these because they affirm for me that how many people experience a connection to something greater than ourselves and while I’m not willing to join up with those who feel certain as to what that something is, I dearly love to explore the ideas.
So, I had some fun reading those books. But, I’m out of good books again and I hate that. I’m going to have to make a trip back to the book store. There’s a lawn chair next to a kiddie pool in my driveway just waiting for me and my next batch of pages.
I had a baby calf named “Pest” nuzzle my leg in a milk barn in Lockport today. I’m a city girl for sure but there’s something about the soft, trusting innocence of baby farm animals that just touches my heart. I spent the day today at a couple of dairy farms for a story I’m doing on organic farming and humane animal husbandry in the Niagara region. It’s kind of a revelation to learn that there are only a few organic farms in the area. The Haseley Farm in Lockport turned organic almost by accident. They couldn’t afford herbicide one year so they turned the fields instead, which worked just as well. Their vet urged them to consider organic farming because they were already halfway there. The good news for farmers is that organic dairy farming doubles what they can get for their product. That encourages farmers to produce milk that is chemical and hormone free and gives us better access to the choice of buying organic. The Haisley Farm sells to Wegmans. Another farm I visited in Medina was owned by an Amish farmer, Ed Yoder who, surprisingly, is the only Amish farmer in his community to go organic. Except for his son, who also runs an organic farm down the road.
I went to see the Yoeder farm because he was listed on the Northeast Organic Farming Association of New York website as a “humane” farmer, which I thought meant that he practiced humane killing as well, but actually means he practices humane animal husbandry. As he told me, “killing is killing,” and he has to send his cows to the same miserable slaughter houses the other cows are sent to because those are FDA approved. I’m still looking for more organic farmers. Apparently, due to FDA regs you can’t kill a cow humanely. You have to send it to a slaughterhouse where, even if you don’t care that they are brutalized and scared, their adrenalin pumps through their system and must surely make its way into the meat. Can’t be good for us. But at least the cows I saw today are well treated while they are alive. It’s all part of organic farming, which I’m looking forward to learning more about. In fact I’m still looking for a farmer who is engaged in community supported agriculture, where people sign up in advance to receive regular distributions of pure, beautiful, toxic free fruits and vegetables.
I had such a day on Saturday. I flew to Washington D.C. on the Honor Flight with a bunch of Niagara’s World War II vets who went to see the monument created to honor them.
It was so hot that sweat was streaming into my eyes as I was taking notes and asking questions. The heat was record breaking, but the vets I was traveling with had been through a lot worse than anything the weather and the strenuous journey could throw in their way. Some were in wheel chairs and some used walkers and canes, but this proud group of gentlemen made their way to the monument and I was lucky enough to be there to witness. Everywhere we went people stood and applauded these guys in their “Honor Flight” shirts. When we arrived at the Baltimore airport the entire terminal lined up and cheered as we got off the plane. It was amazing.
I got involved in Honor Flight the day that an 80-year-old vet named Harry Kuligowski came into the Tonawanda News where my office is located. None of the news reporters had time to see him so I went up to the front desk to find out what he needed. Harry–who I’ve since come to know as a prickly, funny, tough around the edges, soft on the inside, never say die kind of guy–was looking for publicity on his efforts to get the national non-profit Honor Flight organization to come to the Niagara Region and fly WWII vets to the monument for free. Honor Flight requires that a local non-profit to take the lead so I made a phone call to my friend Debbie Mellon over at the Niagara Falls air base. Debbie, who is a communications expert there, also leads the all volunteer military family support group. Debbie took on the whole project and pulled off a day that no one who was there will ever forget. I documented it all in pictures, words and video for the July 6 issue of Niagara Living Magazine.
Couple of little back stories from that adventure: I was amazed to see Senator George Maziarz on the flight. I had heard he was coming but I kept thinking I had misunderstood. George came as a volunteer “guardian,” one of about thirty who paid their own way to provide assistance to the vets. I have never seen an elected politician, especially one of George’s rank, give up so much of his time and energy for a cause. Usually pols just show up and cut ribbons. George worked as hard as the rest of the guardians, pulling wheel chairs out of the belly of the bus each time we stopped, helping vets move through the day. Thoroughly impressed me. The other local notable that I was surprised to see was Henry Wojtaszek, chair of the Republican Party in Niagara County. I happened to sit next to Henry on the plane and– having never met him before–was really surprised to find out who he was. When I sat down next to him I immediately pegged him as a nice young college student who was traveling with a relative. (Never assume. You know what they say…) Anyway, you get the point…he looks young. He’s probably sick of hearing it but he does, even though he’s in his forties. Regardless, I found him to be as thoughtful and open-minded a politician as I have ever met, and thoroughly enjoyed our conversation. I even confided my ideas on how to restore Niagara Falls as the Honeymoon Capital of the world, and he did not make me feel like a crazy person as he listened. Henry, too, was there as a guardian. He had heard about it from George and simply wanted to join the trip to lend a hand. As a “former democrat-former republican-now independent with both liberal and conservative leanings,” I am heartened to know Niagara County’s republicans have a such pols. Good for them. Good for all of us.
Tough morning. I feel a little hungover. I went to the wake last night of one of my cousins who died of cancer, and since I come from a large Italian family, it was what you would expect such an event to be. Laughter and tears. My cousin, Sammy, who I shall always remember for his long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, was my age and way too young. Took the long drive to Medina with my “girl cousins,” as I like to call them (because whenever we are together we all still feel like we did when we were eleven) and we got lost on the way home because my cousin SuzAnne knew of a better way than my GPS system was offering. Sammy would have appreciated how much fun we had on that ride. Got home and ate a quarter bag of low fat kettle chips–and dip–along a half of a light beer while reading the newspaper. Typically, it takes a bit more than that to give me a sluggish morning hangover, so I suspect my low energy today is a little more about the “circle of life,” than anything else.
This morning I did what I usually do when I wake up to a quiet house. I grabbed the handful of books I keep behind my bed and began paging through them to see if I could send a little infusion of light to guide me through the gray clouds. I stocked up on new books last Saturday during a trip to Barnes and Nobles, but I think I’m going to have to fall back on my current favorite, “A New Earth.”
“A New Earth,” is the book that inspired Oprah to create a global website classroom a few months ago. It’s Eckhart Tolle’s treatise on how to find peace and happiness now, through understanding that we only have this moment and time and that to live our best lives and find our true purpose, we need to fully immerse ourselves in now. One of the few things I’m sure about is that this book can be life changing. I return to it regularly and just open it at random to remind myself to stay present. As Tolle says, the past is gone and the future does not yet exist. The only thing that is real is this moment. This now. Smell it, savor it, live your best life in it. Anybody who missed the classes can check out Oprah.com to watch the video. It’s one of the many reasons I appreciate Oprah, who keeps plugging away, trying to change the planet, using her power for good, despite what some people say. Sure its hard to take life advice from a billionaire, but in her soul, she’s an “everywoman,” and her work on the planet is changing peoples lives. How many people can say that?
As for me, I’m looking forward to my return to yoga, this evening.
OK, in light of my recent episode with hives and steroids, and my vow to spend this month getting a little stronger each day, I tried a push-up this morning. I’ve never been a big push-upper, but I’ve always had strong arms and so I thought that it might be a good way to strengthen my arms without worrying about going to a gym or buying equipment. This morning I tried one. I made it halfway and I got stuck with my face in the carpet. Which needs a good vacuum. I’m going to revise that goal and try to do ten each day for the next couple of days, but standing upright, against the wall. See how that goes. The good news is I’ve found a nearby yoga class Thursday nights after work at the YWCAs of the Tonawandas on Tremont Street. Even better, it’s taught by a woman I wrote about last year who also does “healing drumming,” classes. I saw her do a drumming session at DeGraff senior day care center and she practically brought the house down. Really looking forward to resuming yoga. I remember how great I felt in the couple years where I practiced yoga regularly. I’ll be starting up again two days from now. I feel better already.
OK. It’s day one of my month to greater strength and health. Yesterday I checked out the Curves franchise in the City of Tonawanda. Curves is an exercise spot for women where you go for a quick half-hour workout and you move from station to station to the sound of music. The place was jumping at 9:30 a.m. and the ladies were talking and laughing as they exercised. It seems like fun, but not for me, as noise jars me in the morning. So, I went home and walked the dog for few miles in the gorgeous sunshine while birds chirped and sang like the soundtrack of a Disney cartoon. Nice. My dog, Maestro, liked it too. Nothing like seeing a big old Doberman loll like a puppy in the cool green field grass. I am still considering a month long Curves membership, depending on how I do with my solitary efforts. If I joined for the month, I would stop in after work, on my way home. As for now, I am going to try to begin to do push-ups. My friend Marcia’s son, David, is at Army boot camp and they are making him do hundreds of push-ups–two hundred one day just because it was his birthday! Surely doing a few a day will make me stronger. I believe I can do at least one right now. But, I’ll know for sure tomorrow when I try them. My next effort is to find a nearby yoga class. I loved yoga when I was doing it regularly, and I know it would really make my body stronger from the inside out.
