Before midnight

There are almost no movies made about marriages.  There are a million a year made about the first stages of romance, often ending with a wedding.  It makes you feel like  life ends when you get married - all the dynamic, exciting adventurous parts are over and you just settle into some kind of boring identity-less humdrum life.  When a married couple is in a movie, they are usually the older parents, or the ridiculous neighbors.  The married couple is usually the butt of the joke in some way while the dashing young on-their-way-to-love are the heroes.  This is so contrary to my experience of marriage.  So when I saw this movie, Before Midnight it was like a voice inside me kept saying "Yes! Thank you!"  A wedding is the beginning... Our challenges are not boring or simple or redundant.  There are universal commonalities but so are there in early romances.  The marriage is the interesting part because it is real work.  This couple were strong individuals in a strong partnership.  They did epic things together and they had epic problems.  The stuff of their lives is so rich and complex compared to the usual romance movie.  I appreciated it so much.

He doesn't hear what I say, he hears what I am

I finished day 2 of my 3 day intensive Solidworks 3D modeling class, feeling like an utter failure, to pick up my toddler son so his daddy could have a turn working.  We went to a fun restaurant that had a play area where one of the toys was a wooden puzzle.  I watched my little one take up the puzzle with shining eyes and enthusiastic arms - but he couldn't get the first piece to fit right away.  He only tried 2 times before he started beating the puzzle piece on the ground and crying.

As I reached down to start to help teach my son patience with himself, I heard my Solidworks teacher's voice echoing from my memory, the exact words I was about to tell Hayden.  Things like, "It's ok to not do it right away the first time" "Have patience with yourself - you are doing a great job"  That teacher had the same forlorn countenance when trying to teach me as the one I wore when I saw how upset my Hayden was.

I have been observing lately, over the last few months, that every child (of people I know, friends, people I see, etc) is a reflection of his parents.  When we see our own great struggles reflected back to us in the tender little ones we love most of all, we panic - we want to jump in and rescue.  We know how bad that particular pain feels and we want to save them from it. But we can't help them that way.

The son is afraid - of going into the ocean, of big dogs.  The boy's dad is not afraid of the ocean or big dogs and begs him to try, says things to build his confidence and make his son feel safe, but when the topic changes, he shows how afraid he is of his own big, unknown things - applying to a new job, taking risks. The mom tells her daughter that it's ok to be different - it makes her extra special - but when she is the odd one of the group, she feels so ashamed.

The kids don't care much for our words - they can see right through them, right through us.  Our only chance to tell them who to be and how to be is by showing them.  It was really hard for me today in my class full of mechanical engineers - I failed and failed and failed - I wanted to cry, I wanted to quit. Inside I was beating the floor and screaming in frustration - absolutely no better than Hayden with his puzzle.

It kills me to think my precious boy will feel those feelings.  I want him to know that he is fantastic as he is, no one gets it right the first time, enjoy the process as much as the result, you have a long time to learn these things and you absolutely will one day.

The only way I can teach Hayden how to be patient with himself is to be patient with myself first.

It will be really hard, but tomorrow is my last day of class, and I will take it as an opportunity to learn for myself the lesson that I am trying to teach Hayden.

What my baby has taught me about being human

Having a kid has been the most life-revolutionizing thing I've done and only a bit over a year in, I see how much it's changing me and teaching me.  A few hours ago, I remembered a lesson that Hayden taught me and it felt like recalling a distant memory, so I thought I should write some of them down.  I didn't think I could forget them, but I seem to be.

The one I remembered today was about pleasure.  I have always associated pleasure with wants or thought of it somehow as a secondary need.  The second chakra corresponds to pleasure, while the first chakra corresponds to basic needs.  It's like how you need rice and beans but you just want a cupcake, or you need sleep but you don't need to sleep on a feather bed. I thought this for many years and used it to rationalize what I did and did not allow myself. 

And then I saw Hayden.  Little infant Hayden took visible pleasure in drinking his milk.  It was a basic instinct to nurse - he started at it immediately after birth and he needed it to survive.  But he also enjoyed it.  I heard an interview with a recovering tongue cancer patient describing the return of his taste - and he said sweet came back first.  In the same interview he mentioned that sweet is the first taste that develops in infants.  Why sweet? You would think that for pure survival we would taste bitter or spicy first, so we could detect and spit out dangerous foods.  But no, we taste sweet first - the one that gives us the most pleasure.  

So I started to think about pleasure and basic needs as being more intertwined - and I think it's closer to the truth.  If you feel no pleasure, you don't want to live.  If your life is full of pleasure, you really want to live.  Just like our infants who drink in their most basic food to survive, but also to enjoy.

This became long - I will post more lessons throughout the week as I remember them.

What I learned about Being well for 1 month

The purpose of my little experiment, which is over today, was to give myself a taste of a different way of living - a way that might be better than my normal way - without the gravity of permanent change hence making it doable.

Surprising conclusions of my experiment:

 - It is much harder than I thought it would be to train my thinking to put my wellbeing first.  Over the years, I always thought, my little masochistic ways were a temporary veil over a possibility that would always be there for me.  But as soon as I focused my attention on it, I discovered what a weak little infant that part of me truly is.  It was not something I could do just because I decided to.  My mind has habits of thinking.  Noticing this was a little horrifying - that I can imprison myself in my old ways against my will.

- The most beneficial therapy is harmful if the environment or practitioner doesn't suit.  This really surprised me. I have up until now believed that I should not let interpersonal dynamics get in the way of receiving a valuable service.  When I hear other people rejecting a (hair stylist, dentist, massage therapist) because they didn't like them personally, or don't like the building it's in or smth, I have thought that let's the small things get in the way.  But I was so surprised to notice how uncomfortable I was at times, even though whatever treatment/therapy etc I had bought for myself was well executed - it did not always contribute to my wellbeing.  So now I will be one of those weird people who pays more and drives further just to have the one I like - and it is worth it.

- Another surprise: primping is good for me.  I used to think this was shallow and a waste of time.  But I feel remarkably better just going through my day when I feel that I look good. Even writing that makes me feel embarrassed.

- Dairy is truly bad for me.  I have seen a lot of improvements in the way I am and feel physically since going off it.  I knew that gluten and caffeine were bad for me, but the result I have seen from going off dairy is so good, I will give up ice cream. 30 days ago I think I wouldn't have known who I was without ice cream.

- I did not succeed in going to bed early every night and writing for an hour every day.  It was really hard to fit that in my lifestyle.  I will still try.

- I love exercise! I take a regular weight lifting class and I have become addicted - never would have thought.  I combine it with a steam sauna and deep tissue massage and that is where it's at!!

-hip hop aerobics is my new religion.  Dancing like this connects me to my lower chakras and it nourishes my soul.

Mostly I noticed that this month was not a month in which I lived in my perfect way - rather, it was a month to figure out what my perfect way is.  I overestimated how much I knew about what I want and need, having focused so little attention on it all along.  I am blessed to have my husband - who totally supported my little project and wants me to continue it.

So going forward, I am keeping the exercise and hip hop, selective occasional deep tissue massage, low gluten and no dairy.  I will keep trying to write more and sleep more. I will keep making my brain practice a new way of thinking.

I think I stressed myself out a little bit over this, as per usual (trying to do what I am doing really well), cramming lots of "wellbeing activities" into my week rather than listening to my inner whims.  I will go forward more relaxed and just try to do a better job of letting myself have what I want.

Thanks for listening :)

An Adventure in Wellbeing

This is the first day of my 30 day experiment with a different kind of life. Up until now, I have been a girl who does not take care of herself. I may be pursuing a goal, or trying to please someone, or executing a principle I believe in - whatever it is, I put myself and my wellbeing as a non priority. I notice that most people don't do this. And I wonder if maybe I would make a better impact if I were just always feeling and being my best, rather than doing my best. So, in this month of April, I will be prioritizing my wellbeing. I am not sure if it is the right way to be, but I am going to try it for 30 days.

The basic premise is that I do nothing that is bad for me and everything that is good for me.

I do without all of this:

caffeine

alcohol

TV/movies

sugar

dairy

gluten

checking email 27 times/day

I do more of this:

deep tissue massage

green juice

fish

dark green veggies

sleep

positive hypnosis

hip hop aerobics

yoga

painting

writing

swimming in the comal river

And otherwise, I just try to stay centered on my intentions to always be well in every moment and see where that takes me.

A rendezvous with an old Love...

I just got back from France - a short visit of 7 days, with husband, mother in law and baby. The trip was inspired by my friend Beth's wedding near Dijon and we turned it into a family affair. For my three fellow travellers, it was the first time in France... but not for me.

I spent a semester of highschool there, in Strasbourg - it was my first time abroad - the experience that made me a world traveller. Being there again brought back feelings I had forgotten...

It was like a short, whirlwind encounter with an old flame. France was my First - the one that started it all - the one that made me hungry for more. Its new ways shook me, then changed me: the woman I am today is a direct evolution of that porous 17 year old who soaked in France for 4 months. I love it. I feel like I can be myself there, like I have everything I need there.

The timing of this reconnection is dangerous: tragically, I find my old love again after I am already married - to Estonia. And I have a list, necessarily short to serve the needs of my new child, of places where I can live in this life.

The timing is bad, France. But having been with you again, I don't know how I can go on living without you, knowing you exist.

Perhaps there will be a possibility of a Ménage à trois...

Our Meaning is in Being

One of the most dangerous times in our lives - and perhaps the most overlooked of all dangerous times - is the mid-twenties. It is right up there with the mid-teens in terms of figuring out who you are and what you are going to be; being pulled in many directions; making choices that will impact the rest of your life. This critical period happens when you've been out of school long enough to notice that the world is not as conquerable as you thought it would be but before you have had time to earn the skills and money that you need to actually do any conquering.

I feel like we have social systems in place to take care of teenagers and midlife-crisisers, but I see nothing for the quarterlife crisis.

I was thinking today, while watching my 5 month old baby staring euphorically at a lamp, that maybe nature creates us to have these crisis points exactly when life renews itself before our eyes. We have babies in our mid-twenties: we witness what a human is like in its purest form and learn again that the meaning of life is to love, that nothing superficial matters, bright light is beautiful and curiosity is our true calling.

And then, when we've had a few more decades to toil - and we may come to a point again where we see our life's efforts haven't made the dent we thought they would, then we have grandchildren and they teach us all over again who we are.

If, in seeking the truths of the universe, we look to the other species, we see this pattern. When an animal has a short life, the pattern looks magnified to us -we imagine rows of generations of insects being born, giving birth, and dying. From the outside, it looks so fruitless and pointless - but to experience it yourself, it feels so rich. It looks so pointless, in fact, that it may be in observing the cycle in other creatures that we insist there must be more for ourselves... we try to make there be more... thinking, feeling, trying... activities that lead us to our moments of crisis. And then we feel the peace and purpose of bringing in a baby to the world and for a moment we feel saved.

First Time across the Ocean with a baby

I have run through airports and flown on planes many dozens of times in my life. I started when I was 16 - before the world was afraid - before hypersecurity - and I created it in my mind to the most romantic place. It is a place - even though it is thousands of places (planes, airports, cities, countries). In this place, there are no natives and there are no foreigners - none of us belong, all of us are passing through. And I am not what anyone sees me as or knows me to be - I am stripped of all cultural and social context and therefore feel completely free to be completely me.

I made rituals for myself in this place: I always sample things in Duty Free; I always take my time in the bathrooms; I always take a journal.

A few years ago, a great thing happened to me - I found someone to be mine and he goes to this place with me. His passport is a different color but he likes most of the same things. I compromised some of my rituals but I added new ones: we sit together and speak to each other in a mix of languages (german, estonian, spanish, english, bit of arabic) that we both understand and figure no one else around us can. We get through long transoceanic flights watching movies and snuggling, sleeping on each other in uncomfortable positions.

And for the first time, we are three. I got dropped off to my special place, now with a husband and a baby. In general, I would say my place is not a good place for a 4 month old - the scale and scope of it is too big and busy; there is too much unexplained noise all around all the time; no good places to sleep; no good places to eat; external schedules dictating rather than the schedules of his body. But here are some things I learned:

1. Even tiny sounds are painfully audible in an airplane. Though my baby cries very little, he does make noises over a 9 hour period and those noises are heard by about a 20 person radius, depending on the plane. His noises made his parents stressed because we want to be polite to others. I noticed that as I walked my sweet (quiet) baby down the aisles, there were some kind smiles directed at me, all of them from older people - and I wondered if they were remembering their own experiences.

2. We nursed on the way up and on the way down (to help his ears) - calculating and manipulating sleeping and eating schedules, etc. I begin to wonder if all that was necessary...

3. Parents of an infant don't sleep. At all. We were awake 30 hours straight.

4. My son is a charmer. I watched, fascinated as my tiny baby looked at the people on the plane. He would glance at the crowd and then one face seemed good to him and he looked at that person with obvious intent of being looked at in return. If he got what he wanted, he lit up with a smile, which, of course, meant one was returned back to him. When he got that smile, he was very happy and moved on to the next person. He liked some more than others and they were always women.

This is the one thing I didn't read about plane riding with infants - whatever bothersome noises are erased by their charms. Hayden loved the end, where people had to walk close by him as they unboarded - he made at least 8 people smile back at him. The whole back of the plane was filled with a warm energy as people who hadn't wanted to smile were forced to, and the ice of awkwardness at being in such tight proximity to others yet trying to retain isolation was broken - a dozen people could no longer help but be aware that they had all just been made happy by the same thing - the tiny baby in my arms. Peep and I just watched, stunned and shy. We have discussed that we wish for our child that he be a people-person but felt concerned that we wouldn't be able to teach him. If anything, this experience taught us that Hayden is already a social genius and all we have to do is not mess him up.

Now we are all three in the little garden house Peep grew up in - finally his mother has met her newest grandson. We are where we set out to go and being here is worth the journey.

Silver Lining of the Recession

I had to go to the Social Security office and the DMV both in one day. After a decade or more of going to these places, I was prepared with a folder of multiples of every possible paperwork, something to sew while I waited and a grim forbearance. I was bracing myself for the dull faces who always give me attitude because their jobs are so incredibly boring that they have to make my life difficult in order to make their own interesting.

I was shocked to find the persons behind both desks were lively and efficient and had an attitude like they wanted to help me. No this has never happened to me before - two in one day even. Where did these crummy boring offices find such gems? And why now all of a sudden? Oh, yeah...

I don't know which companies laid them off, but I am so grateful to find them in their new jobs.

Why all mothers are Crazy

I understand today why all mothers are crazy. It is an observation I've made for many years, beginning as a teenager - I don't know one single mother who is totally normal. They worry way too much, have irrational fears or emotional outbursts or are controlling etc. I was really hoping to avoid being that and even thought I had a chance since being aware of a danger can usually aid in preventing it.

But Today, my baby fell onto the floor. I wasn't in the room, I wasn't even in the house. Both his parents were using his nap time to do some gardening and from outside I heard a thump. My first thought, with a primal ache inside of me in some place I didn't know I had, was "dear god, please don't let that be my baby." And as my feet were running to the door my mind was racing to find any other explanation for that sound and by the time I was helpless in that, I saw his tiny curled up body, face down on the floor and he was wailing.

I was crying, I was screaming: I picked him up and held him, shutting my eyes against what I was afraid I would see and I asked Peep, who was right behind me to look. I asked, "Is he okay? Is he okay?" through my tears. (Writing about this makes my stomach churn) Peep was shockingly calm when he answered that he was fine.

And I am afraid that little incident may have finally shattered the glass of my sanity and I am filing into the ranks of motherhood. And I understand it now.

In other things in life, when we fail, we have the option to quit. We pick up the violin and it sounds terrible - We feel bad for a minute but then we put it down and move on to something else. Or even when the stakes are higher: we crash our car and hurt someone, we can say we will never drive again, and so on. But in this task, we do not have the option to quit. I felt it today - like I have failed so badly there is no going forward, and my mind wanted to take me down that familiar route of coping - "let it go, move on" but I couldn't budge. I'm here for life. He's still my baby, he's still in my arms and he could fall again and what's to say I can do a better job then. And I'm only 2 months in.

I spent the rest of the evening traumatized, hearing him fall all over the house and jerking my head around to see him, happy and gurgling. I saw that this was 10 times harder on me than it was on him. And then I saw the future - this is only the beginning - he will fall again, harder even.

Any time people have talked to me about parenting being hard, this is what they meant. I've been saying, "No, we get plenty of sleep." "He really doesn't cry that much." "He's such an easy baby." but they weren't talking about those things. Today was my initiation. And it turns out there's no chance of dodging that bullet, even though I saw it coming a long way away and had plenty of time.

Birth and Death

It occurred to me while I was pregnant that there is a profound parallel here.

While pregnant, I could feel the spirit of the one coming (every woman I know has felt this)

I began to have this eerie feeling: Here I was, walking around in the world and my baby was with me - I felt him - but he was not aware at all of where we were. Looking at the situation in terms of physics, the baby was inside of me and I was walking in the park, therefore the baby was also moving through the park.

It struck me that he was existing on a parallel plane - those parallel universes we talk about in terms of science fiction actually happen in a practical, observable way. He was here but he wasn't at the same time - and that perhaps in this experience I was so privileged to partake in, there was some enlightenment about how we travel to and from this world.

People who have near death experiences often describe travelling through a tunnel toward a bright light. That is also what birth is. The baby, all of sudden, on one fateful day feels called (or is pushed?) through a tunnel toward a very bright light.

Those who have come close to death and come back say they could feel loved ones on the other side waiting to greet them. That is birth - he came out stunned, brand new, and we who knew he was coming caught him in our lovingly awaiting arms.

Now he looks around at the world as though he's never seen it - but he was with me all along. And there were brief instances when the worlds crossed. He always kicked in response to his daddy's loud booming response and it still arrests his attention and gets him squirming. His active time in the womb is still his most restless out here. I wonder then, if that's what our miraculous moments are - when we just "know" not to go that way or when we suddenly feel the presence of a long dead loved one in the room with us - if we are also walking parallel with the spirit world but we just can't see it. And perhaps there are people who know our fate and our watching us develop, and are preparing for the moment when we, scared and unknowing, will birth ourselves back into their world.

The Birth Story

My due date came and went and I was still pregnant. We went from an excited "it could be any day now" feeling to a disappointment and concern. I even started to give up - I had dreams at night that the baby left my belly and went to another person - that he'd changed his mind about being with us.

On January 28, 8 days after he was "supposed" to come, I went in for a checkup with the midwife. She said she would have to make an appointment for me to be induced in 2 days at which point my loosening mind could no longer talk itself into staying together. I nodded and accepted, then left the building and cried for 2 hours in the parking lot. It was like I had failed and that the people who had been helping me along the way expected me to fail. Then, as always happens when something is pushed too far, I snapped back. They can't induce me if I don't show up. So I called the midwife back and said I was sorry but I was not going to go to that appointment, and after much haggling, finally won. My dear husband spent the whole afternoon with me, bought me primrose oil and a wholefoods blueberry muffin that my sister swears made her go into labor.

That night, I sat and stewed and realized I had so many issues. This impending birth was swimming in my fears and past and stories... I had been preparing for a natural birth, training my mind to find it peaceful and pleasurable, though I had never done it before and didn't know how so wasn't sure if I was training right. During my own birth, labor was induced - it was long and painful and the mother went crazy afterward and I have always tried to be nothing like her. And there I was, teetering so maddeningly on the edge of making my first step into motherhood the same first step she took.

So I called my dad. I couldn't ask the question I really had in my mind, so I said something polite and appropriate like, "tell me about my birth, dad." But he must have known, so he answered my real question. He told me I was nothing like her and specifically detailed the differences between our lives and who we are. I felt peace after that, like I could move forward. I can still feel the essence of that evening, glowing with intense emotion and red light.

That night, around midnight, I felt contractions start, the same as in every night for the previous 10 days. They wouldn't let me sleep so I got up and walked. Around 1:30, I began to feel the slightest hope that these weren't Braxton Hicks, but I wasn't about to count on it. But they were intense enough that I thought this was a good opportunity to practice for the real thing so I started trying out different things. I got into a warm bath - it felt really good but restricted my movement, so I had to keep getting out. I turned on my meditation tape but it made me vomit. I tried some belly dancing. Around 3:00 am it occurred to me that this was probably labor, and at 3:30 I had no further reason to doubt that, so I called Lily and Jayme to give them a "heads up" that some time today, I would probably have a baby and to go back to sleep since this was still the beginning. (Labor lasts 18 hours, right?) I was alone in my silent dark house. As the contractions became stronger, I found the best way to get through them was by laying my head down on my arms (on the back of the couch, kitchen bar, etc) slightly bent over with my legs bouncing beneath me. In between contractions, I was doing a load of laundry - trying to clean up the vomit. Sometime after calling Jayme, maybe 3:45, I woke my sleeping husband and said, "honey, I think we're having a baby today" and continued bouncing.

I could never describe the feeling as painful. At the top of each contraction, there was a moment - I have no idea but maybe 20 seconds - where I could see why women want epidurals. But then that moment would fade and I was washed over with rushing warmth and euphoria, followed by an open sea of peace. And so I bounced and rested through these cycles.

I had been bouncing in my bathroom when I felt a subtle change, like a shift of pressure inside me and I told Peep to call the midwife. I talked with her on the phone and said I felt pressure and thought I needed to go to the hospital. She sat there through one of my moaning contractions and I said "that was a contraction". She told me to stay home and keep timing my contractions (I had not been). It felt wrong, but she was the expert. Peep started timing, though I was oblivious of him (they were in fact 2 to 3 minutes). Then I felt the urge to push and I realized with horror just how far along we were. I had been waiting for the pain to become unbearable - up to that point, it had been so nice - what I thought was the prologue had in fact been the whole play and here it was already the end and I was not at all ready!! Peep heard me say "I want to push" and flew into his own parallel panic. He readied things in the car (having only been himself awake 20 -30 minutes).

I called the midwife and said "I am coming now" (no matter what you say!) I managed to put some clothes on, while my water broke on the floor and I saw blood. The water breaking felt good - it felt like the release of pressure , satisfying like scratching an itch is satisfying. And I kept wanting to push, and I could feel the baby coming down and there I was still in my bathroom. Everything in my body and heart wanted me to stay right where I was and finish this - I couldn't go; I couldn't leave. And then my mind engaged and I took a look at my situation and laid out my choice: I could have the baby here, but did I want that? My husband would be panicked, this was not what we planned - we would be all alone. And I decided to try go to the hospital, even though I might not make it.

So I crawled/shuffled/pushed myself out of the house, with no shoes, and tumbled into the front seat of Peep's car, where I kneeled down with my back to the windshield and my arms around the headrest and he drove. I remembered that you can blow to prevent yourself from pushing, so I was blowing and blowing with every thing I had - but I felt the baby progressing anyway. After an eternity, we made it to the hospital doors and I felt so relieved. Peep drove straight to the entrance and said "Just wait here while I bring you a wheelchair" to which I replied through my breathing, "I'm not waiting" and stumbled out. Peep had my elbow and I was barely on my feet and we somehow managed to cover the hallways and finally I was where I was supposed to be. Peep went to move the car.

In seconds, I was on the bed with several nurses and my midwife, busying around me and gazing expectantly between my widespread legs. We were all ready, but now we were waiting for Peep- I was blowing and blowing - and then he came, and finally I was allowed to birth my baby. It was wonderful. It was like singing out my heart's desire to an adoring and admiring audience. I told everyone to be quiet and let me do my thing. A few pushes and he was out at 4:58 am: Perfect, plump, with big open peaceful blue eyes. The nurses told me I was on that bed less than 10 minutes.

And, all of a sudden, there were three

I married my One in April 2010 and found out about 1 month later that I was pregnant even though that wasn't supposed to be possible without surgery. I remember the day the strip turned pink - I dropped everything and drove to Peep and the next hours and days were nothing but testing and testing to confirm the impossible.

When I finally believed it, I was swimming in such a cocktail of feelings. I was in shock. I felt robbed of the time I thought I had to be me, to be young, to enjoy my new marriage. I also felt giddy with joy and so special. I felt a profound relief that I could in fact have children. And I was scared because I didn't know what I was doing.

In those days, a few things established themselves. One, this is our love child and we are so honored to be chosen and even though it was not our plan, we accept it. And, I was not in control of this, so, just in this part of my life, I stepped aside and into a new paradigm - that my life is the wave I am riding, not the path I am walking.

And, as I think do most young women who just find out they are pregnant and bow down to whatever force of power they can find, I frantically prayed for guidance, and got one simple answer: "Have me and I will be easy."

And then there was 9 months of pregnancy. For the first 3 months, I did not breathe a word. I was holding my breath for the miscarriage I was statistically likely to have. I lived life as usual, even throwing ourselves another wedding and going on a honeymoon. I was sick. So sick. Two pieces of advice for pregnant women: 1. Wait till your second trimester before going on your honeymoon. 2. Wait till your second trimester to remove your wisdom teeth.

All of those difficult weeks were in Estonia, the wrong place to be for a nauseous pregnant Texan who only wanted tacos and hates pork. But we survived, and Peep was so caring and patient. At 13 weeks, we found out the baby was fine and would probably stick. We also heard he would be a boy. Then, I told my family and I believed it.

And the remaining months, he was right. He was easy. Pregnancy did some wonderful things for me.

1. No stress. Somehow, my whole being knew. It was like I grounded myself into my pregnancy so that not only did I eat the things that would be good for the baby, I thought and felt things that would be good for the baby. All of a sudden, I had an off switch for the stress and it was automatic. I didn't try or focus or commit or anything like that - just 15 seconds feeling stressed out and then the mind/body would like stop bloodflow to that bit of my brain and I would be happy again. I also never got mad at my husband. I was always nice.

2. My skin cleared up. I have since the age of 12 had a bit of a battle with my body over being a woman - like somehow not all of me was on board and we were a bit out of sync, causing me suffering in all kinds of ways. Pregnancy cured me.

3. I was forced to take care of myself. For reasons that I analyze and trace back to ancient bits of my life, I habitually prioritize myself and my well being last. I, like many, have lived under the self-imposed dictum that the more I suffer, the more virtuous I am and walk around making my life as difficult as possible and then bragging to others in complaining tones how little sleep I get and when my last meal was and what a heavy thing I carried, etc etc. So pregnancy rescued me from that. Now, to be virtuous, I HAD to take care of myself. And what a relief, to be pulled away from the selfishness of selflessness.

4. It made my take the short path. There are two kinds of people and I am the kind that does things the long, hard, complicated way. Perfectionist for its own sake and often to a fault. A few friends coming over might turn into me cooking a 5 course meal and inventing a new cocktail and buying more furniture. But pregnant, I had no extra energy to waste and my thoughts changed to take that into account: remove me from my tunnel of vision and ask the question - does the energy I put in really affect the result?

The Jewelry Business

I started a jewelry business a few months ago. It is intended to be a way for me to use my particular gemstone knowledge to create a bit of cashflow.

I read a book a few months ago which seems to have possibly changed my life: Ready, Fire, Aim by Michael Masterson. I am the type who is thorough, thoughtful and 100% sure it is right before I act. In the book, this author encourages me to act first and refine later. So that is what I am doing with this business. My experiences so far are proving him right. I am a guerilla: I go to any little fair that will accept my booth: flea markets, art shows, gem and mineral shows, highschool band fundraisers, christmas fairs, mardi gras, even Harley Davidson races. I go to tiny towns and big cities. I will do jewelry parties. I have a website and an SEO guru helping me invade the internet.

I am learning a lot. I have sold over 300 peices of jewelry to that many people and I have had 5 times as many conversations with them one-on-one, spanning every demographic. This has given me insights into human beings, what they want from jewelry ranging from the emotional to fashion to mechanics. I have 3 more unique jewelry brands in the pipelines that I have created based on the information I have collected.

Here is a taste:

Death in a Flood

The place in the Comarca of Panama that has been so special to me, where I volunteered and where the bags come from, has been ravaged by a flood. A big river runs through these communities, fed by mountain rain runoffs. It used to be a great source of pride. These last weeks, it brought only death and destruction.

I know and love the community generally, but in my time there I also formed a few individual friendships. One of my friends was Plinio. I read in an email a few days ago that Plinio is dead, washed away by the flood.

I am sad. I am shocked. I disbelieve. I wake up happy in the morning thinking it was a bad dream. There are a few things to say about the death of Plinio, now a part of my life.

No one knows Plinio in my community. There are a lot of people in Austin, where I am now, with whom I am as close as I was with Plinio. If I was to lose anyone of them, I would feel others around me grieving. We could talk about it, hug each other, go to the funeral. Almost no one who knows me knows that my friend has died. I want to tell them, but they would just feel sad and scared - they don't know Plinio.

My friends who also know Plinio, the Ngobe people who live in the comarca, are devasted beyond anything any of you can imagine. Medo, the organization founded by Plinio's brother, my shining leader friend Adan, of which Plinio was also a member, has worked diligently creating miracles, bringing in talent, support and money from more developed places and slowly, with great vision hope and promise, developing the poor communities of the Comarca.

We in rich cement cities can't understand what the destruction of infrustructure means to poor isolated places. All that work, all that hopeful development - so much of it washed away. Who knows how many years, or decades, it will take to get it back. Entire communities are isolated from schools and medical help by impassable rivers that used to have bridges.


The one everyone is relying on - the Ngobe, though they might not know it, and the westerners who want to help -that person is Adan Bejerano Rios, the brother of Plinio. I am always cc-d on Adan's Medo related correspondence, sometimes I translate for him, and I have to say, this is my biggest heartbreak. Someone so good, who has worked so hard with such integrity and generosity, had his BROTHER, who he loved so much, washed away in a flood, his home washed away and his life's work set back. He's still working. He's coordinating the distribution of relief money and supplies. He's getting people temporary shelter. He is asking his outsider contacts for help. He didn't deserve this. Everyone who's ever worked with Adan wants to help him -he's that kind of an inspiration. We want to lighten his load. I feel so helpless. He's been hurt so irreparably.

I don't have many people who've died. Mostly they have been elderly relatives. I can't say I was prepared but I did know they would die in my lifetime. Plinio wasn't that much older than me.

He died by being washed away in a flood? He must have been so scared... I didn't want my friend to die in a flood.

Plinio was a special character, a kind of serial entrepreneur. He started the Ngobe botanical garden and got a bunch of German and Austrian scientists supporting him. He even got to visit Austria's botanical gardens. He visited Gardens in Costa Rica and was about to study in the USA. This set him apart in his community. He and Adan are the only members of their community who've ever been to other countries. Few have even visited bigger cities in Panama.

When I last saw him, he was telling him about his men's coffee growing cooperative, brought me to a meeting, discussed marketing, and sold me two bags of his finest. He was ambitious, involved in lots of things, eager for his big break, struggling to find ways for his work and interests to earn him money. He was not married but he had a girlfriend. He just always seemed to be so eager for his great future, when he would be wealthy, well traveled, owner of a respectable botanical garden, owner of a house with a family.

He was also humble and respectful. He had a great mind, taking joy in discoveries. He had a bigger vision of plants and culture and ecosystems. Anyone who's ever been to a really poor rural place in a developing country should appreciate the kind of person who is from there and poor also, but wants to preserve and educate people about native plants, because it's right and important.

So this takes me to my next thought: I live my life on the assumption that I will live to be 80, that I am exploring now, trying to raise money, soon I will buy a house, then I will have a family, then I will be a leader in a field or in a community and change the world. But that is not something that is, in fact, necessarily the case. I can't know when the flood will wash me away. I feel like I am working towards something. Like this moment is not life - like it is preparation for what's coming. But that is not the truth. This moment is life. It is folly to lend my current happiness on credit to the "greater worthiness" of the future.

In my culture, we see people who live life for the present and we judge "irresponsible". If I rent a $1200 apartment that I think is beautiful, without saving for the future, or trying to buy a house, etc, I am judged badly. I should scrimp and save and suffer for a few years to "build my future". If I want to have a family-husband, kids- I should wait, put it off, keep wanting it but not having it, until I have enough money to be sure I can support them. These are the values of my culture.

I don't know when the flood is coming for me. I remember parts of my past, I can conjure them clearly, but there is no sense of chronology. It is just snapshots of different incarnations of me in worlds of their own unique hues and smells. And as far as my honest experience of life, there is no future. I have no EXPERIENCE of the future. So it seems to me there is no time. There are just many different tiny experiences of "now".

I don't know if this mentality will be mine to carry forever, or if it is a natural part of the sudden shocking loss of a peer, and will eventually dissolve. But these days, "Now" is the only thing that matters to me.

I wish there was some way for me to grieve for Plinio. I can see his face in my memory, but I haven't found any photos, even. I think this is one of the reasons humans live in groups - to help each other grieve. It's so disorienting, because the fact is, my daily life is not changed by the absence of Plinio. I would not even have to face the truth of it until I go back to Soloy.

Going back to Soloy... I was going to go in October. I don't know now if I am welcome. I don't know if it would be a good time, in that I could bring aid and help, or a bad time in that there would be no place to stay, no one to host me, no clean water and perhaps embarassment to show the destruction to an outsider.

Here is the project I worked on with Plinio, the website for his botanical garden. I see it now and I notice so many little flaws. But he was grateful and proud of it. soloy. pueblerino.info

Here is the blog post about my first meeting with the Ngobe, Adan and Plinio: http://sarahsight.blogspot.com/2007/10/week-in-another-world.html

EDIT: I just searched the Panamanian newspapers. I learned that Plinio was pulled away while trying to rescue an 8 year old girl. He was missing. Then they found his body. The girl died too. I could not imagine Plinio watching one of his village girls drowning and not try to help. But I just wish...

RE-EDIT: I got an email from a friend telling the story of a peace corp friend who is part of this community and is there helping to rebuild. The Panamanian newspaper got it wrong. He said that Plinio was saving children who were trapped inside a wooden house during the flood. He saved several of the older children, making trips back and fourth. He went back for the 8 month old baby, and the house collapsed on top of them. He was carried away in the flood inside the house, being trapped beneath it, and could not struggle out.

You can't win when you're the only one playing

In my young life, I've watched politicians battle with words from behind podiums in their ambitions for power, like the aim of the words is not to express what's inside of them, but rather to be the strategically most advantageous thing to say. Seeing a "debate" is like watching a game of ping pong -"oooh, nice shot! I think he's winning."

So now look what's happened. Someone's standing behind the podium, seemingly speaking from the heart. Those ping pong balls whizz by his concerned, inspired face unheaded. Which leaves the rest of the world to turn and ask of the other, "WHY did you throw that ball at him?"

So please, give it your best shot. Every attack you make will just backfire, like in this:

McCain's attack on Obama using Paris Hilton: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2c0vctCfhH8
And once again, young pop-culture America comes to bat for Obama:
Paris Hilton's response: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/64ad536a6d

Any politician who wants to win against Obama will need to meet him on his own higher, more authentic, playing field.

The Coolest Online Test

Have I mentioned this yet?

There is a new online test that will tell you which gemstone is perfect for you. People are generally acquainted with their birthstones, and the tendency to want to own jewelry with one's birthstone is a testament to the fact that humans are interested in gemstones that are in some way "destined" to them.

But, well, birthstone is a little simple... how much can you really have in common with the millions of other people who were born in your month.

So for finding out which gemstone is "for you", it is best to take into account all relevant factors about yourself and the gemstones.

You could do a few months of dedicated research. Or you could take this free online test. It tells you which gemstone is best for you based on birthstone, astrological sign, health conditions, personality traits, values and what you wish to attract to your life. Once you know your gemstone, show it off!

What's yours?

http://www.shopgemstones.com/gemstonetest.html

The hard choice

"The life of a fetus cannot be separated from the life of the pregnant woman. This is unique in medicine and law. No one can create a set of medical principles or legal principles giving a right to life to the fetus, because by doing so, inevitably the woman's rights become limited." -http://www.fwhc.org/abortion/medical-ab.htm

The life of a young woman always contains this issue, whether she herself goes through it, the girls she knows go through it, or it's a topic of her debate class.

I am counting... I personally know 8 girls, growing up around me who've had to make the choice between raising a child against impossible odds or causing themselves the most pain they've ever felt by deliberately discarding something they love.

And I know at least 6 women who are grey haired and wrinkled from fully lived lives, and after 30 years, multiple children, houses and careers, none has ever lost consciousness of the one they gave up. There are no regrets, just a subtle pain - one of their battle scars.

Blessings to all women who have had to make that choice.

Eesti Maa

"I don't think most Americans even know where Estonia is," say the two loud Americans next to me in this little cafe- very proud of themselves of being special world travelers.

I have been in this country for 2 weeks and now I find myself in what I think is my favorite place: the old town of Tallinn.

Most of my time here has been spent in Tartu in the home in which Peep grew up. His house is full of lots of love, and pets and food. His mom is very sweet. She makes us coffee and breakfast when we get up. And she has a way of not judging anything. In America, it is normal to at least make some kind of comment if someone sleeps until noon, or has really messy hair, or is wearing two different socks. When I was first dating Peep, I was suspicious of him because he never made comments about such things and I thought he was thinking it to himself and not saying anything. As time went on, I was happily mystified that he doesn't care about and doesn't even notice stuff like that. After living with his mom, I know where he got it.

And amazingly, in this context, I become the anal, uptight one. In my own cultural context, I am the laid back messy one who doesn't notice undotted i's. But I discovered it bothers me if someone has food on their lip, or if there is dog hair on the bed and I have to say something or take action. And then I notice the role that I am playing in the group and I smile to myself at the irony. It is so amusing for me to see myself reflected in this way.


And the second biggest element from my experience is the cultural immersion. I thought that, having lived around the world, that I was an experienced veteran in cultural immersion and that it has been easier to adjust to new cultures because of my experience -NOT! I am having as hard core an experience as I had in Germany at 16. The factors the two experiences have in common are:

Living in a local home with a family: there is no chance to "escape back into my bubble". There is no socializing with other travelers or expats as there was everywhere else except for Germany.
Blending in! In Dubai, Thailand and Panama, I am so obviously a foreigner that even if I speak the language and live there for a year (or 30), I will still be treated as a tourist. In Germany and in Estonia, I am assumed to be local and am treated the same as everyone else. (I prefer it that way).
Learning the language: Both in Germany and now in Estonia, I am working pretty hard to learn the language and defying the odds with my progress.

In Panama, some of our best friends were Fito (Panamanian) and Bozena (Polish). When Bozena was talking to new people, they would at first treat her as a foreigner. After they found out she was married to a Panamanian, it was like she entered a new warm arena of the person's heart: She has made a commitment to Panama, she's one of us. The other white girl standing next to her, I would watch these interactions a bit wistfully - I wished I could be a part of another country too.

So that's what it's like to be in Estonia on the arm of Peep. I get VIP access - experiences and relationships that would be outside of my possibilities if I were just visiting or living here as an expat.

Partnerships are always powerful: two minds are better than one, you get to add up all your lessons and both become twice as smart, you broaden your family (besides all the love and support and friendship). But this experience goes beyond: I get to belong to two countries!

The First Time

I just gave a politician money for the first time in my life.

I don't believe in politics. Like most people from my generation, I am trying to make a difference doing other things... politics doesn't notice me, doesn't listen.

I am so excited about THIS president, though. Finally, a president is running for president. Not only am I excited about him, I am just soo excited that I'm excited. I feel hope in places inside me I didn't even know could hope.

So I gave him $20. which as a percentage of my net wealth, is quite high.

I don't really know why they need money or what they will do with it. But something I HAVE always believed in is capitalism. I have always felt that I can put my money where my mouth is and then the money makes a difference even if the mouth doesn't. So one more person gave Barack Obama money.

Here's a link if you want to do the same:
https://pol.moveon.org/give/obama2.html?id=12777-6950240-fhLmlq&t=3