Everyday Yogini

The beginning of the second chapter is sharply delineated for me by a particular run, on a particular day.  I remember this so clearly, it still strikes me odd.  Erick and Clara were riding the bike and I was running- a long run that day, 12 miles.  We were going to meet at a park six miles up the trail, play a bit, and then come back.   It was a gorgeous day.  I had found myself really loving the D.C. area, in particular, the area where we lived in Arlington.  Very walking and biking-friendly, pretty good food choices, a Whole Foods and Trader Joes close by, good schools, good playgrounds…  but anyway, I was almost to the park that we were going to meet at and I was so happy!  The day was perfect, really.  As I approached the park, I remember thinking I wanted to remember this feeling and the day- the sky, the other people, seeing Clara and Erick playing, waiting for me to arrive.  Then the thought popped into my head that this was the last long run I was going to have.  

And it has been so.

I don’t remember exactly what happened or how it came to pass.  The pain arrived at some point, and didn’t leave.  It was horrible and scary.  My entire torso hurt at this point.  Wearing pants hurt, picking Clara up and carrying her on my right side hurt- as if my liver were swollen.   I felt like I wasn’t digesting food and I was often nauseated. Then, to top it all off, I started having panic attacks.  This period of time is cloudy and dark for me.  I was trying so desperately to keep it all together- mostly for Clara- but really, I wasn’t even there.  I was submerged in the pain and anxiety. 

The doctors were of little use.  Although my primary care doctor was nice, she would give me referrals and tell me to have tests done quickly, but it would take weeks, if not months, to get scheduled for tests.  Radio-isotope tests, CAT scans, sonograms, blood work… nothing looked terribly wrong.  When I finally got in to see the GI doctor at Walter Reed, I wasn’t even allowed to see a doctor, I was sent to an assistant, who then talked to the doctor about my case.  The question they always asked was, “Did you get blood work done at the ER during an acute pain episode?”  No.  I dislike going to the ER and Erick was skeptical, since I was having panic attacks, he thought it was all emotionally driven.   

I was so frustrated and angry, and felt like I had zero control over anything.  I was still showing up and going to my classes and doing what I was supposed to be doing, but the pain was constant, so it’s all rather blurry.  I don’t think I can even convey how bleak everything seemed at this time.  In addition to my own pain, I started getting paranoid about Clara’s health, which just added to my angst and panic.   After three or four months of this, finally, my primary care physician put me on Tagamet,  after I suggested it could be ulcers.   The Tagamet helped with the nausea, which was a blessed relief, to be sure.  Erick left for a month during this time, and I began to do some serious soul searching, as well as serious self-care (which, obviously, I needed).  

Of course during this whole time, I was doing massive amounts of research on the internet.  This was good and bad.  Given my state of mind, it was a bad thing, because it fueled my anxiety.  On the other hand, I felt informed when I would go and talk to the doctors, which was good.   However, when Erick left, I went on a self-imposed no-internet-search policy and also started talking to some people.  Up to this time, I had mainly tried to keep the whole thing under wraps- why?  I have no idea.  But first on my list of people to talk to was a beloved co-housing neighbor who always had sage advice for me.  

I called her up one day and barely got a word out before I started sobbing everything out: the pain, the grief, the panic, the fear, the anger…  Being who she is, she was completely calm and accepting and also gave me wise advice.  She told me that grief and fear morph into illness in our bodies.  As a Yoga instructor, this made intuitive sense to me.  The next part of her advice was some good medicine, Yoginis.  She told me to cry as hard as I could, screaming into a pillow for 10 minutes a day, twice a day, telling me I had to get that toxic stuff out.  In fact, she had me hang up the phone and go have my first “session” and told me to call her back.   I insisted I couldn’t do it then because Clara was home with me and she gently explained to me that it would be good for Clara to see her Mama processing painful emotions, instead of pretending that everything is okay.

I couldn’t really argue with that, and hung up the phone.  I explained to Clara what I was going to do and why I was sad and she sat with me, and wiped my eyes periodically.  Eventually, she grew bored, gave me a hug and wandered off to play. After that first cry, I knew I was on the path of healing.  I called Pat back and we had a great talk- we set up phone dates to check in every few days while I was doing my “cry therapy” during the next two weeks.  As a side note, still now, when I am cranky, Clara will ask me if I need to have a good cry.  

Next I enlisted the advice of my friend  Monica, who is a health counselor. She loaned me books about digestion and I went on a quest to find the supplements that might help me feel better. I will not go into that here, but I will say Monica was a great resource for me and helped me find my way on the path of nutrition and supplements for digestive disorders. Suffice it to say, I take supplements and I think they are an important component in any healing regime, however, mine are specific to my particular condition, so it wouldn’t be so useful to give a list here. If you want to know what supplements I take, contact me and I will give you the run down.

I also seriously re-engaged with my Yoga practice at this time. I would get on the mat and it felt like a prayer from my body to the Universe. It was a blessed relief to get on the mat. It was my sacred place, my touchstone. Out of this passionate reconnection with my body and my Yoga practice came serious brainstorming about MY future not as my husband’s wife, but as a stand-alone, vibrant, creative woman. Hence, Everyday Yogini was born.

On a search for serious self-care, I also decided to get some massage (also on my neighbor’s recommendation). On a whim, I decided to have acupuncture instead of a massage and this, Yoginis, was a critical turning point. So, to recap, I was processing my emotional baggage, I had recommitted to a Yoga and meditation practice, I began a tailored regime of supplements, and I was defining my new place in the world according to my wishes and desires- working all three dimensions: body, mind, and spirit. But this wasn’t enough in and of itself, because my body was sick and in pain. The clinic I went to was fabulous. And the acupuncturist, Kate, was wonderful! I expected to go one time, but I saw her twice a week for a month, and then dropped to once a week until we left the country.

Within three weeks of starting acupuncture, I was pain-free and off of the Tagamet. It was amazing. By the time we left the country, I felt strong and full of gratitude. I was ready. I was excited to get to Rome and settle into our new life. I felt like I had overcome an enormous hurdle and was ready to take my new depth of self-knowledge with me to Rome. So I walked away from the pain, feeling confident I had seen the last of it.

But this was not to be so.

Any good story should have a dramatic entrance. My story is ushered in by the birth of Clara. One of the happiest days of my life, to be sure. Shortly after she arrived, I began having terrible attacks of pain in the middle of the night. Radiating, sharp pain underneath my ribcage, to the right. I will blame sleep deprivation and nursing-brain on the fact that I did not seek medical care for this right away. In fact, I didn’t even think about it being a real problem until I had some blood work done four months post-partum and my liver enzymes were off a bit. My doctor was unconcerned about the enzymes, but I put the pieces together and told her I thought it might be my gallbladder (my Father had recently had his removed and I was familiar with his symptoms). One sonogram later, I was informed my gallbladder was full of stones. A few weeks after that, I was gallbladder-free and back to sleepless nights of nursing instead of sleepless nights of pain and nursing.

But of course, the story doesn’t end there.

Periodically, over the next two years, I would get similar shooting pains in the exact same place. Often when exercising, it would feel like a stitch in my side, but always right in that same spot. At the time, it was just a vague annoyance and would come and go rather quickly. I was too busy chasing after Clara to pay too much attention, frankly. I just chalked it up to a post-surgery quirk that would eventually fade into memory. But, I was “doing” all the right things: eating well, exercising, and practicing “small-child-in-the house-Yoga” which means five minutes of dedicated time on the Yoga mat is a miracle. And, along with doing all the right things, I was happy. Really, really, happy.

During this period, we were living in Colorado, in a co-housing community that I simply love (in fact, we still own our home there and plan, someday, to return). I made some wonderful friends in Colorado- more so than at any other time in my life. Really. Growing up in a military family, we moved a lot and well, we weren’t the highest of functioning families, so making friends and keeping them was a skill that I didn’t really learn. I was so happy to be living in community, but to be honest, I complained a lot (a terrible habit).  In any case, marrying a military man, I knew we would leave again, but I was dreading it. As in, deep-down, despairing kind of dread.

When the news came down that we were, in fact, moving, and it would be two quick moves in succession- first to D.C. for 7 months of training and then onto Rome for three years, outwardly, I was ecstatic. “Rome? Of course I can’t wait to move to Italy, everyone! This is the greatest thing EVER!!!” Inwardly, I was grief-stricken to be leaving the place Clara was born, and the community that I love so much. I didn’t WANT to go to D.C. or Rome. And I was scared… scared of what was coming and a more than a little pissed that my future seemed to be completely outside of my control.

The logistics of moving and getting settled in to our life in D.C. kept me occupied and busy enough to ignore all of this emotional darkness for a while. But the perfect storm was brewing in my body with the assistance of the tension, grief, fear, and anger that I was suppressing. In addition to all of this, I had completed the Portland Marathon (I walked it with my Mom) before moving, and had become inspired to become a runner. I began aggressively training for a marathon, doing long-distance running in which the pain in my side would be with me the entire run and after. 

But, I ignored it, just as I was ignoring the incredible swell of emotions that was barely below the surface.  

Today I am excitedly preparing for a cocktail party for all the parents in Clara’s kindergarden class (that is what they call preschool in the British system).  We are having it catered, because I’m not a glutton for punishment, but I decided last minute that I wanted a little “dolce” to see people off this evening.  The catered had already shopped, and having this idea of a sweet treat at the end of hors d’oeuvres,  I decided to make the cake I asked him to make: Citrus-Almond Cake.  

Well, I’m here to tell you, this is a solid winner. And easy, to boot. It does take time, but if you are puttering around the house, this is a perfect cake to whip up for any occasion. In fact, I was thinking this recipe would make delicious little Christmas cakes made with Mandarins, Tangerines, etc… any citrus fruit would be great. I used all lemons, and it is fabulous!

Citrus-Almond Cake
3 large oranges (or any citrus fruit to reach about a pound)
500g white sugar
6 large eggs
500g Almond meal (I know Bob’s Red Mill has a nice one)

-Boil a large pot of water, add whole citrus fruit and simmer for 1 hour.

-Strain off water and allow the fruit to cool slightly.

-As fruit cooks, food process eggs and sugar together.

-Slice fruit in half and de-seed. Throw fruit, rind and all, into food processor and process until smooth.

-Mix almond meal and fruit mixture thoroughly into eggs and sugar.

-Pour into parchment lined 24-26 cm round springform cake pan and bake at 375 degrees for 50-60 minutes.

I doubled the recipe and and cooked in a large, square pyrex baking dish (lined with parchment) and it came out perfectly. Enjoy your weekend, everyone.

I have resisted writing about the ongoing, physical pain that I’ve dealt with (although I have, on occassion).  Let’s face it, in our culture, pain, illness, and old-age are all pushed away and ignored.  I know I have certainly been guilty of mentally and emotionally (even physically!) checking out from the reality of pain and suffering in those around me.  But, the fact is, no-one escapes this life without illness, pain of some kind, or, at the very least, death.  And, after a year and a half of learning to co-habitate with pain, I feel like I might be able to offer some hope, some practical ideas for living with chronic pain, or, at the least, someone might feel comfort in reading my story.  So,  however long it might take, I am going to share the full, unabridged story (as I remember it) and also the meandering path of healing that I have taken to arrive here, today. 

Because today, I feel good.  In fact, most days I feel good now.  I feel pain, but, it doesn’t consume my thoughts in a panicky, “What is wrong with me make it go away” sort of way.  To me, this is the essence of healing (quite different from “a cure”)- accepting life exactly as it is in the moment.  This doesn’t mean giving up, this doesn’t mean not researching, asking questions, and looking for alternatives.  This also doesn’t preclude hope and faith in a future that might be pain and illness-free.  However, what it does mean is a shift in perception- to acceptance, and also to treating this companion of pain as just that- a companion capable of teaching important lessons and offering great blessings to life.

So stay tuned, if you are so inclined.    

Clara likes to take my face in her hands- to get my attention, to give me a kiss, to tell me important things.  Sometimes, when I am distracted or talking with another adult, it bothers me.  Other times, I think it is the dearest thing and I wonder how long she will persist with this habit.  

One night, as I was watching her sleep (as we parents often do, no?) I noticed her hands and I was just overcome with how amazing they are- how they keep us connected to each other in so many ways.  I don’t claim to be a poet, but that night, I wrote the following poem for Clara, and those little hands. 

Little Hands 

Little hands,
Tucked neatly underneath
Your sleeping chin.

Little hands
Reach eagerly toward
My face, eyes shining.

Little hands,
Turn magnetic letters
into words- WORDS!

Little hands,
Wrap fingers tightly
Into mine.

Little hands
Grow so much bigger,
Doing so much more.

Little hands,
Hold forever
My humble heart.

-Nona Jordan 08/08

Yoginis.  I have so many things to post about, and very little time- even less energy.   

I am enjoying my job and the very busy Fall season here in Rome, but by the time I sit down to write, I am simply unable to get a coherent thought out!  I am working on making a blog date with myself on a weekly basis to sit down and write a post, so please bear with me as I get my life organized around work, Clara’s school schedule, our social calendar, not to mention the time I need to refresh with exercise, Yoga and meditation.   

Speaking of, I have a precious bit of time to myself this morning to go for a run in the park.  I will be back sooner than later- in the meantime, if you are so inclined, I just signed an online petition this morning for the next President (whomever that may be) to create a “First Garden” on the White House lawn.  Apparently, this has been done in the past, depending on the times, and I love the idea of the White House setting this kind of example for our nation.   

Yes, it’s true.  For all of my disbelieving friends in Colorado who witnessed my enthusiasm when I bought the supplies TWO years ago, I put this project to bed today.  Finally.  And I have the pictures to prove it.

Unfortunately, my success has brought more projects to add to my list. Clara has asked for:

1. Purple and pink dresses for dolly
2. Wings for dolly (any suggestions, crafty Yoginis?)
3. A blue pony for dolly (like we don’t have enough ponies, huh??)

Rain has arrived here in Rome, so it was a good day to finish this project. I’ve been dreading putting the hair on the doll. I finished the body and head of the doll about a month ago, but the hair was the most difficult part. I am so happy to have it finished! For the moment, Clara is carrying it around, but, even if it is shoved off into a corner, I will put it away and save it so she can have it when she is older and can appreciate that her Mom made her a special dolly… who knows? Maybe a future granddaughter will get to play with it.

A while back, I signed up to get “Notes from the Universe” delivered to my inbox every day.  I have found that I look forward to reading these little notes each morning- they always makes me smile, and often give me pause. I particularly liked what I read this morning.

I have struggled, for what seems like forever, with the question, “What is it that I can do in this world that will bring me happiness?” And, I can say with every ounce of my being, that this little note from the Universe has been true for me. The times in my life that have been most filled with joy, most fullfilling, have been those times when I have just taken up with what is in front of me. Needless to say, reading this this morning made my lack of that “ONE THING THAT IS MY CALLING” feel okay and, maybe, maybe even better than okay…

For those who ponder and wonder and wrestle with the idea of what it is they really want, I have an answer that each would wholeheartedly agree with: “HAPPINESS.”

“And I’d add, “Trust me.”
Tallyho,     
The Universe

Get your own “Notes from the Universe delivered to your inbox- sign up here. You won’t regret it, but, if you do, you can always cancel the subscription!!

It’s not breaking news that our national budget is a disaster.  Our next President has the great responsibility of figuring out what the way ahead is for our nation, with a huge deficit to contend with right off the bat. American Public Radio has created the online game Budget Hero so you can see how the decisions you believe in would impact our nation.

I encourage everyone to go and play the game. It’s fun, and, you can pick your candidate (Obama or McCain) and see how your budget choices line up with your candidate and your values.

Go play and then let me know if you are a “Budget Hero”!

South of the Austrian border by about 40 miles, nestled in the Pustertal Valley of the Alps, is the inspired vacation location that we visited.  Although Hotel Lido Ehrenburgerhof is on the Italian side of the Alps, let me tell you there is very little Italian happening there. In this part of Italy, you are really in Austria. Everyone speaks German and everything is clean, beautiful, and orderly. However, being very intelligent, the folks that live in this area- and the hotel we stayed in- have a tradition of fantastic food. So, the best of both worlds, yes?

Our room was comfortable and gorgeous. Simple, but elegant. Just like the hotel. And anything you might need? The hotel had it. The hotel has a mini-club (free, indoor childcare from 9am to 9pm everyday) and a great indoor play area. We tried to drop Clara there one day and she was NOT having a bit of it. So, we did not have any Mommy and Daddy time, which was a little annoying, but in the end, it was great. We had a fabulous time together. And maybe next year, Clara will be excited to practice her German with the other kids, but I digress…

In the mornings, while the dew was still fresh on the grass, I would sneak out to the Japanese garden for some Yoga while the sun came up over the mountains. On my return to the room, Erick and Clara would be ready to hit the breakfast buffet, that consisted of fresh breads, granola, fruits, prosciutto, cheeses, not to mention the omelette bar (made fresh to order) and hot sausage.

After rolling ourselves out of the dining room, Erick would get ready to go on a bike ride in the mountains. I would start out with him, on a bike I checked out from the hotel, with a child’s seat on the back. There is a bike/walking trail that runs the length of the valley, near the train tracks, next to the river. Clara loved whizzing down the mountains and seeing the farms, mountains, and animals.

Unbelievably enough, after a brief morning outing, it would be time for, what they referred to as a “light buffet lunch”. A huge, organic salad bar, with more fresh bread, and, don’t forget the four different kinds of pasta with sauce and a hot soup… after this “light lunch”, we were all stuffed to the gills and ready for some playtime!

The playground of the resort was amazing and honestly, I think Erick and I enjoyed it more than Clara! But Clara did love the pools- indoor, outdoor, a tepid “bubble tub” and a baby pool… every day, during pool time, I again would sneak away, but this time, heading for the sauna. Oh god, how I love saunas. And the resort has all the right stuff for the full sauna experience! The cold river water to dump over your head, an outdoor area to rest. Ahhhhh.

By the time we finished up with the pool and the sauna, it was time for a nap. Dinner was late: 7:30. So, we would take a little rest and then head out for more playtime or a walk before dinner.

Dinner, too, was a huge affair. And nothing could be passed up. It was all fabulous. Fish, chicken, beef, vegetables, fruits, desserts. I should mention here that the hotel completely accommodated my need for dairy and gluten-free foods and they didn’t shlep it, either. My food was prepared with just as much care and attention as Erick and Clara’s…

We would stumble back to our rooms and fall into a deep, food-induced sleep, sleep in silence while the cool, mountain air drifted in the open window just to wake up and do it all over again the next day.

It was divine.

This area, the Sud Tyrol, is the most beautiful place I have ever visited in my entire life. Now, granted, I am from the Northwest, so I prefer a cooler, greener climate, but the architecture is amazing, the valley is full of industry and is obviously growing, but it doesn’t compromise the environment, there was NOT A SPECK OF GARBAGE to be found on the side of the road or in the waterways, and, from the bottom of the mountains, you could not see the roads and trails- just gorgeous forests…

This will not be our last trip to Hotel Lido Ehrenburghof or to that area. Erick and I are drawing up a plan to buy some sort of property in that area at some point. THAT is how much we loved it. I have never been to an area that resonates with me more and I’m excited to explore the possibilities for a future there, as well as relax and renew at the resort in the meantime!

For our family pictures, head over to Flickr.