If I change my posture, will it change my life?

My body tells me I've been slouching too much lately: aching thoracic back, tension where my neck joins my head, compression in my belly, rapid and shallow breath, tightness in my buttocks and hamstrings. It's a slippery slope, this slouching thing. It starts out slow, and then suddenly I'm scooped down looking like the 'Before' picture below.

During my yoga practices of late, I've contemplated attempting the anti-slouch. Basically, every time I notice that I'm slouching (while standing, sitting, walking, breastfeeding, etc.), I will rise up to the occasion and grow long. That's it. I just raise everything a little bit like an imaginary string from the top of my head is being pulled taught. It's amazing how quickly that shift makes me feel better.

So, I'm wondering if I change my posture, will it change my life? Will I guard my heart less, be open to new adventures, breath more deeply, reach into the depths of my being and come out with confidence, openness, and lightness? Will I release some of my grip on fear and move ahead with some of my ideas and ventures? Will I let go of the slouch and allow my body to relax into the balanced, strong, flexible being that I naturally want to be? Ooooh, it sounds so juicy, I am eager to give this a try!

This reminds me of a wonderful catch phrase in yoga, "Get grounded, grow long." Thanks Brahmani and Jashoda!

Fill 'er up!

This is the quinoa plant... Yum.
Photo: unmomentonordico.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-is-quinoa.html

 

 

 

 

For a little guy who decided he would like to wait until nearly one full year before transitioning from all-milk-all-the-time to a bit of solid food here and there, he's sure picking up the brownie points from us in the department known as "What He Will Eat".

Little Bean's a big fan of the homemade apple sauce (our main go-to for the quick and dirty meal). He'll also down bananas and apples and the odd Nutrio (a cheerio without all the salt and sugar = tastes like cardboard) and some other random veggies and fruits.

Here's the exciting part: Now we can add quinoa to the list! He's currently gobbling it up with his own fingers. I thought it would be too much like rice (which he won't currently eat), but I guess it's that nutty flavour that he can't resist!

But can he use chopsticks to eat this quinoa? This has yet to be determined. I'm guessing he'll inherit his mama's ambidextrous and super-dexterous appendages and he'll win the state champs one day. (Note: If there isn't a state championship on chopstick quinoa eating, there should be).

On the food front, he's also a fan of black beans (whole), garbanzo beans (whole), and lentils. He's beefin' up on the protein in anticipation of walking soon.

Using the words of Little Bean, "Boom!"

Song For You

A warm and generous 'thank you' to Alexi Murdoch for so eloquently putting into words how I feel sometimes. The lyrics to "Song For You" swirl within me and relate in many ways to this past year.

So today I wrote a song for you
Cause a day can get so long
And I know its hard to make it through
When you say there's something wrong

So I'm trying to put it right
Cause I want to love you with my heart
All this trying has made me tight
And I don't know even where to start

Maybe that's a start

Cause you know its a simple game
That you play filling up your head with rain
And you know you are hiding from your pain
In the way, in the way you say your name

And I see you
Hiding your face in your hands
Flying so you won't land
You think no one understands
No one understands

So you hunch your shoulders and you shake your head
And your throat is aching but you swear
No one hurts you, nothing could be sad
Anyway you're not here enough to care

And you're so tired you don't sleep at night
As your heart is trying to mend
You keep it quiet but you think you might
Disappear before the end

And it's strange that you cannot find
Any strength to even try
To find a voice to speak your mind
When you do, all you wanna do is cry

Well maybe you should cry

And I see you hiding your face in your hands
Talking bout far-away lands
You think no one understands
Listen to my hands

And all of this life
Moves around you
For all that you claim
You're standing still
You are moving too
You are moving too
You are moving too
I will move you

Time for Celebration, or Release?

A dear friend of mine asked me if the coming of Little Bean's birthday has brought on any memories or feelings about how he came into this world one year ago.

At first, I thought, "Nah, it's not really on my mind." And then a few days later, I thought, "Well, that was a pretty intense time. There must be some kind of release that has happened over the past year. It's not like I can forget what happened, even though sometimes I wish I could."

It's not like my body has forgotten, that's for sure, with some lingering issues in the downstairs department. Like, for instance, today I purchased the equivalent of "Tucks Medicated Pads". If you don't know what that's for, then you should celebrate your naivety.

My experience of Little Bean's week-long entrance to this world is remembered differently by body part.

My mind remembers in vivid images, going through contractions in our temporary suite, taking walks in the rain, watching my poor puppy look at me with helpless eyes, and seeing my hospital room at night with scenes like the one where I look around and see Papa Bean, my doula, and my mom all sleeping in chairs or on the floor. Then some scenes pop to mind regarding the intensity and ridiculous duration of the situation I was in and the level of exhaustion I experienced. It felt a little bit unreal. A little bit like my mind was watching all this happen from outside my body. Like it needed to be outside of it all to be able to survive.

If you were to ask my abdomen about that time, it would say: "I remember the tightness coming and going. The ritual and rhythm of it all. The building of intensity. Squeezing and relaxing. I felt like a basketball when tense, and like a bowl full of jello when relaxed... And then eventually a bit empty."

As you may expect, my vagina has a few pointed things to say: "I remember feeling violated when the midwife first checked the dilation. Why couldn't her fingers be longer to reach the cervix more easily? Long fingers should be a requirement to become a midwife: Name. Address. Finger length...." The rest of my vaginal involvement in birthing was definitely intense, but only truly experienced as an after effect because of the epidural. I am glad my mind didn't have to feel that too, with the whole experience being so long and intense already. "Tell that anesthesiologist he done good."

Pelvis says: "Next time you want to have a baby, try to manifest a smaller head. Not so long and narrow. Please."

The space where I had an episiotomy remembers the sound of the snip, and all the people in the room yelling and hollaring and tooting up their voices to try to cover up the distinctive sound. Episiotomy also wants to add: "I'm still tight. There's a lot of scar tissue. It's going to take some time. Don't worry, though. We're in this together. And thanks for the 'Tucks' - it'll help me too."

Bladder wants to add: "Remember when you couldn't pee? That was really painful. I wish someone had given us a catheter much sooner than they did. Over one litre of pee came out. Remember? That's insane. Just sayin'. The good news is I think I've shrunk back to a normal size. "

My Spirit remembers being there too, in the background, silently whispering support to us all with a gentle glow. Knowing that everything was going to go as it should, and it would all be okay, even if it took a very long time.

Birth.

Then my whole body and mind and spirit felt like the worst was over. Relief. Such relief. Time to heal now. This small being is outside my body now. He is with us. Here. Now. He is awesome. So lovely. He is nothing like my experience of the entrance he made through me. He is light. He is soft. He is beautiful and warm. He is content and peaceful.

And now, today, our Little Bean is one year old. The space between then and now seems so distant. I've heard that it can take a full year to recover from giving birth. I'd say that I agree with that statement, on both a physical and an emotional level.

In this moment, as I watch him sleep beside me, I can't help but think, "I'm so grateful for everything this boy has brought me."

I love you Little Bean.

Take it all in

I'm eating a bowl of peaches that were canned with fresh basil, a gift from a dear friend. Delicious. The sweet break reminds me of small moments that are so luxurious that time nearly stops. I typically tend to let these moments come and go as if they will always reappear, but today is different.

We've been on the road for over three weeks, and this small moment of loveliness is being held quite dear. It's a sign of friends. A sign of love. Warmth. Kindness. Comfort. And a sure sign that home can be wherever you are in the moment.

A Little Haitus Called Life

And Christmas... The blog writing hiatus is due to the fact that I've been spending all of my spare time doing two things.

First, I've been making Christmas gifts for the relatives. I won't mention what I've been up to or put up photos of the created loot because said relatives read this blog. But, I will say that the gifts are quite different, beautiful, and were really fun to make. That's the spirit of Christmas right there, non?

The second thing I've been doing is a bit of daily self-care. So, instead of spending my mornings checking my email and Facebook every fifteen minutes, I take an hour or two to go through my Morning Routine.

Morning Routine (aside from peeing and changing clothes/diapers):

1) Drink big glass of lemon water
2) Get breaky started on the stove
3) Attempt to do at least 20 minutes of yoga with Little Bean crawling through my downward dog, or as we like to call it "Threading the Needle" (Note: yoga is typically interrupted by a brief breastfeeding session)
4) Take vitamins
5) Eat breakfast
6) Clean up the breakfast dishes
7) Check email and Facebook

By the time my routine is complete, it's usually nearly time for Little Bean to go back to bed for his morning nap. Then I really get into the nitty gritty (without child), like creating fun gifts, and, well, let's be honest, making dinner, cleaning up, doing laundry, and all the other daily 'grime' we love here at our house.

It's been a pretty stress-free Christmas season so far. I love that. We create that quite intentionally.

Losing My Sense

See, I've got this mega head cold. It's gripped my sinuses and filled them with muck, and keeps squeezing them so my eyes leak like a dripping tap and my head feels like it's in a vice. Ugh.

With all this, I've lost my sense of smell. There are benefits to this: I couldn't smell the chunky milk I tossed after returning home from a two-week vacation.

The less desirable effect of this cold is not being able to taste. I just polished off a few slices of a juicy, tasteless orange. Not a drop of sweetness experienced by me. Seems like a bit of a waste, really. On the flip side, I was aware of all the textures instead. It was like I was 'tasting' fiber. Take all the sweetness out of an orange and that's what you're left with.