I have a lot on my mind of late. Joel and I are looking toward the future and trying to plan with wisdom and with soul.  I keep working on scenarios, financials, and timelines  that might afford us optimal happiness.  It's driving me a bit crazy.

The other night, I walked to my yoga class.  I left intentionally early.  I stopped to smell the darkest purple lilacs, a luxury in their differentiation from my lavender-colored bush at home.  I noticed the sounds of the neighborhood and stumbled upon a girl dressed in sparkly pink mary-janes, pushing a stroller and talking to her cargo playmate, a younger child also dressed up.  I giggled at her nonchalance.  It made me walk lighter.

I entered the glorious old building.  I smelled the age in its bones.  I caressed the thirsty wood on the staircase.  I was dwarfed in the enormity of the windows.

I arrived to class earlier than expected. I took my deliberate time setting up the mat, blocks, blanket.  I found the place I wanted to do my practice.  I tried really hard to meditate on the moment.  I kept getting distracted by the flashing leaves outside the window.  Mission accomplished.

I kept Thomas Moore's quote in my head.  

"The soul is nurtured by want as much as by plenty."
found in Care of The Soul
Chapter 9, "The Economics of Soul: Work, Money, Failure, and Creativity"

I realized how guilty I feel about how much I want from life.
Conversely, I realized how entitled I feel toward those goals.

I carried both in my paradox pouch and let myself feel the nurturing embrace of desire;
the sheer goodness of wanting.

There are weeks when I just don't have much to say ignoring all the noise in my head is the only way to relax.  This isn't my usual modus operandi; instead, I usually engage that voice by journaling and reading and much contemplative quiet time (man, I lead a really nice life).  However, my biggest struggle this week has been not coming down too hard on myself for spending my evenings wrapped up in the boob-tube.

It's that continued internal struggle:

What I want to do versus what I think I SHOULD do.

I admit.

The should usually loses.

So when I was presented with a night all to myself, I had many ambitious lists - organize my desk, walk around the lake, call my girlfriend.  I like having ideas and plans for those days when what I want to do eludes me.  However, I have had to learn to remain flexible with these lists - knowing that my mood, as much as it gets discredited in modern society for its illogical influence on our daily lives, is every bit a part of my soul and psyche as my will and desires are.

SO I did whatever I wanted.

It's funny - it wasn't much different from other days this week, but the difference was a nuanced self-judgement of my activities.  Instead of being ashamed that I sat in front of the TV, I decided to just enjoy it.  What's the point of relaxing if you spend the entire time in angst that you should be doing something else?  Just DO SOMETHING ELSE. I'm really working on this kind of living-in-the-moment.

My mantra:

Brining intentional awareness to each activity will give it life. Do nothing out of blind habit or rigid self-definition. With the precious little amount of leisure time the universe grants, do what you want, when you want.

This isn't a recipe for goal-attainment, obviously.  Many of you need more more defined parameters to motivate yourself towards activities you want for yourself, but in Candace-land, self-discipline is a dirty, dirty word.  Instead, I believe using my desires is a better way to get to my goals.  I WANT to be healthy - I WANT to move, to drink less, to write more.  Great.  But I also WANT macaroni and cheese for every meal, want to drink a bottle a wine, and want to be mindlessly entertained for hours and hours.  Granted, I will probably never be in great shape or arrive at any grandiose achievements, but I am okay with that.

All of this to say, I had an evening alone, and this is what I made of it:

I came home and put on music right away.

Hall and Oats radio, thank you very much.

(Later, this became tedious, so I switched it to "Tina Turner" radio - the best artist seed ever! I then danced foolishly all around my kitchen.)


Read a lovely postcard while unpacking the groceries.


Poured a glass of Primativo while prepping the veggies for a greek salad.


Wandered to the window and people watched for a while.
(Look at that sately beast!)


Gazed idly at the clouds.


Got back to making dinner.


Ran out back to cut some fresh parsley for my pasta.


INNNHHHAAALLLE.


A happy coloring.


Dinner.


Bliss.

When I first began my therapeautic quest years ago, my counselor asked me a very important question.  I was suprised at the time that I had no idea how to answer it.  However simple it may be, I realized that through the years, I have learned well what my soul needs and how to give it thusly.

There are many answers, but for this week alone...a week of sad news and anxiety and eyes cast downward while walking in a storm...for this week, these are my comforts.

"Lifting heavy feet in clumsy shoes*,"

T.S. Eliot
Four Quartets / East Coker I

The reason you know?

A photograph.

Always, a photograph.

Be at peace.

Picture it with me if you will.  11 hours of sleep, 4 of those filled with dreams of children screaming for help, lovers finding replacements, and family members clamoring for favors.  The saint left early to work on a brewing weekend, and though I usually revel in alone time, today it feels really sad somehow.  I made a cup of tea and topped my toast with rasberry jam, decided to make a fire (the first time we've needed it in two weeks), and have sat in my living room deciding how today will be.  I'm bundled in confusion and thoughts and transitions and  people and the future and possibilities, and I just cannot seem to think things through clearly.

So today I decided to take advantage of this time, bring out the multitude of empty frames I have and work on a photo wall.  One of the things I was most excited for in this house was my own creative room.  This means I can decorate it in my own way and have a photo wall!  The saint is a rather minimal bloke, and does not enjoy things covering wall space in large proportion, and I can understand that.  So my room will be totally, all, completely, thoroughly ME.  Unfortunately, up until now it's been a storage room for things that had no place (there is an organ in there, seriously).  In preparation for my sister's visit, I've slowly been cleaning it out.  I think today is the day that I really work it out.  I've got some great ideas, and feel nothing but completely in need of an all-encompassing project, turning up Miles Davis obnoxiously loud, donning some red lipstick, and opening bottle of red.

It's grey in my soul today...and Seattle embraces me.

~crm

Oh fabulous, fabulous Friday. Today I woke up feeling so much better than yesterday. I had successfully confronted a small part of my journey and awoke with anticipation at my lunch with friends and my previously-scheduled facial.


But there was much more to this momentous day in my personal history. This morning, before I left for lunch, I was sitting at my computer with my coffee when all of a sudden and email pops up from the editor of Antler Magazine(which is a totally wonderful publication in the style of fashion magazine, but featuring artists of every sort). I had sent her a little "look at my blogs" email quite a few months ago, but today I got a positive response back AND, ANNNNDDDD a request to write a few articles!!!!!



I could hardly contain myself. I hadn't been that high on adrenaline since, well...ever really. As I replied to the editor, I realized that this may actually be happening for me. Writing for a living, or writing professionally, or writing at all and being able to put it out there is in every regard a dream come true. Even if I totally botch up the article* and nothing comes from it, I will never forget this day and will always consider it a success!

It feels UNREAL!

So I feel totally pampered in a very real way today. It feels like if this writing thing could be real, then my being laid off in February and the fight for this new lifestyle of staying at home and pursuing my soul's interests will have all made more sense to me. To have the luxury to attend to your soul AND meet success there, shoot...that is the ULTIMATE self-care in my book.

How's your pampering going? Remember, this challenge extends through the weekend until Monday, so keep it up!

~crm

*She mentioned doing an article on the top 5 older (i think she means 'classics') books that readers need to read. I think I'll be okay...:)

Oh wicked Thursday. I had planned an entire day for myself complete with leisurely morning, fabulous lunch date, movie, evening alone. I still did all of these things, but dears, today I did them with the heavy burden of my life-long friend, Insecurity.

She woke up with me and said some unkind words. These words they hurt my feelings.

Perfect. Now my own feelings are hurting my feelings.

The saint had his weekly brewther's night at his parents, so I have from 8am until 10pm alone. I decided to execute the plan even though I felt like crawling into a bottle of french red wine for the next 12 hours. What else could woo my woundedness out of my being like a luxurious day out? Also, it was freaking gorgeous here today and my new dress needed walking.

But I couldn't ditch her. Every time I turned a beautiful downtown corner, she was there. Every time I ran ahead and thought I had lost her, there she was. Every time I took a sip of champagne, she stared at me blankly from across the table.


By all definition, I had a fabulous day. Correction: I DID a fabulous day. I donned my strapless dress (don't tell joel, he hates them) and tennis shoes, plugged in my Depeche Mode, and sauntered out to a new-to-me French bistro downtown. I sat outside after braving the "table for one?" question THREE times (the hostess/water girl/server) during the lunch rush, and enjoyed every second of it. Champagne? Yes. Baguette? But of course. Artichoke lentil soup? Naturally. Profiteroles? I suppose I must. Espresso? Well, shoot.

I then wandered around the market with my film SLR and shot away...and in that small vacuum of time, I forgot that it had a nasty little bite in my heart that kept scratching.

I wandered up Pike to see a chic-flick. I was the ONLY one in the theatre. Typically I would find this funny and a bit ironic, but not today. I needed not to be alone there...apparently the gods heard and sent in two girls to sit behind me and watch my back against theater rapists. Because they totally exist. I got my girl-fix of tears and headed home in the breezy late-afternoon.

Two chili-cheese corn dogs later (sigh), I am sitting here with a long night ahead of me and wondering how much money I will have to spend to pamper myself out of this insecurity and actually FEEL pampered today.

And that's the thing. I should seriously know better than to avoid my soul like that. After I scrubbed the kitchen without even knowing it, I realize that I was thinking about a very long time ago in grade school when I was ditched by everyone (don't feel pity for me, I did it right back), and then even further back to a big man getting in his car and driving down the street. And these are the scenes that replay when I turn to face my insecurity. They hurt a bit too much. This is why I usually ignore it, deny it a voice, abuse it, etc.

What's the alternative? I could continue doing this and live with the guilt of my reaction to it, which is to say, think, or do something wicked to someone else whenever I feel insecure...so as to restore the balance. I'm not great at that first strike, but I can strike back with cobra-like vehemence. However, I am really, really tired of making a smeary, toxic muck of people I love and convincing myself that it was their own misunderstanding.

I would like to be that femme fatal who turns around, runs towards her predator with double-fisted guns blazing, and looks really hot in a muddy tank top and shorts in the process.

Unfortunately, I am the chubby little 2-year old with tear-stained red cheeks who is left behind and who never wants to feel that way again. But it is becoming apparent from the scratches left behind by my soul that I must turn around and find courage to face it. Though I cannot take big girl steps and look fabulous doing it, I can take steps the size of a child.

It's getting harder to fit in the self-pampering, isn't it? As the week wears on, I find myself busier and if I have not planned indulgence, it will never happen.


I was thinking today that another benefit of this self-care challenge is that even if we cannot fit something seriously indulgent into the day, we start to come to awareness of how we have managed to care for ourselves already without even knowing it. The not knowing can become problematic because if we are not cognating on how we treat ourselves, we are apt to either grossly abuse or overly-indulge. For instance, today I had a cupcake with one of my tutee's as her 16th bday present, and now I am ready to pamper myself with another dessert. In the long run (and especially since I have spent since June of 07 working my ass off to loose 20 lbs), this is not pampering. If I had decided earlier in the day that the cupcake was my indulgence, I would have slowed down, savored each bite, moaned, relaxed, and enjoyed it fully. There are ways we think we are caring for ourselves that are sometimes the very opposite (doing yoga tonight instead of dessert) is what will translate into my subconscious as self-care. "Your body is the carrier of this beautiful soul...it deserves to feel good too."

For you? Hell, it may be having another cupcake. But at least a new part of the battle is illuminated...thinking about how and what truly feeds your soul.

Though I hadn't planned for today's self-care to be drinks with my soul-friend Ben, I realize now that I will be happy the rest of the night, fulfilled, satisfied in his company and in me allowing myself that leisure time connecting to a friend with whom I will grow old.

And women tend to be the worst.


Why is it that we are so quick to reassure our friends of their talents, beauty, sexiness, and intuition than we are to our own selves? Throughout the last three years of my own journey to take care of my soul, I've noticed that I am a much better friend to others than to myself. This has been noticed and I've put effort into telling myself to be kind to me, to say what I would say to someone I really loved.

And isn't that the key? A true, spiritual, humble, brilliant self-love? Christians hate this word...as if loving ourselves were akin to blaspheme. I must confess that since starting this journey, my relationship with the divine has been at peace entirely. He, like a real father, couldn't be more happy to see me being ME in all confidence and beauty, since that is after all exactly what I was created for.

Devon brought up a question last night. She mentioned not knowing what she would say if God asked her "What have you done for me." As I was washing my face for bed, I thought that I would say, "I have been the Candace you created me to be." I can imagine no other answer that would bring such joy to him.

If I couldn't answer, I would put my friends, sisters, family, and students in front of God to speak for what I had done. After all, they are better at showing us off than we our ourselves.

So to these thoughts, I make a proposition of all who want to participate. For one week, I will be keeping a list of ONE thing I did for ME that day. It can be absolutely anything as long as for 1 moment in the day, you feel fabulous and pampered. I will post my daily pampering here, and hope that you will do the same in the comments or on your own blog. If you aren't comfortable sharing publicly, shoot me an email. I plan to start Monday, May 25. At the end of the week, I will compile a list of each day so we can all look back, STUDY, and learn.

I am hoping that this community will not only give us good ideas on pampering in simple, daily ways, but will also give us fuel to fight in the battle to care for yourself.

Fight for me, and I'll fight for you.
Maybe eventually we'll learn from each other,