About Easter

The more I have come to live, the more I have come to realize that in waves of doubt or despair – literally equal in that moment – are hope and celebration.

The church has failed so many people and Easter really is simply undoubtedly a celebration of spring, light after darkness, new life and the mystery of creation… the joy you feel when the green of your hostas or ferns, the yellow of your tulips or lillies straight up usher in the first real day of winter being over.

These are undebatable truths. These can be communally celebrated, witnessed and experienced.

But about Easter.

I am an Easter person. And it’s not because I was raised on lyrics like “veiled in flesh the Godhead see” or “Christ the Lord has RISEN TODAY – ALLELUIA”. Which built an understanding of a savior and my need to be saved.

And though I am suspicious to believe I am Easter person because I have experienced ruach – spirit – pranayama in the humbly low brass tones of // crown him with many crowns – the lamb upon the throne // and how (even in this very moment) I am moved to tears thinking of how love is bigger than me, love requires faith, and so LOVE must be DIVINE. Holy. Recognition worthy. Eyes closed feel it worthy, divine. I know it’s not just that.

No. I think deep in my bones I am an Easter person because I know moments in my life where I have experienced a different, more peaceful or positive, emotion after a terribly anxious, fearful one have been moments where I have sacrificed, let the bad guys have their way while keeping my belief, or where I held the hand of a dying woman to then witness the peace of her dead body; her spirit obviously not there.

Maybe religious Easter coincided with seeing Christ energy in the sun, the green, the grass. Or feeling the open hearts of those experiencing beautify after thunder, darkness and silence. Maybe we should all scale it back out of headlined beliefs and generational religion and feel what we know to be true: the natural cycle of new life coming after death.

I am an Easter person. A finder and lover of the silver lining. A collector of rocks, an exchanger of peace, an encourager of hope.

A lover of green ferns.

A celebrator of the faithfulness of the rising sun and moon.

a little writing warm up

Not only as precursor to a writing event in my near future (albeit it is still a toss up between notes to friends, astrology bible study post (with a personal deadline of publishing to the 4 dedicated readers of that email distro) or (hopefully) a little fiction). Hashtag how many parathesis can one use in a two sentence paragraph. Hashtag Hi Delene. (Hashtag Editor.)

This post is also a refreshed commitment of sorts.

I am down in my study packed with necessities with a plan to be here for 4 maybe 5 hours. First thing on my mind to share is a deep thought scribble on the back of a check somebody wrote me for Jan and Feb yoga classes.

It goes like this:

  • If you believe somebody “likes to” “drive you crazy. Then, in theory, the best approach would be one aimed to manage the body’s reactions to triggers, use breath and grounding stances / practices ahead, during and after engaging with said somebody. Thus eliminating the variable of “crazy” from the equation. If you can’t be driven crazy, they can’t have the satisfaction of driving you such.
  • If you believe somebody “likes to” then the opposite must be true: You like to do things as well. What do you like to do? Do you get any satisfaction from establishing any kind of positioning with others? Do you roll your eyes at people? Do you get annoyed when they don’t do what you want them to do? Do you cut people off when they are speaking? Dismiss or counter their opinion immediately without listening? Do you walk away from hard conversations? Easy ones? Do you offer opinions unsolicited? Do you ever forget that the person you are dealing with has a life behind both of your eyes where they are allowed their selfs, their whole life, without the judgement or validation of you?
  • If any of those things are true in even one slight degree of truth, you probably drive somebody crazy. The question is: do you like it? If so – health check your ego. Fit check? I think is what the teens are saying.
  • Lastly, in theory, if you believe somebody likes to drive you crazy, then it must be true that you allow others to drive your experience. Though to some degree, this is unavoidable in life; in many degrees it is possible to self advocate, set boundaries and contain agency.

Here is what else is going on:

There is a Director job posted for a communications type role in my *home town* home town. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t think twice about it. I did. And a third time to boot (in which I was wearing a navy blue blazer with my hair pulled back, making excuses for my nails and admiring my new glasses). I sure do love parentheses lately. Anyway, from a mentality standpoint, I am paying attention to whether or not I rage against the whole of the corporate machine (I am the CEO, I really can’t work anywhere) or if I could get into a flow leading a part of something; like Public Engagement for City Hall. So that is interesting to observe.

I recorded a class today that will go live on Sunday… Valentines. It is virtual only and goes live at 7p central (aka Chicago’s time zone) on Sunday. I wrote it so that it could be done in bed if one so desired. And I love it. Legitimately love it. Key word: patience. If any body is interested that reads this (thank you, by the way) use the contact form and give me the email address and first / last name you want to use and comment “valentines restorative class” and I’ll register you for class. The link you get will be good for 24 hours and – for first timers, it’s on me (and the studio) as we would love to have you.

That is pretty much it. Warm up complete. Time to build intensity…. :) erin

“from the help” @ study, saint louis, foggy day

Parents traditionally delight in their children taking their first steps, demolishing their baby size birthday cakes, dressed up in a costume… a bow… a little baby tux.

As a mother, I know the feeling of delight when I am delighting in my children. I have actively stayed still in present moments to strictly observe whatever they are doing – watching the game they came into on their own, watching their slow waking moments, watching them watching something all on their own.

Matter of fact, this ties into an early intention I set for things like outings to the zoo: let them sit as long as they wish. It doesn’t matter to me how much ground we cover, we can sit in front of the hippos, we can camp out in the birdhouse. Dwell. Delight.

This made for many childhood younger year memories but also, last year, when my 13 year old stepdaughter came to live in St. Louis for 6 weeks in the fall. Prior to the official move, the marriage; David and I let her give it a shot. I took her to the zoo and was mesmerized by how long she could sit, watching… observing. So I, too, sat… watched… observed.

I remember one time I delighted in Ellen; a time so uniquely unconventional for typical delighting that it was formative to my way of parenting. I was sitting on the couch, she was playing on the floor – maybe 2 1/2 or 3 years old. She got up from where she was playing, walked to the end table, grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose.

I cocked my head, squinted and smiled. Did she just get up from playing, aware of a tickle in her nose, know to get a tissue, get one and care for herself? Did she help herself become more comfortable? Surely, she was aware of herself.

Fast forward five years later, she is 7 or 8 and her parents are divorced. I moved out into a small apartment and – though I was experiencing a tremendous amount of relief and freedom in my life – I was naturally processing grief, specifically in relationship to the loss my children took in the break up and the definitions that were shifting for them.

There was one night I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. It was a peachy-pink tiled bathroom with a big deep tub, stained glass window and warm lighting over a big huge vanity mirror. On the counter was my toothbrush, resting on a fold of toilet paper with toothpaste on it. Next to it was a note, “From the help of Ellen”.

From the help of Ellen.

My heart, to this day, flutters when I think about this – this concept of each of us having a reservoir of help. Bounty of help, reserves of help, to offer ourselves and to offer others in this world; specifically those we are doing life with.

I think about her early demonstration of helping herself with her runny nose. I imagine a tank of help, swirling with awareness, from which she took a small withdrawal and then the experience of being cared for depositing more back in. Likewise, that night, kissing her sleeping soft cheeks – I deposited back into her tank.

I wonder about this concept a lot. That we have help (noun) instead of we help (verb). When we live in a way where giving is the action and the helping, the hoping stop and instead we have help to give, we have hope to give – does this shift the way we feel? Does it impact the way we consider ourselves able?

It’s a foggy grey day today and I have a few things to button up before starting up some work at 1p. I am curious if this thinking feels different to anybody out there. That’s all for now :) namaste…. erin