The Suburbs

http://www.startribune.com/blogs/79261662.html

It was probably 1987 or 1988.  I was 15 or 16 years old.  I *loved* the Suburbs and I thought that Bruce Allen was pretty freaking awesome.  I remember seeing them play at First Avenue...an all ages show (Downtown, people!) and feeling so super cool as only a teenager feeling larger than life possibly can. 

Babysitting at an Amway convention.  In Des Moines (I think...).  For some reason I was by myself, about to get on the elevator at the hotel.  The doors open.  I step on.  Look around and realize that I am not only super cool but SO, SO super cool.  I am on the elevator with the Suburbs.  The whole band.  And ME.  SQUEAL (but only inside.  I am *way* to cool to actually make any sound or, you know, ask for an autograph. I'm pretty hopeful they'll be blown away by my presence, ask me to be in their band, or maybe Bruce will marry me (!) (musical talent and age discrepancies aside.) People, I rode, like 6 floors down with the SUBURBS and now they are my best friends for life!  It doesn't matter that we didn't speak.  Or that I forgot to breathe.  Because I am 16 and the giddiness of this moment stays with me for a looooong time ;-)

This blog isn't about that.

This blog is about the other Suburbs.  The ones with housing developments and chain restaurants and big box retail.  This blog is about the fact that hell may actually be freezing over. 

I have repeatedly stated to my husband, Bob, that living in the 'burbs has all the appeal of eating pig snout.  I am an individual! I am a liberal! I shop locally! Recycle! Hate chain restaurants and urban sprawl! I am an URBAN girl and I am *so super cool* as only a near-40 year old child of aging former hippies feeling slightly less larger than life possibly can.

But yesterday, after looking at what seemed to be 2,000 houses for lease in the Austin metro area, it seems we are down to issues of size & affordability (1000 square feet (where every square foot counts...no freebies) for $2000/month and up in central Austin...yikes), & availability (very few houses available in our price range in central Austin, but numerous choices in the 'burbs).  The rental market is hot here.  We could buy (actually quite affordably) but we don't want to do that after being here for all of five minutes.   

And to be honest, I am tired of living in a teeny, tiny house,(seriously, we haven't invited anyone to dinner in three years and I love to cook for people).  

So...pig snout may be in my future.  But it *will* be served pastured and organic, wearing a "Democrats do it Better" tee-shirt, singing "Love is the Law." 

**(Advice from other committed city, freaky, out-of-the-mainstream women living in the suburbs incredibly welcome! Befriend me! Please! Or I may stalk you! Cuz' that's how I roll!)
**(Apologies to all the terrific people I know who live in the suburbs.  This isn't about you.  It's about me.  Or rather, about how I perceive myself. Or rather about how "never" has no place in my vocabulary because it just keeps slapping me silly.)

That laughter you hear in the backround?  That's just my husband, Bob relishing a rare moment of possibly being right ;-) Perhaps at my expense. 

Trying to consciously wander about Austin,
Chandra

Is anybody out there?....echo, echo, echo...

Hello old blog.  Or rather, hello, newer blog I barely began before stopping, that piggybacked off my old "Where Are the Fischers" blog about living as expats in India.  (Longest, most confusing sentence ever).  I've got the itch to start blogging again.  So, I'll scratch it and see how it goes...

What brought that on, you say? (And by "you say," I really mean, me, since everyone else that knew I was blogging is long gone.) echo...echo...echo...but wait, I can Facebook myself!  How self-indulgent is that?

Well, we're moving again.  This time to Texas.  Which by my liberal definition does qualify as another country.  Seriously.  I know very, very little about Texas, except to say that it produced George Bush and is responsible for Perry,   And I am moving there.  Gulp.  (See the term liberal above for more on my political leanings). 

"But, at least it's Austin."  Which is what every single person says.  I have never been to Austin, but I am quickly learning that if there is anyplace in Texas where a tree-hugging, liberal, agnostic, unschooling, pro-gay everything, world-traveling, trad foods eating,  attachment parenting writer/poet oddball, doula, midwife student, yogi is likely to feel at home, it is apparently in Austin.  See, I am a freak.  I accept this.  Bob is used to it.  The kids have been warned that there is a genetic predisposition towards it.  The dog is my sidekick.  People who know Austin and who know me seem to believe it will be a good fit.  And the universe does seem to be providing me with all kinds of signs that this is true. 

There you have it.  Bob left yesterday and started his job today.  We move at the end of February.  We're leaving a lot of amazing friends and communities and opportunities and that is always hard.  On the other hand, world traveling doesn't work if you never leave and I've never been one to shy away from  the blessings of adventures and friendships not yet conceived.

Maybe we'll actually get some visitors!

Namaskara!
The Fischers

40 Day Personal Revolution and the Fruit Fast Day #2....

For the past 3 weeks I've been participating in a "40 Days to Personal Revolution" practice alongside my fellow yogis at Sigh Yoga.  The practice is based on Baron Baptiste's book by the same name and it includes 6 days of yoga each week, one day of rest, meditation twice daily, journaling and reflection, readings geared toward mindfulness and personal growth, and a cleansing Fruit Fast midway through.  Today is Day 22 and I am part way through my fast.  To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to the fast...actually feeling a fair amount of anxiety about starting it because, well...NOTHING BUT FRUIT.  "In for a penny, in for a pound" as they say...

Fruit Fast Day 2...Last night's yoga practice was great.  I had much more lightness & energy than I anticipated and it was a vigorous practice.  Headed to 6 am yoga this morning...feeling a little tired.  I didn't push my practice...took child's pose a few extra times and did a 20 minute meditation.  Oddly, enough, I left the studio feeling quite strong and nourished.  Headed, home to ginger tea and a fruit plate (pineapple, coconut, kiwi, apple and blackberries).  I had planned to make a smoothie along side it but found I was full.  Overall, I'm not as hungry feeling as I expected...less so this morning than yesterday.  Hunger is a strange sensation...we are so used to eating whenever we choose...whatever we choose, that I think we often identify our feelings (literally) as hunger when they are something else entirely (boredom, for example).  I love to eat.  I love to cook.  I love cookbooks and studying nutrition, recipes and traditional foods.  In planning for this fast, my intention was to explore the real feelings of hunger in my body, as well as identifying those things that aren't real hunger...those things that could be better "fed" in other ways.  There are many truly hungry people in this world and it's important to me to acknowledge and honor both that and the good fortune my family has to not be experiencing true hunger. 

I am feeling a little cold, though!  Fruit is considered a very cooling food in many health traditions and here in Minnesota, we are in a cold, cold (did I mention, bitterly cold?) season.  Hot herbal teas help with that but it leaves me wondering if fasting or cleansing with fruit is quite right for this season when warmth is both desired and even necessary for survival.  "Food" for thought...

My overall yoga practice has taken on new dimensions.  Strength. Flexibility. Openness.  Flow.  All of these carry over into my daily life.  Certainly, there are welcome physical benefits, but the greater benefit lays in how I feel.  Yoga is so much more than a form of exercise.  On the surface it's a physical practice but it's core is Presence.  Last year at this time, I was in the middle of a "30 Days of Yoga" challenge.  I loved that, but I was plagued by mild injuries and quite frankly, exhausted by the end. This year, I am finding so much more goodness in a practice that allows for restoration. 

One of my favorite parts of this process is the meditation.  I have meditated at irregular intervals throughout my adult life.  Most of the time, I've sought out meditation in times of high anxiety or stress; leaving it behind when the crisis passed.  This is different.  This time I'm establishing a daily practice of sitting with my self, wherever I am at.  Doing that lets me take a pause.  It lets me drop judgement of myself and others.  Allows room for compassion and change.  It doesn't stop me from anger, frustration or fear but it's a "reset button" and I find myself coping with those emotions in a more balanced way. Don't get me wrong...Sometimes Usually, I sit down to meditate and begin making ridiculous mental lists or designing dog food bowls, or pondering important questions like "Why are lemons yellow and limes green?" My mind is a busy, crazy place, but at least I can see that for what it is and release it. 

May the Fruit Be With You.

Shanti, Shanti, Shanti....Hari Om Tat Sat

Gratitude

Life can be hard.  Wretched.  Exhausting.  Sorrowful. 

Life can be easy.  Beautiful.  Energizing.  Joyful. 

The pull of all the things that are difficult, even horrifying, in this world can drag us down into hopelessness and fear.  Into feeling as if nothing we do could possibly matter.  We become weighted. 

I was talking about this with a friend today in reference to a mutual aquaintace (a friend of her's, who I know).  This friend is an amazing person.  An inspiration to other people, but also a person who often wonders if there is any point to trying to make things better, when there are so many negatives to battle against. 

I also went to a Thanksgiving Day yoga class this morning in which the theme was Gratitude and how it has the power to change our perceptions, if not our day-to-day realities. 

Both of these ideas rooted in my mind around the same time and I asked myself..."How do we get here (to letting gratitude change us) from there (feeling adrift in an ocean of the world's heavy burdens)?" 

I think we do it, as in yoga, one breath at a time.  One moment, in which we choose to look up and notice that the world is full of goodness.  That the light touches everyone of us.  That the fear touches everyone of us, too.  We aren't alone and we cannot battle alone. 

I think we do that by using those moments to create an oasis inside of ourselves.  A deep pool we can draw from when overwhelmed.  A pool filled with the knowledge of those who love us and whom we love.  A pool also filled with all the *small* things we have to be grateful for. 

Sometimes that pool feels really shallow.  It's not easy.  I am grateful for my family.  I am even grateful for the hardships I've faced and the lessons I've learned from them.  My good fortune at having enough to eat and live on.   Some days those big things are more than enough.  But, I've found it that changing my perspective requires something often more frequent and tangible than that: 

The warmth of my yoga studio.  Warm wool socks.  A simple, heartfelt "Good Morning."  The fact that I knew both of my maternal grandparents well into adulthood.  The Internet.  The color blue.  Pickles. 

There are things I don't have.  Things I don't do.  Things and people I miss.  Things I wish I could change. 

The counterweight to all of those is Gratitude.  The oasis I create for myself is Gratitude.  Gratitude begets Gratitude, Clarity, Creativity, Abundance and a willingness to share it.   Count your blessings even if you can only do it on one hand.  Even if the only blessing you can think of is that you *have* working hands. 

In Gratitude,

Happy Thanksgiving!

Conscious...What? Wander...Where?

Consciousness.  To be awake. Aware. Not just physiologically (though, that helps. Believe me, there are days I've kind of tried it the other way...)  Present.  Aware, not only of the existence of oneself, but also of the existence of life as it's being lived by other life.  Sentient.  Responsive, but not Reactive.  Appreciative of Breath.  To See oneself reflected in the joys and sorrows of others.  To See others reflected in the joys and sorrows of oneself.  To See and not pass by.  To pause and notice...object, detail, relationship, emotion, physicality, spirit.  To try love instead of judgement.  To try to love even the unloveableness...in yourself, in those you love, in people and situations you don't agree with or understand, in strangers doing strange things, and friends or family, sometimes stranger still. 

Wandering. To move along at a pace suited toward observation.  To choose a path and see where it takes you.  To sometimes let the path choose you.  To be open to the fork in the road, the unmarked journey, the chance offering.  To stop and rest when that is good.  To stride ahead, when that, too, is good.  To learn to recognize that *good* isn't always as recognizable as one might think.  To make a sweet plan and follow it.  To know when to throw the plan out the proverbial window and set it free. 

These are my unofficial definitions.  I sat down to write them without much forethought, letting the words flow from my fingers.  The Conscious Wander isn't a place I'm trying to arrive at.  But the process by which my family chooses to live.  Not a perfect set of rules, expectations or regulations.  But a state of being-ness.  Sometimes we (I) fall flat on my face.  And now you all get to read all about it :-) 

The name came to me in writing this post at the blog I wrote about becoming expats and living in India.  And the words stuck with me, almost as a manifesto, of sorts.  I've know for a while that I wanted to begin blogging again, but in a new space.  The old blog is a bit of a love story.  Our India love story. Since returning to the U.S., blogging there felt like a tresspass.  That probably sounds odd.  But odd is our specialty around here.  We like odd...or at least spending time out of the main stream.  I also wanted to write on more varied topics:  Homeschooling.  Birth.  Food.  Books.  Writing. Yoga.  Conscious Living.  The Parenting Journey.  And because I am a glutton for punishment...Philosophy, Politics and occasionally, Spirituality and Religion.  And of course, my favorite...Travel. 

Of course, at the moment the only reader I have is myself.  That makes it easy ;-)

Bom Sankar Bholenath! (definition to come...)

"Change Your Mind & Change Your Life"

No, it's not original, but it does sum up what I'm trying to do.  See, I've spent a significant amount of the past year and a half looking either backward or forward.  Given that our family motto is "Be Here, Now" it is quite possible that I've strayed somewhat from that ideal. 

Life has a funny way of teaching you lessons you don't always appreciate in the moment.  How to Resistively Leave Expat Life With Your Sanity (Somewhat) Intact.  How to Lose a Parent As an Adult When You Still Feel Like a Child.  How to Fail Miserably at Segmenting Your Grief and Anger into Appropriate Time and Place.  How to Believe in the Law of Attraction and Still Manage to Attract Crap. 

Don't get me wrong.  Those are all excellent titles for my forthcoming book.  Seriously. 

What this post is really about, however, is both the act of letting go and the pause of standing still.  Resistance is an easy stance.  Protective and dangerous all at the same time, but comforting and reasonable, too.  My heart has been bruised and desperately wishing for and remembering the shape of my former life felt like balm to that ache.  Conversely, plotting the future, feels like control.  Except it isn't. 

Last month was the one-year anniversary of my Dad's death and it sucked far more than I imagined it might.  I planned to feel sadness.  I didn't plan to feel like I'd been flattened...all my bravado, plans, ideas for grief ripped right out of me.  I was shocked to find myself both physically ill and filled with anxiety, anger and fear.  My body felt foreign.  My brain would not shut off.  And my grief gave me a smack-down.  Who was I, to think I could fit it all into a few special, private, alone in the desert moments?  Who was I, to imagine grief as a process with so little place in life? 

So...the past month has been one big Time Out.  I had to tune in and could not circumvent the path I'm on for one second longer.  Sleepless nights, panic attacks, crying jags, explaining my pain to my sweetheart of a husband and children who, yes, live with me and are used to always capable Mom.  I'm doing alot of things toward regaining balance and equanimity...focusing on excellent nutrition (no caffeine, limited sugar (no refined foods) and alcohol, targeted supplements, yoga, acupuncture, SLEEP & rest.  I began journaling again (a long instilled habit that I gave up during some other difficult times in my life...which made as much sense as walking naked in an ice storm.)  I'll probably see a therapist (in fairness to my children and husband, who, as loving and understanding as they are, do not desire careers in psychotherapy.)  Most importantly, I'm allowing myself to feel things as they come.  To let them wash through me.  To breathe in and be still. 

And it's working.  For this place I'm in RIGHT NOW.  For this life I'm living in *this* moment.  A life that is full of love as much as it also has pain.  A life I am lucky to have even when it appears to be stalled in an awkward, uncomfortable place I'd rather avoid.  I've remembered that those places are growing places.  Emerging places.  Pain and fear like a cocoon I forgot I'd had a loving hand in weaving. 

While I have decisions to make and dreams to dream and places I'd like to go, I've decided to not be attached so much to the outcome.  Instead, to be Open. To let in Grace.  To acknowledge and release. 

In this way I get to lovingly say goodbye to my Dad and all the things I wish he wouldn't miss.  In this way, I get to hold on to the love and forgive the rest.  In this way, I get to sweetly remember our life in India without living in and clinging to a past which served us so well but cannot possibly serve us now.  In this way, I get to stake a new claim in my self and life here. I don't mean that all of this is a done deal (and here can mean anywhere).  No. Consider me a work in progress.  Grief in Life.  Often with a ton less grace than I aspire to. 

As it turns out, this is my inaugaral post on the new blog.  I've been sitting on it for months. Unable to continue posting on the old blog (http://www.wherearethefischers.blogspot.com/ )but unsure of my direction.  I'd planned a simple introduction, an explanation of who we are and what "The Conscious Wander" means to me.  In a way, this post says it exactly.  Except of course, I'd meant to be funnier ;-)