Bringing Up Baby

Well. There is nothing like struggling with a personal trial to help a writer develop a niche. Read my latest article "Bringing Up Baby" in the June issue of Whole Life Times.

I met the neatest people writing this ("met" as in talked to on the phone or via e-mail in most cases, but still!). Julia over at FertileHeart.com sent me her two books (amazing reads). And Gift of Green let me interview her husband (thanks, Amy). I got to touch base with Randine Lewis of TheFertileSoul.com who, like Julia, leads holistic fertility workshops. And I found a lovely connection through a gal in my writers' group who shared her birthing story. Since writing the piece I've met Njemile in person. She's given me a few acupuncture treatments (with really small needles!). And Sima - a wonderful yoga teacher - has been in my living room offering one of my favorite (and rare) indulgences, a private lesson. She forgot her iPod, and when she came back to retrieve it, she had her adorable baby daughter in tow. I bonded with the playful little girl over my dog (who loved the attention).
To read the article, click here.

The Wait

Reading books is part of my job.

It teaches me how to write.

Some days I barely work at my desk, opting instead to read for long stretches of time. Haven’t had the chance to do that lately because my days have been blessedly crazy (a steady stream of assignments and editorial work at a magazine).

But soon I’ll be leaving for The Ark where I’ll dedicate my time to the personal, more creative writing I enjoy. And, of course, to read.

I have a huge stack of books piled up and ready to go west. Normally, this pile of books would be tempting. After a long day, I’d be up until the wee hours of the morning reading. But knowing that I’ll be able to savor the prose and follow the story at my own pace has stopped me from trying to cram in a reading session at 1am. So the books stay piled, quiet and patient. I know it’ll be worth the wait.

Light

Night number two of total darkness went much better than night one. Ron and I both felt like it was the best night’s sleep we’ve had in a long time. When I woke, I saw light over in the far corner. I thought Ron had gotten up and turned on a lamp on the floor above so he could see while he walked around, but he was still sound asleep. It was from the early morning sun streaming in through our big back windows and spilling down the stairwell. Ron says tonight is the deciding match.

Speaking of light, I saw my first firefly of the season tonight.

Also, I love the verse in the bible that says there will be no sun in heaven because God himself will give light.

Darkness

Last night we slept in total darkness. It's an experiment. Apparently artificial night lighting can mess with a person’s system, and I’m trying to get my body back in balance. We slept in the basement where there are no windows, no glowing clocks, etc. We’re going to try it for 3 weeks.

“Wow, I can’t even see my hand in front of my face,” Ron said after about 10 minutes.

I buried myself against him, snug in the covers. This was going to be great. No nightlight shining in my eye. No flash of the cell phone signal. It was cool and . . . not-so-quiet.

The dog got sick. She was pacing above us on the kitchen's hardwood floor. Ron was up and outside with her in the dark. Then I had a nightmare about war and people shooting me.

By morning, I was exhausted.

Blogs and Birds

Up over at the Wasa blog this week:

How to Be Sweet on Yourself;
Gift of Green's Clothesline Challenge; and
Ode to a Kiwi

. . . among other things.

In other news, did you read the story about Yosuke the parrot? Made me laugh.

The Great Adventure

I was saddened today to learn of the death of Steven Curtis Chapman’s 5-year-old daughter, Maria. I saw him in concert many years ago after his wife had just given birth to their third child. I remember him saying, “We have Eeny, meeny, miny and NO MOE!" But they did have more. He and his wife became involved in international orphanages – serving abandoned kids, raising money, and establishing a foundation. They adopted three girls from China for a total of six children. My first thought upon reading the news story was, How could God let this happen to such a wonderful, loving family? I do think that good things can come from unexpected and tragic places. And I have faith that will be true here.

~ ~ ~

Years ago, I used to set my alarm clock to wake up to Steven Curtis Chapman’s song The Great Adventure.

Saddle up your horses we’ve got a trail to blaze
Through the wild blue yonder of God’s amazing grace.
Let’s follow our leader into the glorious unknown
This is a life like no other
This is The Great Adventure.

Solomon

King Solomon.

When he inherited the throne from King David, God came to him in a dream and said, "Ask for whatever you want me to give you."

Solomon asked for an understanding heart to help govern the people and discernment to know right from wrong. He didn't ask for riches. Or for a long life. He didn't ask for the death of his enemies.

God was so pleased with Solomon's request, that God gave him a wise and understanding heart. And riches. And honor. And, if Solomon continued to walk in God's ways, a long life.

I wonder what our presidential candidates are praying for?

On Her Way

The first road leads west. It’s lined with fertility pills, hormone shots, and artificial technology. Cold metal instruments, long thin tubes, and “You-have-to-squeeze-me-in-TODAY” type of appointments.

I hate what I see. But the crowds urge me on. They say, “Isn’t it worth it?”

Is that what I’m supposed to think? Anything for a baby? Anything? Everything? Peace of mind? Sanctity of body? All those hard earned dollars we’ve saved?

There’s another way. I can help myself – heal my body and emotions and spirit. The hurdles are big, but not insurmountable. The path is slow. Dark. I take one step and look for the next. The doctor scoffs. The relatives sigh. My husband says, “If this is the path you want to take, count me in.” And he’s along for the journey.

I know my body is capable of conceiving naturally.
I know the drugs will do nothing but mess with my system and prolong the process.

So I spin on my heels and turn my back on the well-beaten path. I make my way through the tall, thick reeds. I piece together my own map of instinct and wisdom and faith.

Mama’s on her way, my love.

Goodbye

A thick marine layer rolled in and spread over the coast, so I haven’t seen the sun in two days (in Los Angeles that's an eternity). I doubt I’ll see the sun tomorrow before hopping on the plane to fly back east. But that’s okay. I’m waking early and heading to the beach anyway.

I need one last rollerblade.
I need to touch the sand and breathe the sticky sea air.
I need to admire SoCal’s architecture again.
And the Pacific. The magnificent Pacific.
There’s no way I’d leave without saying goodbye.

**UPDATE: The sun came out after all. Can't believe I underestimated LA weather. I should know better.

One

Can you believe I've been blogging for Wasa for a year? (Me neither.)

If you haven't visited in awhile, come tell me whether I should start drinking wheatgrass and help me figure out if a mushroom is a vegetable.

In other news, I'm back "home" in LA and gosh, it feels good to be here. Like slipping into a worn pair of jeans. Even though I'm in a hotel working my bootie off, I love that I can run out to my favorite lunch spot or attend my old yoga class . . . which I'll be blogging about for WASA later this week. Which reminds me, you're supposed to be visiting me there, so go on . . . . Scoot.

Warmth

Legs stretched on a lounge chair
Book in hand
The lap of pool water

Two friends arrive
We’re celebrating a birthday at the spa
Lemonade cocktails and soothing rays of California sunshine

Later, under a blanket on a soft table,
Steam massaging the skin of my face, so gentle
Hands melting into a wax treatment

Dinner brings champagne bubbles
Sushi and braised ribs
Under the bed covers, I sleep

Wake to a happy Sunday
Say hello to the university, a place I adore, where I write
Write and write and write – then walk the mountain – and write some more