Wandering

I don't know exactly why I do it, but I wander--all the time! Perhaps it's my ADHD, or perhaps I'm just one of those "thinker" types.

I joke about being a little obnoxiously talkative sometimes, not quite knowing how to stop talking when I need to sort of thing. It's not really always true. I like to just wander around sometimes and think...all alone, with no one to tell me, "Mandi, let's go! I'm bored!" Most of the time, I love to wander outside. I love feeling the breeze (or in today's case, the howling wind) on my face, listen to the trees & grass respond to the wind, and feel the earth under my feet (most of the time I prefer bare foot walking, but unfortunately it's still too cold for that!) I would have loved to squish mud under my bare feet today, but I had to settle for my sister's pink rainboots.

I'm fascinated by trees. For some reason, I admire their intricacy and beauty. Even when everything is still dead and brown waiting desperately for spring like the rest of us, I find it breathtaking. The designs that the branches of the trees make against the cold, cloud-filled April sky make me dizzy if I stare for too long. I went searching for grapevine branches today on my parent's farm. We have acres and acres of land behind the house that my brother and sister-in-law live in, and the woods is one of the most beautiful, silent, and peaceful places I've ever visited. The woods are so thick with trees as a result of little to no human undertaking to thin out the vegetation and brush. This and its position on a high, glacial formation hill make it a fortress from the whipping, howling, icy wind--even when the trees are bare. Oh, and in case you haven't guessed, my interior decorations are aimed at bringing the outside into the inside. Home decor is often comprised of sticks, twigs, pinecones, and occasionally...rocks. Interspersed with some artificial flowers, leaves, and ribbon or burlap, makes it look just perfect. This is sort of a contradiction for me. My decor of choice is always natural and neutral, calm and earthy, but when it comes to dressing/decorating myself? None of that! My closet displays clothes from one end of the color spectrum to another, with very little black, brown, or gray.

I found my sticks....my decorations. However, I also found myself "lost in the woods" for over an hour. I saw sticks missing bark from where animals had gnawed it for food in the long winter. I saw tiny sprouts of vegetation poking through the fallen leaves, just waiting for the warmer spring days to arrive. I found more colors than just brown. Even though the woods looked somewhat like a war-zone with the fallen, uprooted, rotting, and dying trees, I found it beautiful. I walked in one side of the woods, and out the other. As I returned on the muddy, cold, wet path I scanned the field and found beautiful rocks that had showed me of billions of years of sedimentation and glacial movement. The wind blasted cold air onto my face causing tears to form as a result of its force and coldness. The tears ran down my cheeks without even being noticed, because when I got into the house, my sister said, "Mandi, were you crying? You have mascara all the way down your cheeks!" Oops, I guess I didn't even realize that the wind had made my eyes water! I'll show you a few of the pictures I played with.

Who would have thought to find such bright red?

This was the "war zone"

It looked so fuzzy; I almost wanted to touch it--but I left it 

See what I mean? the lines? the designs?

More color contrast. The bark on that fallen tree is completely stripped. The tree in the crux of the fallen one has grown up always being held by that fallen tree. If left like that, it will continue to grow and either bend outward away from the log, or it will grow around the log and envelop it. Only time will tell.

Animals are getting hungry for real food...not just bark off of saplings. The only eat the bark off of living trees...they won't touch the dead ones. They're smart, they know where the nutrition is...and it's not in dead food. We could probably take some lessons from the rabbits...eat your food fresh. 

Messing around with the focus and coloring on the photo. Yes, even dead trees fascinate me.

It looks like an oozing sandwich. But the lighter parts are actually granite that has been squished in-between the limestone.

Same tree, just the actual non-edited photo. Overlooking our barren fields. In a month or so, my dad and brother will be frantically planting corn and soybeans...and my sister and I will be scrambling to "rock pick" all of these fields. (driving a tractor with a wagon, up and down the lengths of the fields, picking up any rocks bigger than our fists so that they don't wreck the machinery in the fall when the crops are harvested---we hate rock picking. Thanks to the glacial formations in our area, there are fascinating different kinds of rocks, but always LOTS of them...and every year when the snow melts and the the frost heaves the ground upward, more rocks appear.)

laugh it up!

As I went to text to my sister asking her if we could have a play date today, I stopped and re-worded it to sound more "grown up," because I'm scared she might think I'm crazy if I say that. Even though I joke around about my silliness and lack of desire to grow up/act my age, etc., but I love making people laugh and smile just as much as I love it.  Here's why:
Being silly can actually make us healthier (and happier too, but that's a given). Acting silly, laughing, smiling, and playing are actually GOOD for you! Laughing, or even just smiling, signals the brain to switch out of the sympathetic nervous system (the nervous system that controls our fight/flight/freeze response) into the parasympathetic nervous system (responsible for calming & relaxing our bodies). Oh, and guess what? Our bodies can't tell the difference between a "fake" laugh/smile and an authentic one...the effects are the same! (So cool!) Laughing also makes us breathe more deeply and thus get more oxygenated blood into our hearts...and that's always a good thing! So...laugh until you're gasping to catch your breath! It's good for you! Or, just give the "ha ha, funny lame joke" laugh--your body will thank you either way! Just in case you don't believe me--here's a link.
Go do something fun today--I for one am going to blast my music and sing/dance to myself ALL the way on the hour+ drive to Ixonia. And yes, I hope somebody sees me looking ridiculous! No, I will not stop...because I bet they'll laugh at me. Then I've done my good deed for the day!

Here's a great link, just in case you want to know more! It's acutally quite fascniating!
 http://www.heartmdinstitute.com/v1/heart-healthy-lifestyles/mindbody-connection/laughter-medicine

Falling

I once tried to climb a massive tree that was calling me to sit up in the cradle of it's branches. In my excitement, I forgot to realize that pulling myself up on two branches that were only about as big around as my thumb, would probably end in disaster. It did. The branches snapped, and I was abruptly reacquainted with my old friend, gravity. As I laid on the very hard, lumpy, apple-strewn ground trying to find where my breath had gone, my sister leaned over me, laughing hysterically and attempted to inquire about my well-being. "Are you....ok.....Mandi?"
Even though I couldn't yet catch my breath, I was laughing as I looked up at the sky through the branches of the tree I'd tried to climb. Somehow, I wasn't embarrassed, hurt, or even remorseful. As I laughed at my falling, all I could think, "that was fun." The joy that my realization that I was indeed bound by the law of gravity brought to the face of my sister made the failed attempt to ascend the tree not a failure at all, but in fact, a much more profound success. I found and shared joy and laughter.

Falling can be fun.

Please, please, please...don't run away

On two separate occasions tonight, I found myself in tears thinking about lessons I have learned or acceptance and genuine friendship that I have felt from friends who are often overlooked themselves because they are "just kids." If you don't think your teenager "gets it," or cares, think again. I promise you, if you're willing to stop, sit down, and really listen, you might see what I've seen. There would still be an empty, dark place in my heart if it weren't for friends almost a decade or more younger than me who weren't scared to ask or care.

Rainy Day Mystery

"As I grew to love ALL of who I am, life started changing in beautiful and mysterious ways. My heart softened and I began to see through very different eyes." -- Kim McMillen, When I Loved Myself Enough

I no more than opened this book and BAM-- there it was! Words to match the feeling that I hadn't quite been able to describe yet. I'm learning to love this life I've been given (trying to abandon the notion that I am sinning by loving life--those old patterns are deeply rooted), and in doing so I have never been so slow. Yes, slow.

When I was little, I used to shuffle my little feet to make noise with my shoes and scuffs on the floors (yes, I did this purposely--sorry mom), I liked the sound of the 'click, shhhhhwoooop, click, shhhhhhwooooop, clip'  of the different types of shoes I would wear. (To this day, this is the ONLY reason I will wear heeled shoes--I like the "important" sounding click, click, click of the heels) Needless to say, in a family of go-go-go-get-it-done-er's, shuffling along was obnoxious and impeding the speed of productivity. I constantly heard, "Mandi! Pick up those feet! Quit poking along! Pick up the pace, etc." I think I was just observing...but I don't know. I was too afraid of getting in trouble for "shluffing" along to continue. For years it was a constant effort to speed it up. I was always the last one. I blamed my poor attention span.

I'm finding myself shuffling again. However, this time for a much different and much more conscious reason. I've been missing out on some of the most incredible beauty around me for my entire life! I'm sick of hurrying up to get everywhere, or to get something done, or to just be done. There is no joy in that. Today I made a list of what I discovered while "shluffing" along in my favorite boots--rain boots, pink rain boots.

1. the somewhat silly "thwup, thwup, thwup" noise that the top of the boots make as they collide with my calves to the rhythm of my walking pace. This isn't something you hear with snow boots.
2. The intricate patterns that water droplets make as they glide off of the surface of my slick, pink rainboots.
3. Rain and spring smell like worms. Yes. Worms. Worms sort of smell like wet dirt. Rain smells like wet dirt.
4. It takes my frizzy, unruly hair about 15 minutes after going inside from the rain, to begin to curl in on itself. 
5. Closing my eyes and letting the rain hit my eyelids. Why doesn't rain feel like tears running down my cheeks? The sensation is very different. 
6.  No one looks up when it's raining. How come?
7. Sometimes when it stops raining, the opaque, white sky is brighter than a clear, sunshine-filled sky. It makes my eyes all squinty.
8.  Best of all...I was the only one who was actually searching for the puddles through which to drag my feet. A grown adult made a conscious effort to yes, stomp through the puddles. Not just stomp--a triple jump. Both feet, squat, arms-reach back, pull forward, and follow with the whole body...once! twice! three times! jump....jump...jump. Pure delight. Embarrassing? Not one bit. 

What does this have to do with loving myself? Everything. I loved myself enough to listen to the urge to slow down and notice a beautiful rainy day. My deep, blue, and wide eyes haven't seen this kind of beauty and mystery in a long time.

Just a thought...

I can't seem to decide if I am easily amused, or just unusually grateful. I'm not sure that it really matters. Perhaps both are just fine.

Most 20-something-year-olds aren't spending their Friday nights like I am. I just spent over an hour listening to classical music (Baroque, actually. Bach was mostly a Baroque-era composer) laying on my bed, staring at my bedroom ceiling. For the most part, I did just stare at the ceiling. That is, until I discovered that when I moved my arm, the light from my lamp cast the shadow of my movement on to the ceiling. I was intrigued. I continued for some time to be somewhat mesmerized that moving my arms in different ways created beautiful, fluid, and interesting shadowed silhouettes on the ceiling. The lyric-less music made the movements seem almost magical as they floated across the ceiling. I never realized how cool shadows really are. I've never slowed down to notice what a little light can do. I must admit, I am amazed.

So, yes. I wonder. Easily amused or profoundly grateful for the little things? Yes, and I think both are perfectly beautiful.

You aren't going to find yourself here...

Do you ever think about something so long, that you wonder why you can't get a certain idea or thought out of your head? This one has been on my mind for the past few days.

 Mirrors. Personally, I always approach mirrors with extreme caution. It's almost as if I'm bracing myself against seeing something horrible. Yet, I always know who is going to be there when I actually do look at it. If I'm looking, I'm always there. Always have been, always will be. So then, why have I said so many times, "I don't even recognize the person who is staring back at me..."? Yet, I continue to stare...it's almost as if I'm trying to convince myself that one day, I'll actually see the the real me in that cheap piece of reflective glass. I think I have been wasting my time--and lots of it.

I started thinking, the only person I've ever looked at in a mirror is myself (for the most part), and I bet most people would say the same. We spend a lot of time looking in the mirror, but has anyone ever "found herself" (as in the self-actualized kind) by looking at her reflection?  I can't say that I've ever discovered anything profound about who I truly am by staring into a mirror. Staring into a mirror is for the most part, a solitary and quite lonely experience. I don't think I have ever realized how much of my "me-ness" is actually based on and even defined by the connections, interactions, words, feelings, experiences, and expressions that are far beyond what can be captured in that momentary, reflective glimpse offered by the mirror. A mirror will always only show me a one-dimensional picture this life.

Let's face it, the mirror's capabilities will never change, I can only expect so much from a piece of glass. If I want to discover (or explore) the other vast dimensions that comprise who I am, I have to turn around and quit looking at myself. It's time to look up and look out at who, and what is out there. That's where I am going to find the self that is inside the picture offered by that mirror. The mirror offers an incomplete and imperfect picture of who I am. A picture is good for some things, but not the whole story. What is my story? Where am I going to find the words for the story? Maybe they don't have to be words, maybe there are more pictures? Maybe there are more characters, more authors, more adventures, more something---

I posted a little sticky note above my mirror. "For further information about yourself, turn around. You won't find it here."
Corny? Perhaps, but for now, I think it works just fine.

Food Makes Me Feel Better...

Duh. We like pretend this isn't true.

Why is it not ok to talk about amazing things that we can do with food? Why is it taboo to say that we LOVE food, LOVE eating, or LOVE desserts etc.? Our whole society is scared to love food. Actually, I think most of us are just scared that anything that tastes good is bound to be "bad for us." Fuck that. (Sorry, that's the only thing that worked right there...) The only way it seems that someone can say that they LOVE food is if it's a known fact that he or she works out regularly or is just "naturally thin." It's not ok to say that you love food or eating unless you have a perfect body. Saying it without an ideal body seems to make people think (and then gossip), "maybe she shouldn't love eating and she could lose a little weight." Insert my previous expletive here. That's absolutely wrong.
Give me that funny, head-tilted look of confusion when I tell you that I love my German food, and I promise you, I won't keep quiet. Nope! I'm not a small person. I'm not skinny, I know that. And I don't want to be anymore, either! I wasn't happier OR healthier that way. I am healthy, and that's more than I can say I've been in a long, long, long time. I couldn't do 85% of what I LOVE doing right now when I was "skinny." No graduate school, no dancing, no yoga, no friends. Not to mention, I looked like I was dying, my hair fell out, my joints started degenerating, I passed out all the time, I couldn't think, I was depressed, and I could never sit down for more than 10 minutes at a time. Oh, but I was so normal. No thanks. I'm not willing to give up discovering the spirited, bright, quirky, and creative ambitious life I have right now. I'll learn to love the slightly bigger body I have now, thanks.

We're all convinced that we can only like food that is "good for us." NEWS FLASH: All food is good for us. If you hate food, or pretend to hate food you're going to miss out on so much of life that has NOTHING whatsoever to do with food. Somewhere along the line, we've tried to disconnect food from vitality and quality of life.

I realized this when I felt a sudden urge last week Friday to make a traditional German pastry "just because." I was feeling bored, and a little bummed. I didn't think it would turn into a teachable moment for me. As I finished baking and cleaning, I noticed that two of my roommates and I were just standing in the kitchen talking about life, funny dreams, and of course, food. I noticed that I was smiling and I was laughing. I was totally comfortable just having a conversation with two other people. Believe it or not, spontaneous conversations used to be off-limits for me. I was too uncomfortable and anxious about what to say. In explaining what I was making to my roommates, I thought about how it was baking that created that delightful moment of normalacy for me. An example of how capable I actually am to have normal conversations with people was brought to light through food. This was the first time I had baked anything in over 2 years.

Gratitude. Another lesson I've been taught by food. On the farm where I grew up, my dad is the neighborhood driveway snow-plower guy. When it snows, he gets up extra early (at about 4:30) to plow 3 extra driveways for neighbors (in addition to the 2 driveways that he has to plow). We aren't talking small 2-car driveways either. These are farm driveways. 2 of them are probably over 1/4 mile long each. Nonetheless, he does it anyway. He doesn't charge money, and doesn't really even expect anything in return. However, how have I always known my neighbors to show their gratitude? Food. So, naturally, I showed my appreciation for my roommates by baking one of the pastries for them! I can't tell you the sense of accomplishment I felt in hearing, "Mandi! This tastes really good! Thank you! That was so nice of you." And you bet I ate my fair share of the yummy, buttery, flakey pastry! (Friday AND yesterday)

Accomplishments, socialization, gratitude, lessons, life---all of this from baking a pastry! The pastry is long gone, but what I learned will be around forever.

Peace!