Human Jellyfish

I’ve been thinking a lot about our bodies– how miraculous and baffling they are. All the different components working together, the signals, the hormones, the cues and responses. I’m trying to think about how my body works instead of just how it looks.

Also, when half your face goes numb and the doctors are trying to figure out wtf is going on, curiosity can sneak in. They take pictures of my brain, I learn as much as I can about my nervous system.

And yes, as a trainer I already had physiology and all that, but this brought it to a different level.

I started thinking about our brain, and how THAT is us. My perceptions, my feelings, my senses, my thoughts, it’s all there in this clump of neural whatnots shooting electrical currents back and forth.

And from that little blob stems out all these little tentacles, like a jellyfish, that thread throughout our bodies keeping every piece chatting with the others. These nerves that tell us what is going on around us, where we are, if we’re safe, what the temperature is, all of that.

The ones in my face— are having a moment. The motor neurons are firing, so I can MOVE my face. But the sensory nerves aren’t online. I can’t FEEL it. Like after the dentist, but now it’s been two weeks. It’s weird. So very weird. Yet I find not just comfort but AWE in the wholeness of my body, this phenomenal network.

And that awe extends to the rest of the world. I’ve been digging into my plants, repotting, whatnot. And seeing their root system– makes me feel connected. Plants are jellyfish too! (Obviously not really, but you know what I mean).

I guess what it comes down to for me is to realize that we are all more connected that we remember. That we really are walking miracles. Our nervous system alone is worth pausing to write poetry. A magical electric network, sensing, sending, moving, communicating nearly instantly.

So take that magical human jellyfish suit and enjoy your day in whatever capacity is available to you. You are loved. By me and others.

xox

Outliving Roe

There is so much swirling in my brain and I have post-it after post-it stuck around my house with Things To Say and Ask but now that I’m here all I can manage is uff da.

I turned 40 the day after Roe should have turned 50. I am living a life where my daughter has FEWER rights that I grew up with. For the first fucking time, rights are being RESCINDED by the Supreme Court. We’re moving backwards.

Sunday, Bean and I went to our local #BiggerThanRoeRally. I explained that people in Wisconsin were now trapped under a law from 1859. That women in our country aren’t being allowed to make decisions about their own bodies and healthcare.

Abortion is Healthcare. Healthcare is a right. Abortion is a RIGHT.

Bean wore a bright pink shirt that said “Keep your laws off my magical body” and on the back “My Body Belongs to Me.” She made her own sign, with a unicorn on it.

Her sign. “2023, not 1849. I miss my rights.”

Our Congressman, Mike Thompson was there, Bean met him in 2018 at Rock the Ride. I reminded her of him and she said “Oh yeah, we ride bikes together” (the chutzpah, I love it). He spoke, and our amazing Assemblymember Cecilia Aguiar-Curry spoke (we are so lucky to have her).

Bean with her “biking buddy” Congressmn Mike Thompson at Rock the Ride Napa, 2018

Women who remember life before Roe spoke. Teenage girls who’ve watched their rights be chipped away got up and spoke. It was really something.

Junior leadership and senior leadership.

Though my favorite was the young man, maybe 20 (maaaaybe), who stopped by the table to clarify why exactly we were there. “Wait, pro-Roe or anti-Roe?” He asked with his pen suspended. “Pro. And Roe was the floor, not the ceiling. We need more than Roe.” “Oh good,” he said. “I don’t have money or anything, but I have time and energy to give.” That’s what we need most dude.

He signed up. He’s gonna text bank to Wisconsin. “Oh, I can totally do that!” he filled with pride. Some of the dudes are okay.

Meanwhile the toll of gun violence shatters my heart again and again.

I am made of shattered pieces. This does not make be broken. It means I am rebuilt. Reformed.

I should also go have breakfast.

Have *you* chewed anything recently?

Much love to y’all, it’s hard out there. You are loved by me and others.

xox

Silver Millennial

I was brushing my hair on Tuesday and I noticed a plethora of silver hairs sprouting out like a tiara.

I got so excited.

It felt cheeky.

See, my youthful fatalism had led me to believe I’d never grow old, we’d never survive that long.

Some of y’all know what I mean— growing up with nuclear disasters, the hole in the O-Zone, Y2K Endtimes! It was like, why plan for the future when the world’s gonna end before you graduate High School?

Don’t get me wrong, I still did The Things. Just in case. So the world didn’t end and off I went to Berkeley.

In August of 2001. And we all know what happened the next month.

It was really interesting being 18 at that time. On the cusp, recently out and into a world that then completely changed. It was especially interesting to be represented by the only Congress Rep to vote against the unjust war (Barbara Lee Speaks for me!)

So I never really thought about The Future. It never felt reliable or healthy to expect it. Getting old. Retiring (hahahaha, we’ll never get to retire y’all 😹 but that’s another chapter)

My HAIR is going silver. And I thought, at almost-40 (that comes next week), that it would bother me. We’ve been conditioned to loathe aging, but seeing those sprouts of silver made me feel defiant. And Resilient.

So I’m thinking of my fellow millennials, especially we the silver set. We’ve turned or are turning 40.

Weekly Reader told us in 3rd grade that we’d have biosphere towns on the moon but instead we have a Pacific Garbage Patch. So things aren’t great.

But we’re still here. Which is kinda punk rock of us. (Our Gen X sibs would be so proud, I like to think).

What’s up.

I don’t have a brilliant insight with which to wrap this all up but I’ll say this. It’s hard out there and we’re really hard on ourselves. Maybe we don’t have to be.

Maybe as we metal out with out silver hair, we can be just a little bit gentler with ourselves. We’ve earned that. A bit of kindness just cuz.

Okay— have you eaten recently? Maybe go have a snack.

hydrate and moisturize y’all. You are loved by me and others. Xox

Early powerless morning

Kidlet woke up early today (unlike during the school week) and asked for my help turning on lights because she’s scared of the dark.

“No, I’m scared of DEATH, who *waits* in the dark.”

Dude. Okay. She’s seven (?!).

But then we turn on the lights and they’re on then they’re OFF and out. She panics. I light candles.

We open the curtains but it’s still dark outside. We play our own version of Clue. She puts the figures in each room, we sort the cards. She eats an Rx bar and a cookie, the fridge stays closed.

It gets a bit lighter and the rainstorm pauses, we go for a rainy walk. She helps me clear drains. We chat with a neighbor back from the store carrying ice blocks and firewood.

Back at home she builds a toilet paper roll fort. I wish I had coffee.

The fort, with POWER!

Within a few hours the power returns, my bestie calls, I brew my coffee, the pot empties, my husband wakes up. We brew some more.

Another glamorous day in my sweatpants.

I hope you are dry and cozy and safe.

I’m off to make oatmeal.

Pre-power, pre-coffee.

Hydrate and moisturize. You are loved by me and others.

Gifts from Marge

I had the fine privilege of training and getting to know a wonderful woman in her 80’s named Marge. I started training her in our Exercise to Wellness program and when COVID hit, we took our training sessions first to Zoom, and then outdoors (once we’d both been vaccinated).

A fascinating woman, who had faced many challenges and deep loss, including the death of one of her son’s, Marge gifted me with perspective, experience, and grace. She became a surrogate grandmother to my daughter and I would often distract her with stories while she exercised.

Marge would send cards and books to Kidlette, and I would send pictures and drawings. One of the gifts of Zoom training was that the two of them got to see each other a bit. The best was one day I brought Kidlette with me and she LOVED “training at Nana Marge’s house.”

Last year, Marge suffered a stroke and it wasn’t the kind you rebound from. When she passed, I decided to leave fitness. It wasn’t a healthy place for me and I realized I was wanting to leave for a while but never would have quit on Marge. I loved our visits.

I’d tell her about K’s antics and she’d marvel at the change in parenting styles over time. “I can’t ever imagine my mother getting down on the floor with me,” she told me with a grin. Never judgmental, but filled with curiosity and delight.

I loved Marge and I know she loved us. The other day I was in my garden and noticed some of the bulbs I buried last year are poking through to say hello. Marge got me to do that. I told her about how I’d replanted a bulb once and was so thrilled when it poked through.

“Oh, I do that with all my bulbs!” She shared, “Stick em in the dirt and then I forget where I put them until they come up. It’s like a present to yourself.”

So as their little green sprouts poked through I smiled and thought “Hi Marge. Thank you for your love and lessons.”

It’s gonna be, y’all. I won’t say it’s gonna be okay, because things are mighty hard. But it’s gonna be. It’s gonna be spring eventually, things will blooms, things will change, and life will continue.

Why hello

It’s gonna be. And You are loved. By me and others.

Chew something, and hydrate.

xox

Rough few days/What I’d Tell My Daughter

It’s been a rough few days. And I’m proud of myself.

I haven’t succumbed to the sinkhole of self-pity (though I’ve certainly dipped my toe into the pond of self-righteousness). I’m able, for now, to maintain perspective. And that is new.

In my process of breaking out of the binary, I’m beginning to recognize more shades of grey- more nuance and context— which grants me freedom; it gives me space for grace.

Not that I’ve been all that graceful or gracious. I’ve been awkward and vindictive, but I’m learning to hold space for that. I’m holding space for my messy imperfect humanity.

And desperately trying to remember that we’re all messy humans. And that most people are mostly good.

Recently I was wronged. I was misrepresented and it was quite a blow. Im trying to let it go, as it’s one of the Things-I-Can’t-Change, but that is proving difficult.

I tell myself “This is a reflection of them, not you. Remember who you are. Trust yourself.” And I need the constant reminder.

I even reached out (WHAT?!? I know).

But before we give me too much credit, know that it could also be described as “VagueBooking” or “fishing.”

But I did it and I’m glad I did. I asked my network to let me know if I’d ever been helpful to them because I was having a shit day and also would appreciate animal pix.

And Y’ALL. My vulnerability and honesty paid off. Folks from all areas of my life (and all its iterations) chimed in and made me feel so SEEN and VALUED and LOVED.

It reminded me that I have value and purpose beyond just that shit day. That my yesterdays meant something and that tomorrow I could help someone too.

One shit day is one shit day and it’s not that it doesn’t suck (IT DOES… omg it really does), but one day is not my life. One day, however shitty, will not define me.

The ripple effect of the shit day will still be significant, but it doesn’t wash out all the other goodness we’ve created.

Also, I did something. And I highly recommend it. I was so lost and upset and I didn’t want to talk to ANYONE about it.

So I wrote a letter. As if I were writing to my daughter who’d had a day like mine.

I’ve read it several times since, and it helps.

So while I hope you never need this, I’m still leaving it here, in case anyone makes you feel unvalued.

What I’d Tell My Daughter

“I am so sorry. This is unfair. The people who don’t appreciate you, who see you through a skewed filter, are really missing out.

Being sensitive, tender, different, gives you insights that others lack. These insights allow you to notice things that others miss. It can be really hard to walk through this life feeling and seeing what others miss.

The difficulty does not mean you are doing anything wrong. You are not broken.

I realize this does not remove the pain.

I see you and I value you.”

I’ll pull a Lion King and echo this— “remember who you are.”

And I’ll add this— “if you need help remembering who you are, ask your people how you’ve helped.”

Their recollections will reflect your nature. Your actions will remind you.

And if that’s not available, do one thing tomorrow. Help one person. Each day is a brand new day and thankfully they only last 24 hours.

Breathe through your day. You are loved by me and others. Time for some water, I’m thirsty.

Xox

Keeping it Simple.

As you may have inferred, I am not much of a cook. I can, and will, cook to feed myself and my family out of necessity but not necessarily full of joy.

I know I feel better when I eat more plants (grains, fruits, veg), but I also know “plant based recipes” tend to be complex multi-step process filled with specialty/expensive ingredients.

So today I share a slice of freedom, a dose of perspective , that “healthy” (or healthful, or whatever you use), doesn’t need to be complicated.

Regular ass oatmeal. “Old fashioned” rolled oats. I add cinnamon.

Oatmeal, apple slices, a splash of milk— and it’s good.

For my fellow nerds out there, I like to use apple slices because it adds a bit of sweetness and creates more chewing, which is a big part of starting the digestion process. Like kindling for the fire. It also adds some micronutrients and fiber, plus you know, it tastes good.

Another geeky reason I add apple is I like a delegation of food types— a whole grain and a fruit is better than just a whole grain. Thinking in terms of “more” instead of “less” has been a big shift for me.

So has divorcing specialty ingredients 😹

Old fashioned oats, apples, cinnamon, regular-ass milk (whole milk y’all).

Basic but delicious. Adding nuts would make it “better” (more inclusive/nutritious) but I don’t like nuts in my oatmeal so it’s not “better” to me.

So remember y’all, there’s gonna be a ton of New Years’a diet shit going around. Lots of money to be made off our insecurities

Fuck em.

You are loved by me and others. Hydrate, moisturize, rest.

Xox

Proud Mama

Bean is old enough now that she’s paying attention to our conversations.  Last night I was talking to my spouse about bad headlines.  Specifically, the headlines surrounding SCOTUS’ recent decision to keep T****’s Title 42 in place, effectively closing the border to asylum seekers.

Confusing AF

Some context—my grandfather was a newspaperman and he was always very clear with us about the duties of the 4th pillar. That an informed public is a requirement of a healthy democracy. Well the headlines yesterday were so convoluted, it was hard to determine WHAT the heck it meant.

Title 42 closed the border under pandemic conditions. Family separation, the cruel ice boxes, the forced sterilizations of women, all this came together with the criminalization of those seeking asylum.

Biden challenged this, saying we now have vaccines and are no longer living under pandemic conditions, travel has resumed and so should asylum (TBC we still have a pandemic but our society is no longer functioning under those early restrictions).

Republicans challenged THAT (Funny when they decide to acknowledge the virus), and SCOTUS sided with them (no surprise there but lots of disappointment).

So last night, I’m talking to my spouse about the lack of clarity in reporting on this.  In that conversation I mentioned something about how TFG wanted to keep people out, people who need help.

This is the moment our child chimed in.  “That’s not right!” Bean declared from the living room, “When people are cold and need help, we should let them in and help them!” (Someone was paying attention to the Innkeeper’s story at Christmas). 

 

Y’all. Times are hard but that moment really lifted me up. My first grader has a good heart. A really good heart. And I’m proud AF.