a metaphorical patchwork quilt

I want to thank you for your contribution, be it monumental or otherwise, to this metaphorical patchwork quilt. It seems I have become the keeper of the parts of people they have left with me, though we may have parted ways.  The collection of these instances has been subtle, and often they are mine without my realizing it.

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now say “ommm”

Until yesterday, I hadn’t been to yoga in [insert really long amount of time here]. Sometime before January. I kept saying I’d go while I was in Nicaragua, which is all well and good but did I? Nope. Neither did I all summer, when I continued to claim to myself, my mother, my friends, and basically everyone else that I was going to go “on Saturday.” Surprise: that Saturday never came.

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daily dose of mindfulness

I’ve already detailed/complained about my commute in a prior post. Excuse me while I do it again (I spend almost 20 hours a week on the train, okay?). I aim to treat it as a learning experience, this time. Mindfulness. These days, it’s a buzzword. We think mindfulness and envision juice cleanses and yoga teachers in Bali, teaching us how to properly say om and make peace with the world and our surroundings. Easy enough, when we’re on vacation, but everyday mindfulness is a bit trickier.

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it’s the simple things

For the unknowing, our youngest son Patrick, age 13, is a developmentally delayed, non-verbal child with Autism and experiences “sensory overload” pretty frequently.

We are lucky enough to live near Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Virginia and go there often. So yesterday we packed up our gear and headed over, planning to meet up with family members visiting from out of town. As usual, as soon as we clear the entrance area, Patrick is heading for the train. He loves the train and would happily sit on that train for an hour. So that’s our first stop. We let the family know we are in the park and wander around for a little while after our initial train journey. We then make arrangements to head over to the Sesame Street area where there are plenty of fun things to do and see, particularly for the little age-3 cousin with us. I figured Patrick would like this; he likes Sesame Street and watches it on TV at home sometimes.

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how to deal when the world spins madly on

The most chuckle-worthy activity of adulthood is reflecting on past “when I grow up” statements. Many wanted to be dinosaurs, princesses, wizards, or firemen. The statement universally agreed on as children was “when I grow up, I’ll be happier.” At the time, we didn’t know it’d be a wildly delusional statement. It made perfect sense as kids. Adults could drive, make money (our allowances fell well under the poverty line), and they could drink the strong smelling fruity “grown-up drinks.” They didn’t need someone stronger to open juice boxes or tie sneakers. They were strong, wise, and independent. They were content full-time. Adults had it made.

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