Spring

Having spent many years working in the landscaping business I have done a fair amount of thinking about the lessons I can learn from nature. Guidance is ever present just waiting for me to take notice, thank goodness she is patient with me. Most times I am moving at lightning speed not stopping long enough to pay close attention. And when I do, damn, I have to vow to myself to do it more often. This weekend I put aside everything but my garden. I spent both days playing in the dirt and enjoying spring in our tiny oasis. Treasures were everywhere, just waiting for my attention. Spring is an amazing time, reminding me of what is also awakening in my body after the long winter.

I came across a thought that I wanted to share. With my new book coming, “Lessons of a Wayward Yogini,” (I know, I have to plug it) I seem to be hyper sensitive to lessons these days.

In the first few months of moving to Cool four and a half years ago, one of my landscaping clients had a red maple tree in her yard that was not thriving. I had put it in a few years earlier, and no matter how much I coaxed that tree or how many fertilizers I applied, it just was not happy. I told my client I would swap it out and put another tree in its place. When we dug the tree out, I brought it to my new home. It was worth trying to save.

This weekend as I stood beneath the same tree only a few years later, I admired its beauty and marveled at the growth. It is at least twice the size, if not three times. The tiny maple blossoms fluttered as the wind rustled through the tender spring leaves, putting on an incredible show. I took time to watch and study her dance.

I spent the remainder of the day thinking about the basic premise of this tree living in an environment that was not nourishing it, for whatever reasons. The tree simply was failing to survive, a slow progression, but one that in the end would have ended in the tree’s demise. These few years later in an environment that was providing what it needed, it had become a strong tree. And if she was a woman, I would just have to say she knows the power of her beauty and she flaunts it every time the breeze blows.

Across the garden a bit later in the day, I was still wondering, how different are we humans, really? If we spend too much time in an environment that isn’t nourishing our soul, we too begin to fade.

This maple tree serves as a reminder that with the proper nutrients and sunlight, enough water, and some tender loving care, it is possible to change and reverse a negative course.

I believe humans are no different.  It’s hard though to make major changes in our lives if we find we are not happy in a relationship or in our careers.  And with that said, it’s important to note that the tree went into major shock. You can’t dig up a plant and shove the root ball into a garbage bag, without the tree looking pretty grim for some time. Same could be said of humans. Any major life altering changes definitely put our systems into shock. But we too have the same recuperative powers as nature, maybe even more so. After the transplant, so to speak, our mind and body become strong again, and if we have moved on to a life that has the requirements we need, we then have the power to one day sway in the breeze as beautifully as my little maple tree.

Some might say the hardest part is knowing what will make you happy in life. I disagree. I think the hardest part is facing what isn’t making you happy and moving away from it, and accepting that for a while we will feel like we have dug up our roots and shoved them into a garbage bag. Life is nothing if not about our choices.

A good thing going

When I think about the saying “you’ve got a good thing going,” it brings to mind so many fond memories of people and experiences that were such a true pleasure.
Not trying to be negative, but as we all know, when you’ve got a good thing going, it’s only a matter of time until something comes along that changes the game, but for the duration, it sure is nice.
As a young girl, not to mention a young woman, I fought so hard against change, especially if I was truly enjoying whatever the experience was. As hard as I dug my heels in and waged war against my enemy change, in the end I had no control, sadly.
I smile as I think back to that young gal, so doggone emotional. I so easily fell in love with people, and places, and teachers, and coworkers, and you name it. If I’m honest, I would guess that my sad family experience as a child probably played a part. To be graced with experiences and people I truly loved being around, most likely meant more to me than the average person. And depending on how you look at life, that either made me lucky or not. I choose the notion that I was lucky.
I often say, getting older isn’t as bad as it’s cracked up to be, as there are some nice perks.  And one for me is, that I’ve come to a place where when I see the end of a good thing coming, I can embrace it without the melancholy of my youth.
The end of a good thing starts for me on the horizon, far off in the distance, but I recognize it for what it is these days, and I make my peace long before that cloud ever darkens my skies.  I try to remain mindful that the good thing ending was a gift and I remind myself to look forward to the next good thing which I probably will not see coming on the horizon.  It will just one day be a part of my life that I will at first blush not give much thought to, but that over time will become something quite special to me.
I once lived in a sweet 2-bedroom apartment with an office loft on the marina in Redwood City, California.  (And before I tell this story, it’s important to note that during the last recession we all faced where the market fell so drastically about ten years back, I found myself in a position that I needed to sell my home if I wanted to salvage what savings I did have. I felt so sad to sell my house, and I think that’s what makes this story worth the telling. We just never know what a sad ending can bring us if we just trust in a goodness that is ever waiting to greet us just down the track a ways.)
When we found ourselves needing to make the change, Rick and I decided that if we had to move from our home to an apartment, then by God, we were going to find something we loved.  We ended up moving to a Redwood City apartment, high ceilings with wall to floor windows overlooking the marina.  The masts would glide past our window on any given day, taking me away if only in my imagination.   The swimming pool was a junior size Olympic pool that also overlooked the marina, along with the beautiful architecture of the apartment buildings lined with palm trees.  When I swam there, I felt as though I was on vacation in the Riviera.  Most days I swam by myself.  I came to resent any other tenants swimming when I was there … funny.  I’d hold my breath waiting for their departure, and then I’d welcome my friend, solitude, and together we would swim like playful otters in the water, exercising to a point, but for the most part just playing and floating and stretching and dreaming.  Being a swimmer, I was in heaven.
When we had decided it was time to move on, I knew I’d never experience swimming quite like this again.  And to date, I have been right.  But it was okay to let go, because I knew I could stash away my beautiful swimming memories with the rest of my “good things going” memories, which I’m starting to believe help one become a happy senior citizen (I’ve been told I now can call myself this … I like wayward yogini better.) 
My latest “good thing going” which is literally going, is my dentist of the last ten years or so.  Let’s face it, visiting the dentist has to be on the top ten unfavorite activities for most humans.
Some years ago I met my dentist, Dr. Gary Thodas, in Karen Toro, my hair stylist’s salon.  He was a good friend to her, and was finishing up his haircut scheduled right before mine.  As I listened to their banter I got to thinking, I’d like a dentist like him.  And by the time he left, I had asked for his card, and the rest is history.  Ever since, I’ve actually enjoyed my dental visits.
I could try to put words to his personality, but I think what better describes him is that his Girl Friday has worked with him for 23 years.  And the rest of his staff has also been there for more years than they can count.  That says it all.
He retired this December.  When I was in for my cleaning in early December, Girl Friday could not hold back the tears as she told me that the “Doc” would be retiring at the end of the month.  And as I drove away, I too felt her loss.  Where would I find another dentist that likes to joke when my mouth is full of cotton balls and tubes and multiple fingers from numerous people and God knows what else, and who I love to shoot the shit with when all the drama in my mouth is over, and who also stashes a $20 bill in Girl Friday’s pocket as she leaves to join me for Martini Tuesday, telling her that the drinks are on him (not that he shouldn’t be sorry for that torture earlier, but how many dentists would be?)
This “Doc” has been doing some very nice things for I’m pretty sure a great many people over more years than he’d probably like to count … my definition of “a good thing going.”
Much like the loss of my beloved swimming pool, I close this chapter, cognizant of the blessing I’ve had, and the knowledge that most likely I will need to look elsewhere for the next “good thing going” and that it probably will not be my new dentist, but I’m confident that something or someone will be heading my way sometime soon.
And in my mother’s unforgettable words close to the end of her journey here on earth (well, probably it was the situation, her voice and intonation more than the words that made the words both funny and unforgettable, more later on that)  I say “Thank you, God, thank you, God” for the good thing I’ve had, and the good thing comin’ round the corner.
Namaste friends, and best to you, “Doc” in your new endeavors, wherever they may take you.  You will be missed.