Sisterhood of the Sunday Pants

A few thoughts:

I have had the "why don't we wear pants to church?" conversation with a number of friends over the years. Imagine my delight when I found the discussion spreading over the internet over the past several weeks. This conversation is often filed in my mind under similar discussions over what is tradition, what is doctrine, what is Mormon culture and what is Mormon folklore, etc.

All good questions.

However, I think something that got lost in the dialog was that wearing pants on Sunday wasn't about dress codes. For me it was, as Joanna Brooks wrote, "an event conceived as an expression of Mormon feminist visibility and solidarity and a gentle challenge to traditional gender inequalities in Mormonism".

It wasn't a protest.
It wasn't disrespectful.
It wasn't really about the pants.

For me:

It was about asking, is there a place within the church to examine some long held ideas?
It was about saying there are active Mormon feminists who love the gospel.
It was about asking, we are here - is there room for us?
It was about saying there is gender-inequality within the church.

Is there space within the church to begin to look at some of those questions?
Is there room for honest and heart-felt conversations?
Is there a willingness to accept that everyone doesn't feel the same about every issue?
Can we find ways to be more Christ-like as we engage in this conversation?

The saddest thing for me has been the the vehemence with which people have responded. It was disheartening to hear/read statements like:

If that's what you think, you need to find another church.
If that's what you think you obviously no longer have a testimony.

So let's sit down together - in whatever we choose to wear - and have a real conversation!

Restorative Yoga and Support

Several weeks before Emily's due date, I found myself hospitalized after what I thought would be a routine Dr's appointment. Late that night I found myself wide-awake and unable to get comfortable. A nurse helped me change positions and basically used lots of extra pillows to surround me with support. I don't remember exactly what position I was in, but I will never forget that feeling. I still remember being able to lean into that support, relaxing and finally falling asleep. A few hours later a healthy Emily arrived!

Emily is almost 18-years old .... I haven't thought of that night in quite awhile but I was reminded of it yesterday while attending a Restorative Yoga workshop.  If you haven't tried restorative yoga you really should - it is amazing. Gratitude-filled shout-outs to Tara, a great teacher and Sage Yoga a great new studio. The poses are very relaxing and restful - for body and mind, hold times are longer, and blocks, blankets, bolsters, etc. are used to provide support. 

(Picture Credit)

 As I entered each pose and turned to my breath, I found myself opening to the sensation of being fully supported. Throughout the remainder of the day, as I recalled this sensation of being supported, I thought of times in my life when I have felt supported and times when I have not. I also thought of times when I needed support but didn't know how to ask for it or struggled to lean into support that was offered. 

I am getting better

at asking for

and

 leaning
into

support.

I ended the day with profound gratitude for my yoga practice, my yoga teachers and for the Aarons and Hurs in my life who have lifted up my hands, strengthened my feeble knees and propped me up when I was too tired to stand. (Exodus 17:12, D&C 81:5)

I am grateful for them.

I hope they know who they are.

I want to be like them. 

Have You Been Grounded Lately?!

I don't ever remember being grounded as a kid - I'm not sure if that indicates a memory issue or if it is just further evidence of the fact that I was (as I have always maintained) a model child. The reality is probably that my parents realized that grounding was more of a punishment for them than it was for any of us :)

I have been thinking a lot lately about the notion of being grounded.

You can

gain ground

cover ground

break ground.

You can ground

 a pilot

a plane

a disobedient child.

You can

hit a ground ball or ground out

use ground forces or engage in a ground attack.

There are

picnic grounds

proving grounds

legal grounds.

I have spent a great deal of time over the past two years

learning how to become grounded.

I learned it at the gym

I learned it on the yoga mat

I learned it in a therapist's office

I learned it during dark days and long nights

I learned it in the bright light of rediscovered
choice
connections
and
courage.

I now know what it feels like to be grounded.

I also know what it feels like when I am not grounded.

Sometimes I am grounded.

Sometimes I am not

and so I continually practice

but more than practicing

it has become a practice

it is how I choose to live my life

on the days when it is easy 

and more importantly

on the days when it is hard.

what grounds you?

 



Practice

At a yoga workshop last year I heard the following:

"If you want to change

your life

change your practice."

This phrase has been bouncing around in my head for the last couple of weeks and I have

thought a lot about the difference between practice and a practice.

The yogi was right and it applies equally on and off the mat.

I'm still thinking and continuing to change my practice(s).

For the time being

RECLAIM. RENEW. REJOICE.



Monday is Laundry Day

When I was first married, my sweet mother-in-law gave me a set of dishtowels that she had embroidered that provided me with a chore schedule, that if I had followed, probably would have changed my life. At the very least it would have led to a cleaner house. Monday was to be Laundry Day. At our house, laundry day is kind of on an as-needed basis and fortunately our girls have been good about keeping up with their own laundry - this might explain why they have copious amounts of clothes (particularly underwear) thereby enabling them to postpone doing laundry practically indefinitely. Sorry girls, your secret is out.


I have been thinking a lot about laundry lately, fortunately just during daylight hours. During college I worked at a hotel laundry and I used to dream sheets, towels and banquet tablecloths. And yes, that is why I can fold king-sized sheets neatly all by myself! I currently do my laundry in a cramped closet-sized space that is really just a hallway-ish room that connects the kitchen to the garage. I think the architect that designed our home got distracted and when turning in the plans looked them over one last time and said, "Dang, I completely forgot about the laundry room -- let's just stick it here on the way to the garage." Because of this, I am a little envious of those who have amazing laundry rooms -- like a friend who has two washers and two dryers in her laundry room, and a sister whose laundry room is ginormous and includes lovely built in cabinets and counters and storage. However when I think about my fore-mothers and their streams, rocks, iron pots, open fires, washboards, and wringers -- my cramped laundry room looks pretty inviting.

Sometimes when I do the laundry I become contemplative.

I have actually stood mesmerized watching the front load
 machine at the cabin.

I appreciate the discrete steps
the

gathering

sorting

washing

drying

folding

that my linear mind seems to understand.

Laundering has certainly changed through the years but one constant has always been the water -- I have to admit to being disappointed when we upgraded(?) to high efficiency washers. Don't tell the eco-police but I routinely used to set the water level one higher than was needed for the size of the load -- I loved the sound of the sloshing water and doesn't more water equal cleaner clothes? 

Apparently not.

There is something very satisfying about taking a basket full of dirty laundry and then being part of the process that transforms it from dirty to clean. I was recently visiting with someone and we started to talk about airing dirty laundry. Afterwards I thought about how we sometimes get overwhelmed literally and figuratively by piles of extra dirty, smelly laundry. I know because I have some -- but I am realizing that our dirty laundry doesn't need to be aired - it needs to be gathered, sorted, washed, dried, and folded. Transformed from dirty to clean. Perhaps the final step -- putting it away -- means getting rid of it, letting it go, repurposing it into something usable, or maybe even putting it back into storage to deal with at another time.

Water cleans our clothes and our souls.

(even the extra dirty, smelly stuff)

I believe it is found in

the baptismal font

the sacramental cup

in

believing

 the Living Water

As a child I often fell asleep on sheets that had been hung outside on a clothes line to dry. I love seeing clothes and linens, washed clean and air drying in the sun. Nothing is cleaner. Turns out our neighborhood doesn't allow clothes lines... we are all missing out. 

I think I got my best sleep on those sheets...

Breathe

As a child I had the experience of having the wind knocked out of me.

 I can still remember the panicky sense of feeling like I couldn't breathe. 

Image

"Breathe," says my yogi.

"Breathe," says my personal trainer.

"Take a deep breath," says my doctor.

"Better breath control," said my band director.

"Just Breathe," sings Anna Nalick.

"I love watching you breathe," I whispered to my babies.

God breathed the breath of life;

and man became a living soul.

(Genesis 2)

Breathing in is in-spiration.

It is beautiful to me that God breathed life into us.

His inspiration continues to

bring life to us 

when we create

when we serve

when we love

when we live

i will catch my breath

i will breathe a sigh of relief

i will save my breath

i will savor a breath of fresh air

i will allow my breath to be taken away

by

beauty

joy

love

by
life

Dreaming

I love dreams - I frequently wake up trying to remember the details. I lie in bed during the wee hours of the morning and think. I think about what my subconscious might be working through or trying to process. I think about the symbolic nature of dreams and consider what different people or places or activities might have represented. I think about the patterns that present themselves and wonder what they might be telling me.

I wonder about the questions that my dreams might be asking or answering.

I sleep with someone who often falls asleep thinking about a problem and wakes up with an answer. It happens so often that I am surprised that it still surprises me. The problems are usually work related -- I'm not sure how he goes about billing clients for his time, when he works their problems out in his dreams.

His answers are concrete and solid. The answers my dreams provide are brief glimpses and flashes of insight. They are silvery glimmers viewed through gossamer. There is nothing left to hold.

Every once in a while I am left with something more substantial.

I try to hold onto it as long as I can.

Turning it over in my mind,

trying it on,

thinking it through.

Sometimes it only lasts for minutes,

sometimes for hours,

sometimes longer.

A recent dream provided a thought that I want to plant in fertile soil, water, weed and carefully tend this year.

I'm not going to have it stamped into sterling silver,

I'm not going to wear it around my neck or wrist.

I'm not going to paint it

or etch it

or turn it into vinyl lettering.

I will however hold on to it

not too tightly

but just tight enough

I will turn it over in my mind.

I will try it on,

and I will think it through.

Courage

I recently purchased this mixed media painting and collage from an amazing artist, Kandy from Bit O' Whimsey (an Etsy store). It was a gift to myself and I have to say...

I Love It

I love

the style

the young woman

the colors

the words

and

what

they

mean

to

me

.

.

.