Why you'll find me wearing bike shorts and other weird stuff...

One of my favourite meals to eat out is breakfast. There is nothing more lovely than a pot of hot tea, some scrambled eggs and thick toast that someone else has prepared for me first thing in the morning....sitting with the paper, chatting with hubby or merely watching the world go by... it is truly a delightful way to start the day.

Over the years, whilst partaking in such culinary excursions, I have often seen groups of cyclists that migrate to cafes to socialise and savour a few of the calories they have no doubt just earned themselves.

To be honest, whilst scoffing my own eggs, I never really gave them too much thought, except to wonder why they all get so dressed up in full cycling gear and shoes just so they can go out for a leisurely Saturday morning ride. Why not just throw on some trackies and runners... surely that would be easier? 

Well, I have to confess... I know why they do what they do. 

I am becoming one of them.

A casual cycling invitation from a friend a few weeks back brought about the welcome realisation that riding is something I actually really enjoy and want to do more of. 

It had been at least 10 years since I rode a bike... probably more... but there is some truth to the cliche about getting back on a bike... you don't forget how to ride. What I have learned, though, is that riding for sport is a little different to jumping on the bmx with my brothers or riding a few blocks to get to school. 

There is stuff you really need.

The same stuff I have seen on all the cyclists around town.

Firstly, there is a very compelling rationale behind wearing padded bike shorts. I know they look anything but glamorous (and trust me, they make you feel as though you have a small towel wedged between your legs); however, the repercussions of spending 2 or more hours on a tiny bicycle seat cannot be underestimated. Need I say more?

Secondly, occasionally while riding, you have need of certain things...a chap stick... a tissue, perhaps... and there is nothing more frustrating than having to stop and unload your knapsack every time... thus, a cycling shirt with pockets in the back is really very useful. 

There are also certain obvious necessities... a helmet, a water bottle and somewhere to keep your phone and keys... but honestly, it does not end there.

There are arm warmers, ear warmers, leg warmers, riding glasses, wind jackets, gloves, cycling socks, spare tubes, standing pumps, mini pumps, riding shoes, clips... and a whole bunch of other things I had never even heard of until just a couple of weeks ago.

Despite the fact that some of the products available are definitely optional, they are created to make a cyclist's life more comfortable and to ensure that the ride is as efficient as possible. You can do it the hard way, or you can invest in a few accessories and actually enjoy the ride. I would hazard a guess that not too many keen cyclists can keep up with the long, regular rides without the protective and supportive gear...which is obviously why they all look the part. 

In order to get the full benefit of cycling, I am even considering buying riding shoes and pedals... (the full benefit being the fact that, apparently, riding with shoe clips equates to virtually NO cellulite. I am sold!)

I am going to get myself equipped for cycling.... but, more importantly, I am going to continue to press into the Word of God so that I am equipped for living....there will be hills to climb, valleys to coast down and obstacles to get around... I am going to need all the help I can get!

We are so quick to buy every available addition we can for hobbies and sports and the like, yet we so often attempt to ride through life without all of the accessories and benefits God has made available to us! There are so many promises in God's Word which encourage us and guide our way... He arms us with weapons to fight the enemies in our path and He clothes us in His righteousness. His love covers us and helps us to bounce back when we fall. 

And what is even better..... the beauty of God's equipment is that it doesn't make you look at all daggy or awkward. 

"Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits..." Psalm 103:2

Swapping Roles

Sometimes I'm not sure who is the wisest in this Mother/Son game... hoot hoot...

“The value of marriage is not that adults produce children, but that children produce adults.” - Peter de Vries

I was having an online chat with my friend Juliette today, she always inspires me – she home-schools her son, runs an inspirational book store and is soon to go to America to do a workshop based upon ‘Nurturing Spirituality in Children’, with author of said book, Peggy Joy Jenkins.

She is so excited about this her words danced off the screen and did a square dance in my lounge room!

I confessed to Juliette that I was struggling to nurture the spirituality in Monte, though I desperately wish I could.

By that I mean  I want to nurture what is natural and authentic about him before modern and pop culture influence him to such a degree that he starts to lose sight of the very soul that he is, now.

The last couple of days have been challenging to say the least.

I’m not sure whether it’s because Monte has entered a new phase of independence or if I am just losing the plot or a combination of the two but suffice it to say mayhem has a new address.

Every new phase Monte enters, I enter one as well.

Traditionally, you think of raising the child as the parent teaching all they know to this innocent little being, and it is the parent that is all wise and knowing- but it is the opposite, my God it is the opposite.

I am the student and Monte is the teacher, massively.

In the last couple of days Monte has really been focusing on areas I need to develop: Patience and presence of mind.

To teach me these tough lessons he has come up with some really creative techniques.

1) Running around house with enormous knife from the dishwasher

2) Climbing onto Dining Table and standing up on it laughing

3) Eating a crayon

4) Using a pencil to eat an apple

5) Smudging yogurt on the couch

6) Screaming like he is auditioning for the Exorcist when I take something away from him or put him in the car, or … want him to go back to sleep at 5am.

So far, I have failed both my exams and my assignments in patience. In fact, I got a big fat D and a little note saying “You really need to cultivate presence of mind and patience, while Monte teaches you about these things, you are simultaneously teaching him through your reactions. See if you can rework them”

Since getting my D yesterday, of course, I have done what all failing Mothers do – berate themselves with the “I’m no good as a Mother,” “Why did I react how I did?” “I’m a horrible person” and yes, there have been some tears shed and some arms flung into the air with “I don’t know how to do this!”

But, thanks to Juliette and that fabulous quote she sent my way just when I needed it – I have looked for the lessons from Monte.

I am onto him, I am going to do a right back at ya lesson and show him that I can be patient, I can be present (and I can put the knives somewhere out of his reach).

I am going to be grateful that he has shone a light on areas that need improving and I am going to rise to the challenge by consciously improving them.

Sure, I could keep my arms flung in the air and keep the mantra ” I am no good at this” or I can embrace the challenge and cultivate what needs cultivating.

If I can pull this together and turn my impatience into patience and my non-presence into presence – I will be able to look Monte in the eye and confidently say “So, who is the teacher now?”

For more Sharnanigans please visit my website 

365 Lessons-Lesson 137: Be Kind

My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. -Dalai Lama

Why is so hard to be kind? Why do we choose hate over love?

I have opened myself up here. I've let myself out of the box and it was not easy. For the most part, I have found kindness. But I have also sensed other emotions. The tug and pull of others upon us is really only the tug and pull of ourselves. It's very hard to love someone whose mission seems to be to point a finger and destroy all that is in you that is good. But I find that compassion for myself and others is what is really needed. I think of how many times this has occurred in history.

Saints, sages, political figures, common folk who dared to be different, but were shunned for being who they are. Some crucified, hanged, cursed and hated for only wanting good. I don't know what is wrong with wanting and feeling joy, peace, love, and happiness and wanting to share these with others. What is in human nature that makes us want to hate these beautiful things in others? Why can't joy be shared? Why are we afraid to honor and appreciate the successes of others knowing that we are not really separate from one another, we are one in the same. What makes people turn green with envy and want to shut others out of their lives completely. What makes a person say, "I will never forgive you, forever." Forever rolling in their own misery.

It takes a very compassionate person to love the one who wants to kill them. How do you muster up this compassion? How do you replace hate with love? How do you love the one who silently hates? Or an even harder question, how do you love the one who verbally and physically hates?

So I keep practicing. Just keep going inside. Just keep loving. I give all the love in the world to myself. I give all the kindness in the world to myself. If I can't love myself with every ounce of my being and give kindness and gentleness to myself with every ounce of my being, how can I love the world? How can I find room in my heart to love the one who is hurting so much that all they can do is inflict that hurt on others, however subtly?

Fortunately, I've also found love, peace and kindness to be contagious. There are more people who would rather share these feelings. You never know how your presence will affect another, but if what you feel, say and do feels right to you and you feel good, chances are others will too. I received a postcard in my college mailbox that had the Chinese character for kindness on it. I was surprised. The person who gave it to me hardly knew me, but I had invited my colleagues to partake in a party at my house and she felt thankful. The Chinese character for kindness shows the symbol for person combined with the number two symbolizing benevolence, the essential kindness one person shows another. This is what was written on the card:



So I'm going to keep walking with this love in me. I'm going to keep shining this light. I'm going to keep being kind.

Also on my blog Lessons from the Monk I Married

365 Lessons-Lesson 135: Express Your Inner World Through Art

Today was an art and yoga workshop at Yoon's Yoga Bliss, my husband's yoga school. It was a beautiful day outside but six of us gathered inside to do art and yoga. My best friend from elementary school, Helena Hillinga Haas, is an art therapist. My husband is a yoga teacher. They combined their talents to bring us all inward and bring the art that is within us out.

We started out by doing simple yoga asanas to help tune us in to the process. We meditated a bit before we started creating. There was not much instruction once we started. One by one, we got up and silently went to the art table to collect supplies that resonated with us. There were pieces of paper with circles on them. If we wanted to, we could create a mandala. The circular shape of the mandala helps to center the mind.



It was a very intuitive process. People worked silently for an hour and were very engaged. The hour flew by so fast, I hardly realized time passing. I think we were all in the moment.



When we finished, we all stood in a circle and meditated on what we had just created. Then, we slowly walked around the circle and stopped at each person's creation and took it in. It was amazing to see how different each work of art was. It truly showed the diversity of each of us.

We closed the class with a short meditation. It was very nice to share yoga, meditation and art in a lovely yoga studio today. I feel that by tuning into the creative process, we can learn so much about ourselves and others. It was a wonderful experience.

Raining Acorns

     I do not believe the saying “into everyone’s life a little rain must fall.” To say “I believe” means I have the choice to not believe, to disbelieve the saying. The reality is, whether the physical rain or the metaphorical rain of life’s challenges and disappointments, rain, yes, will fall. In the end, it is not a matter of belief or disbelief. The rain, simply, is and the nature of rain is to fall.
     I may not like it and pout or rail against the rain. Alternatively, I may embrace it with the fullness of hope. To curse or question the rain that falls and not also mourn the seed’s husk that is shattered, when the sprout seeks the sun, suggests my focus is not so much on the nature of rain or growth but what happens next, what I see. One rains on my picnic and I’m not pleased. The other, the seed’s husk cracking wide upon, is masked and unnoticed by the beauty of the flower. I do not tell the acorn that is shattered, so that the oak may grow, that into every acorn’s life a little rain must fall. No, it is the wonder of the beauty and strength that springs from the tiny seeds and acorns that arouses the poet’s heart.
     Do I dare to think both are the same- rain and the husks of seeds?

[also posted on blog]

Go confidently...

Yeah, I wrote a book. You can see the nifty cover to the right of his post. (Located on my blog page) Nice reflective cover representing the material. Paid a guy to that. A year’s worth of work went into that little project right there.


Now I am not here to sell it today. True, I would enjoy seeing a copy or two float off into other’s hands. But again, not why I am here.

I was speaking with my wife yesterday on the “state of the union” of where my book stands. This nebulous project that kept me still, focused, and challenged since this time last year has been this odd, somewhat unspoken subject between us. Perhaps she wonders if I wrote of her. Maybe she wonders if it is a narcissistic memoir slamming those nemeses that challenged me which I victoriously slayed. Maybe she doesn’t get it, this whole writing gig. Maybe she doesn’t care. The only thing she mentioned was she hoped it brought in some bank.

Momentarily I reflected as she left the room how it would feel to become this mysterious, successful author who would sit in reflection in front of a window of an old home, sweater with the patches on the elbows adorning me, spewing words, randomly accepting and tossing appearances as my bank account grew. Ahhh...

Quickly that faded. Back to the present there turbo–don’t put the cart before the horse.

As I came to completion of this dream I have had for nearly two decades, I reflected on a few things. For one, I wrote a book dammit. I wanted to write a book, I wrote a book. Mission accomplished! I sat for hours. I wrote hundreds of pages longhand, then placed them on a laptop, and then to a desktop, adjusting, thinking, editing, manipulating text to become what I felt was my music. I was the only one listening, and I liked my song.

The satisfaction in doing this little endeavor was originally to simply journal thoughts I wish my kids would know, or know about me should I ever leave this world too early to tell them. I wanted my kids to have a personal slice of me they could sample at their whims at any point in the future where I was not able to tell them directly. Another mission accomplished. It was originally for them, not me. It just evolved organically.

I see that I had a void and I have now filled it. I had a gesture I wished to extend to my kids, and now not only do I have the original, but a printed book my kids can read and forever hear the voice of their daddy should God take me home tomorrow. I did something very challenging and time consuming I set out to do. Something that the little voice in me told me I probably could not do. Something many may have the desire to do, but let life get in the way. The same type of life I had to navigate to find the time to follow my dream. If I knew exactly when I may die, I may have waited to start this project, but I do not have that luxury. Go confidently...

What I found that whenever I placed any importance on how many copies I will sell, or how many people will read, or if Oprah will wave a copy at her flock, I am cheapening my dream by placing my accomplishments’ value in the opinion of others. True, who wouldn’t love for the Grande Dame herself to give your book a nod and then your heart’s desire no longer be in question. However I see that now I am extremely fulfilled I did what I set out to do; once being a character defect I often shrugged. I refuse to let what I have done thus far be diminished if my “numbers” are not strong.

Of course I would love to see my message shared by others in the context of how it has affected their lives. I would love to be a “finger pointing the way” so-to-speak. Making a buck or two would also be a nice perk no doubt. But this dream I consider accomplished, and I will simply revel in the fact I did something I love, am passionate about, and can share. My message here and now? To share the hope that others can do what I did. What is your dream left undone?

I like the fact that I realized the engaging of the dream, the pursuit of the dream, and the completion of the dream is where the reward is personally. To release it to others for adoration and capital gain is another venture. I consider it “marketing” of the dream–a by-product mind you. I do not place any validation of the success of the dream on the acceptance of it by others as much as the value of the fact that I am happy with my work, and that I did it when I thought I couldn’t. Therein lies the reward that will forever remain enduring and more valuable that monetary gain. Again I ask, “What is your dream left undone?”

I like the quote by Dr. Wayne Dyer where he states, “Don’t die with your music still in you.” (I will let that marinate in you for a moment.) With every tick of the clock passes a missed opportunity to set sail upon your life’s potential. Sing your song and unfurl your canvas my friends as those ticks are precious.

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.
                                                                         ~ Henry David Thoreau  (1817-1862)

* (Oprah, my contact info can be found to the right and scroll down a bit!)

    *Note - Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit - so I apologize for
      the mentions in the beginning of the post of items on my blog!

It isn't Writer's Block

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I've been on a break of sorts from blogging recently. Nothing has been wrong to cause this. Life, as it often does, has gotten in the way to a certain extent. Beyond that, however, I've had an extended 'moment' of...something. I have said it before and it bears repeating that I am not a daily blogger. I write when inspiration strikes and enjoy that particular personal rhythm, as it works for me in my own peculiar manner. When inspiration doesn't strike, I simply don't write. Again, it works for me. It is, however, a bit unusual for inspiration to be on such an extended vacation. What I have discovered, over the years, is that this isn't Writer's Block, per se. For me, it is a pause of sorts...a pause, a breath held for long moments, waiting for magic to enter. And it always does.


Most writers would label this the creeping monster of doubt known as the aforementioned and dreaded Writer's Block. I don't identify it as that, but I will admit to being quite aware of a different pace of sorts causing a hitch in my normal writing rhythm. I also admit that as time stretched on with no familiar burning need to write thoughts out in blog article format, I did begin to question what was taking place. Being the researching, analyzing personality that I am, I studied this experience from all angles. Poked at it. Nudged it sideways. Shifted it a fraction of an inch that way, then back again. Walked away from it for days only to return and regard it through occasionally narrowed, contemplative eyes.

Finally, this morning, I had had enough. Time to joust with this unruly, temperamental, irregular jog to my writing stride. "Don't worry so much, just sit down and write," I have often suggested to writing students that I have coached. I know this to be a valuable bit of advice, as it can be helpful to knock loose the logjam of thoughts in every writer's mind. Once you begin writing, it can magically open up the floodgates and inspiration once more comes rushing forward. So, adopting a 'physician, heal thyself' philosophy, I began musing with much more intent than I have implemented in the past month. And suddenly, before even setting fingertips to keyboard to begin the writing process, the thought occurred.

Perhaps we have all inaccurately tossed the cold, sterile phrase of Writer's Block around as a throwaway concept. Perhaps it isn't a block at all. I have written in a past blog about the concept of useful limbo, as I experienced that very thing in the recent past. I believe there are definitely moments in our lives where God/Universe intentionally isolates us in order to forcefully focus our minds in a direction we would otherwise never have time to notice and open up to. This, I boldly suggest, is that ephemeral moment, that opening up to allow magic to flow and embrace the writer's mind.

I have been experiencing what I would now identify as a mini-useful-limbo stage. It definitely has not been a block of any kind in regard to writing, as my mind and imagination have been as fertile and active as they always are. Indeed, there are stacks and lists and jotted notes in abundance waiting to be completed and given voice in blog format. They just aren't ready yet. My mind, my Spirit has been attending to another task. And in the process, I have stumbled across the novel concept - to me, at least - that there truly is no such thing as 'writer's block' in the concrete sense of the description. How liberating for writers the world over to revise their definition of this moment when their pens refuse to write, when the thoughts refuse to flow, when inspiration is elusive....it is not a block, it is a sabbatical!

By definition, as is my wont and love of words:

Webster's Dictionary describes the word 'sabbatical' as 1) an adjective, meaning of or relating to a sabbatical year; or as 2) a noun, meaning a leave or break or change from a normal routine or employment; or again as 3) a noun, meaning a year of rest for the land observed every seventh year in ancient Judea. (http://www.merriam-webster.com/)

I think we are all aware that life is a series of neverending cycles, of beginnings, middle stages and endings. Curiously, I have noted over the years that my own life tends to run on periods of 5 - 7 year cycles. I recognized a little over two years ago that I was in the midst of a new cycle and with that huge chunk of grander change, I am also aware that there are mini-cycles taking place. This most recent one has been that sabbatical of sorts where, I am now aware, my psyche has been doing some necessary shifting. Adjusting, realigning, perhaps disposing of certain patterns that no longer serve me well, and embracing new patterns that have fresh, strong purpose. This is an inward journey for some, and others choose to physically travel the world and discover themselves outwardly.

All of this is time consuming, but while I am in the midst of the process, time seems to slow down and stretch, as though I am in a slight time warp. Where normally I might be jittery and a bit impatient, not wanting to lose momentum with my blog following, the stronger pull has been to honor this mini-sabbatical. In the back of my mind, something is resonating softly but with bright purpose and I know it requires clear energy and full attention to bring it together into a cohesive melding. Do I know what all this means? No, I really don't. That may sound a bit off kilter, as I have dedicated a full blog post to talking about what I am experiencing.

I guess I could've whittled this down to a few simple paragraphs that said I have recently taken a mini-sabbatical from blog posts. It would be true, but it wouldn't have allowed me to go on this winding trail of self-discovery. It also wouldn't have allowed me to write this stream of consciousness that I often find turns out some true gems. And to be a bit self-deprecating, I admit it wouldn't have been half as much fun, half as enjoyable as sharing my thoughts in this manner, here, with you. I like to think that many of my friends and readers enjoy going on these jaunts with me in written format, meandering the long way around and about the proverbial Back 40 before reaching the destination. Some days that destination is clear and I know where we'll end up, but more often the journey brings me to a different 'home' each time.

As I'm writing this, part of my mind is noticing that this post bears quite strong resemblance to a couple of past posts. My writer's preference is to never repeat myself - it's just a personal peeve, but this time I'm going to go ahead and give this one voice. I am posting it because I recognize that sometimes repetition occurs in our lives for the very simple purpose of imprinting a lesson. Commonly held belief is that doing something 21 times creates a pattern of habit in our brains. I cannot argue with the thought that a bit of repetition on a common theme in blog posts might help not only me, but maybe click for other people who read this post and compare it to past blog posts that have been steps in this mental reflection of mine. So, I will write this one and post it and see where it resonates, and what results occur.

This time it has brought me to the realization that for me, at least, right this moment in this past month of curious inactivity from a writing standpoint, it hasn't been writer's block. It has been a spiritual sabbatical that has allowed my Soul to do some honing and refining. Where I will admit that I was beginning to question the possibility of some true manifestation of blocking, instead I sit here, writing and smiling as I embrace a much friendlier, useful description. Not writer's block. Instead, a pause for magic! Maybe a lull...but better adapted as a sabbatical. I like it, and I think it will become a new phrase in my personal library.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.