Holi Garden

  

Holi Garden

This is our third April without Bharat in his garden, our third April not discussing when we’ll attend Holi celebrations; an Indian holiday marking the arrival of spring.  

Holi was Bharat’s favorite holiday, followed closely by Christmas. He’d tell us stories of his youth in Mumbai, chasing after girls he had a crush on, brightly colored powder clenched in his palms, enjoying the hiatus from a typically forbidden touch, as he smudged a bit of blue or red on a nose, a cheek.

“That’s kinda creepy,” I snorted.

“It wasn’t like that!” he protested.  “We were kids!” 

Memories of our last Holi together as a family resurface and I remember us smeared with colored powder, mouths wide with laughter, filling our river guns, ready to spray our next unsuspecting victim. After the festivities, stomachs full of dosa and samosa, we run shivering to the car, spread towels over the seats, and yell at each other (over the ear-splitting Bollywood tunes Bharat blasts on the cd player), about who gets to shower first when we arrive home. I remind Arjun and Taara to go through the garage to hose off in the back first so they don’t track all that messy, colored powder (turned wet paste) through the house. In the hours and days following, even after two or three scrubbings, a bit of pink remains in their ears or green stays in their hair - such sweet reminders of our playful abandon.    

Now, as I sit tossing balls to our pups in the backyard, I see nature mirror those very colors: intoxicating white orange blossoms, lavender wisteria, and yellow, pink, and peach roses pose next to green tipped calla lilies. Orange cannas (just like the ones blooming near my in-laws home in Chennai) peek from the corner by the shed. Even my neighbor's bottle brush tree wants to be included - the red, spiny blossoms bending low over the fence.  Above it the jacaranda also leans in as the towering palm stands behind.

Only a few of those rose bushes lined the back fence when we moved in at the end of December, 1996. Bharat had lobbied hard for this house because he saw potential in the garden.  I know he thought about growing bougainvillea and Australian tea trees almost as much as he thought about growing our family with children and dogs; filling us up and all around with beauty - a beauty neither of us had known as children.  We talked about manifesting unconditional love.  Safety. Joy. Acceptance. We planted a vision of home. 

Slowly, slowly - with trips to Home Depot and Orchard Supply Hardware and Summerwinds Nursery - the garden took shape and form.  Bharat moved the hydrangeas, plying them with various titrations of nitrogen in the weeks before Memorial Day and July 4th - coaxing them to take on the red, white, and blue. He found purple agapanthus for the back and white for the front (where Taara and he had sown a ‘moonlight’ garden filled with flora in gradations of white).  When I begged for a bird of paradise, he put one in.  After our trip to Giverny, he purchased the purple lily bulbs and we waited for their sensual arcs and buds.   Hanging pots dripped with pink and purple fuchsia as well as spindly spider plants.  Ochre cymbidium, tiny, fat succulents, and a lone, carefully trimmed bonsai lined the back patio.  We sat back and marinated in our success, we grinned like idiots, we sighed. 

Twice a year Bharat exhorted us to attend the Baliga-Savel cocktail party - fertilizer cocktail, that is.  Bone meal, ironite, and manganese are some of the ingredients I recall.  We formed a bucket brigade: I stirred the mixture (using a recipe Bharat had clipped from the San Jose Mercury News), while one of the other three came to retrieve it and shoveled the contents under each plant.  As much as we might have grumbled at first, the Beatles or ABBA cheered us, there was laughter, the work was done, we felt satisfied and looked smug.  

These are the recollections in which I attempt to ground myself. The April sun on my face forces me to close my eyes and the warmth evokes gratitude for the various healing balms in my life : family and friends loving me through (and despite!) my prickly moodiness, my children giving and accepting love, the dogs doling out licks and happily receiving cuddles. And this profusion of flowers Bharat so lovingly planted begins to build the smallest of bridges across my loss, mending me.

Divali 2020

 November 14, 2020

Some scholars state that Valmiki’s Ramayana does not feature the scene where Lakshmana draws the protective circle around Sita before he reluctantly leaves her (at her behest) to find Rama.  But it’s the circle version with which I’m most familiar and I always chewed on : yeah, to keep Sita safe, but also to keep her locked in. Knowing my thoughts on this tale, Bharat relished saying to me: “Sita! Don’t cross the line!”, giving me a kiss, and heading out to work. He’d smile as I’d burst out laughing every single time.  As I write this letter on Divali, I miss him terribly.  Today he would have been exhorting Taara to take out the colored chalk to draw kollam on the front walkway and buying pedas at Trinetra because he wasn’t crazy about my rava kesari. Though this is my second Divali without him (I barely remember the first), we just lost my sweet mother-in-law in July. We won’t light lamps or sweeten each other's mouths this year either.

Twenty-one months have passed since Bharat left us. Some folks told me the second year would be harder than the first and this has been true in my experience. The first year was fog-filled, mechanical. This second year has been one long, painful ache punctuated by staccato, piercing moments - awareness of the permanence -he is gone. Forever. As we move from Divali into Thanksgiving and then Christmas, I’m filled with thoughts of how much Bharat loved and honored these holidays. Around the Thanksgiving table, he’d ask us to talk about the things for which we were grateful.

Thank you to family and friends who never left me and stay by me still.  Please know I’m so moved and bolstered by each text, phone call, package, card, Zoom, visit, and gentle nudge to venture a bit further out of my comfort zone.  Thank you for loving me through (and despite!) my prickliness and moodiness. 

Here, we are grateful for an election result which will require so much healing but also feels hopeful.  And while we might not be on the same page about everything, having a woman named Kamala as VP feels miles away from being called the N word when I was growing up. A balm. 

The children and pups are well.  Sweet Raani turned 15 on 10/31.  She’s still got it going on, but we sometimes find her staring vacantly at the wall -which is simultaneously endearing and sad. We give her lots of cuddles.  Lassi is not the terror she used to be, but also not fully rehabilitated :)  While she continues to play well with others and is very loving, she won’t stop eating poop!

Taara lives here with me, takes classes remotely through Sonoma State, and works 30 hours/week at Bass Pro Shops.  She’s astonishing! Lucky for us she’s a wonderful communicator and we’re successfully navigating the move from parent/child to parent/young adult-roomie (who’s still my baby!). 

Arjun seems very happy at the University of Maryland.  He’s got some good research going on (and as of yesterday, his very first publication on which he is first author!), lovely advisor, wonderful classes, and maintaining fabulous relationships near and far.  He’ll be home for a couple weeks around Thanksgiving and we’re excited! I’m grateful he makes sure to reach out via text and calls a few times a week.  We look forward to visiting him there one day.  

...when we can visit - which brings me to COVID-19.  I’m grateful that we’ve been able to remain safe and healthy (touch wood) and am so saddened by all those we’ve lost and will lose. Praying for successful vaccines, but also for the distribution of those vaccines to all. I understand that these holidays will be so very difficult for folks and I’m very sorry for that loss of ritual and connection many people will feel this year.

In my world, where one of the worst things has already happened to me, COVID precautions seem a small inconvenience.  I understand that this is also because I have a roof over my head, health insurance, my health, my children, Amma, sujatha, Jason, and Sathya are fine, and two jobs I am grateful to be able to do from home. So, I don’t know when my exile from joy will be over and I don’t care.  But I have every faith that one day I’ll feel compelled to follow the lights back to myself, back home.

Owning It

"Anti-Blackness is an Asian American problem." - Amita Swadhin

Reading this sentence a few days ago knocked me on my ass.  For several days prior, like many of us, these Black men and their families were in my head and on my heart:

Chris Cooper simply birding in Central Park and a White woman calling police to falsely accuse him of "threatening her life." Mr Cooper asked her to put her dog on a leash. They were in an area of the park where dogs are not allowed.

Ahmaud Arbery jogging and then murdered in Georgia.  The White men who shot him thought he was trespassing and that he fit the description of someone who'd been perpetrating crimes in the neighborhood.

George Floyd murdered by a police officer in Minneapolis. Police were called because a shop owner believed Floyd was trying to pass a counterfeit $20 bill.

Anti-Blackness in an Asian American problem.

Do you know how many times I've had the police called on me because I asked someone to leash their dog? Zero.

Do you know how many times I've had the police called on me because I was taking a walk and wandered onto someone else's property?  Zero.

Do you know how many times I've had the police called on me because I've used a counterfeit $20 bill?  Zero.

Do you know how many times I've worried about my safety or my life when I was doing all of those things (because I have actually done all those things).  Zero.

I have privilege and that's why I have not worried.

I'm being asked to look deeply at very uncomfortable issues and my conscience is not letting me turn away.  So here's me, calling myself out and reflecting on what I've seen and said and perpetrated. I've kept myself apart and distant.  I've been silent and therefore, complicit.

I am privileged and I benefit from this privilege. AND I have been hurt, too.  Both of these things can exist simultaneously.  If I come clean about my privilege and the role I play in the oppression of Black individuals, that's one step toward healing our community.  Holding myself accountable matters.

We've seen the lists of Black people harmed and murdered.  We've seen the lists of what we can do to help.  What I can do today is speak out. I'm not looking for absolution, not just because that's not the point of my writing these words, but because that absolution won't help, isn't deserved.  Centering me and making me feel better is not why I'm writing these words.

I understand that this is not happening to me.
I understand that I am not Black and have not suffered the types and degrees of oppression Black people have suffered.
I hope that I have always presented and acted as an ally to members of the Black community.
Here's one tiny way I can stand with : by speaking out about the fact that just because I haven't sought out privilege, doesn't mean I haven't benefited from it. Now that I've said those words out loud, what will I do?

Now that you've read my words, what will you do? Protest? Speak out? Donate your money and/or time? Sit with this information and really chew on it?  Whatever you choose to do, please don't turn away.

Fat in the Time of Corona

I'm fat.  Just sit with that information a moment and notice how comfortable or uncomfortable you feel about my revelation.  Are you angry with me  ("Why did she have to say that?? I don't want to read this crap!")?  Do you want to give me a hug ("She looks so pretty!  Why would she say that about herself?")?  Are you wondering why the heck I'm talking about this right now ("Is she seriously going to talk about herself and being fat at a time like this??")?

Honestly, I was just being a bit cheeky with the title and an allusion to Garcia Marquez's gorgeous work.  The titles have the same number of syllables and a similar, odd juxtapositioning of two concepts: fat/corona and love/cholera  In this lifetime, I wouldn't compare myself to Garcia Marquez. I'm just a fangirl.  But in the process of looking up what he meant by the book title, I learned some crazy stuff.

Garcia Marquez wrote Love in the Time of Cholera because he'd been inspired by Dafoe's 1722 novel A Journal of the Plague Year. Set in 1665, it's a journal of one man living in London during the bubonic plague.  Yes, I went down that rabbit hole.  Yes, it's available for free online - like, the whole book!  Yes, I'm amazed that I bumped into this information about bubonic plague while researching something I thought was completely unrelated, while we ourselves are all going through....but I digress.

Fat.  At nearly 54, I'm ok with most things about me.  So I'm not writing about my weight to be exhorted to love myself nor hear inspiration to work out (I do both!).  Nor am I fishing for compliments - I know I'm beautiful inside and out, blah, blah,  blah.  (I've been looking at myself on Zoom for four years.  Not four months, four years. I'm captivating, adorable, thoughtful, and have a great smile). Thanks, though.  I was married to a man who loved me and loved how I looked no matter what I weighed. What a true gift in a life partner.

No, see, food is in my head right now because I caught myself complaining about how all the snacks in my home taste like cardboard: Ak-mak crackers, gluten-free pretzels, Reduced Fat Wheat Thins and hummus, low-fat granola, and Vatana (peas) from the Indian store.  Beyond lackluster snacks, I have a wide array of delectable, yet uber-healthy produce from the farmers' market: Cara-Cara Oranges, Gala apples, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, blueberries, strawberries... and all organic too.  Truly a dietician's dream....but not 'fun' food!

While this is not true of every person, I am overweight because I live here and I have the money to purchase this food and consume more of it than my body needs or probably should have.  Wow.  The ultimate 'first world problem', huh?  And food is also on my mind because I saw those images of food bank lines.  People here in America need food.  That simply astonishes me.  Before the pandemic, I think the stat was something like 1 in 7 children in America went to bed hungry.  Here in our country. I'm sure that stat is worse now. 

Regardless of what we weigh, we can take a minute or two to help.  Today, I'm going to visit the Second Harvest Food Bank website and make a donation.  But next time I go to the store, I'll pick up some extra cans of beans or soup to donate.  I have friends who volunteer at food banks every week and they report that donations are way down. I'll also be mindful when I sit down to my meals and be grateful for every bite.

*Note: in response to last week's post in which I whined about not having chocolate in the house, a very, very sweet high school classmate sent a beautiful box of chocolates from Olympia Candy Kitchen (a favorite spot from our youth).  I'm so grateful for her thoughtfulness, the chocolate itself, and that she'd help a business, which we hold close in our hearts, to stay open.  Wooo-hooo!

Corralling the M's

This week my m's toggled between muddled and misanthrope.  Remember those hopeful m's from last week? Those m's were gonna get us through and we'd be #AllInThisTogether!  Except, to be frank the only thing those m's made me think about was more m's....then chocolate - which was not especially helpful, as we have none in the house (by the end of this post, you may come to the conclusion that this chocolateness is solely responsible for all my issues and I may not disagree with you. And the probability is high that by the time I hit 'publish', chocolate will have been obtained).

To recap/intro: the m's (which I appropriated from some nice psychologist on the radio) are the four (supposedly helpful) conditions we can explore while staying at home.
Mastery :  being creative or learning something new -not stressing ourselves out with unrealistic goals, but rather, being joyful in our creativity
Mindfulness : meditation or breath observation, for example
Moving our bodies : walks/runs/treadmills/yoga/aerobics/stretching
Mental health (this is the m I couldn't remember exactly, but it seems to fit in nicely with the others and is most pertinent to my current reality): connecting with friends via phone/Zoom or seeing a therapist

My fourth m really took a nosedive recently.  That cute kid we heard from in these very pages last week: I yelled at her.  Via text. Ugh.  I'm not going to call her out, just myself.  She didn't do a certain thing I needed her to do. I got irrationally angry and sent two very long texts (she was on the phone with a friend and I didn't want to embarrass her by scolding in public) which were words I should have said more lovingly, in person.  #Misanthrope.  There were tears and hugs and professions of accountability from both of us, but not my finest Amma moment.  Other examples: unwarranted eye rolls adjacent to the mouthy grocery clerk and wanting to punch a gas pump until my knuckles bled because the receipt roll was out (yes, I still print receipts at the pump, what's it to you? Just back up! And if I hear a single "Ok, Boomer...", I swear to....). 

#Muddled : I mean do I even have to? I'll just hit some highlights: where are my keys? Oh yeah, in the freezer, obvi.  Is that when we were meeting? These aren't technically pajama bottoms...and this is a liquor store, so quit judging! (maybe this example fits better under misanthrope.  Except I didn't remember I was wearing the not-quite-pajama bottoms when I ran out of the house, so there's that...).  Wondering if Cream of Wheat is ok for dinner.  Trying to open the garage door by pressing the interior car light button, then becoming angry that this method isn't working. Buying Halo Top instead of real ice cream and then flipping out because we don't have ice cream - which is a food I don't even eat but twice a year (this is not a virtue, ice cream just makes my teeth hurt. And don't talk to me about letting it melt...you are not helping).  That last example is muddled misanthrope, isn't it?

So that's it.  No wise words from sweet children.  No exhortations, nor calls to do, well, anything.  Just saying: I'm here with you - cranky, missing keys, pajama bottoms, and all.  But things are looking up: now I have the chocolate :)

Excuse Me

Today, I'm honored to share this space with my lovely daughter Taara, an 18 year old freshman at Sonoma State University.  As I continue to work with students, I've been asking her to contribute some wisdom about excuses and how she stays motivated when so many assessments have shifted from letter grades to pass/fail or credit/no credit. Why bother? What's the point? What's an ok excuse and what's just rubbish? (I literally never use the word 'rubbish, so I'm  not sure why I said that). I asked her to dig into these questions with me and she graciously agreed.  Here's a portion of our conversation:

Desi Amma: Thanks for agreeing to appear in this guest spot!  Did my threatening you with cutting off Netflix unless you complied have anything to do with your decision?

Taara: Oh gosh, no......

DA: No, you didn't realize that was a threat or no, that didn't influence your talking to me?

T: No, you're my mom. I don't see you as a threat....and I don't think you'll cut off Netflix because you love it too much!

DA: Truth... so let's get started. What do you think about excuses in general?:

T: I think it depends.  It depends on the person and what the situation is.  Excuses can be made out of laziness or not wanting to change behaviors.  Let's say someone is cheating on their partner and their excuse for cheating is : "I didn't know it was going to happen."  That's based on their own problems.  Another excuse one could make could be about not cleaning up their room.  That's me. I'm comfortable with it.

DA: In the first example, the excuse and behavior hurts/affects someone else.  In the second, the consequence is just on you.

T: Uh huh.

DA: Can you give an example of what might be a valid reason to be excused from something?

T: Ok, let's say someone had a family emergency and they weren't able to do their work.  You'd tell your teacher, "I couldn't finish my work because someone in my family got hurt" and hopefully the teacher will be reasonable about it.  Or if you're not feeling well and you have to tell your boss that you have to stay home so you don't infect others.

DA:  Both of those examples are legit excuses?

T: Yes.  There's a difference between having a valid excuse versus the consequences of your bad actions on others and yourself - that's when you're lying to others and yourself and that's not ok.

DA: What's your take on asking to be excused from certain commitments right now, in this moment?:

T: As stressful as it is right now, we do have responsibilities we have to take care of.  Or if people are feeling emotionally drained and not up to a task, that's ok.  It's a matter of your mental health and how bad it is. Everyone should take care of themselves.  I think one can be excused to a certain extent.  You still have to wake up every day and get out of bed, for your own body's sake.  But one should not lose themselves and you might cause permanent damage to yourself in this situation, which is just temporary.  So keeping up with daily routines and regimens and some commitments can be helpful right now.

DA:  Are you gearing up to tell me you're not going to do the dishes...?

T: (wry chortle)....I'd do them if you let me!  But you say I don't do them right!

DA: A topic for another day!  What might be some acceptable reasons to ask for special treatment at work and/or school?:

T: Mental health, family emergencies, children, spouse, money problems.  I guess anything that's part of your world that you have to take care of.  And if you don't take care of it, it's going to ruin something or someone.

DA: So let's say I'm capable of meeting most of my promises at work and/or school, how do I keep it up?  How do I motivate myself? I mean, what do you do?

T: Motivation doesn't always come when we want it to, sadly.  It will come in bursts and I think the time when we least have it, might be the time we should get up and do something.  I would say, find someone or something that's important to you and know that you have to wake up every day to take care of them, to help them.  And know that the lack of motivation won't last forever.  For example, I wake up and I know I have to help you, I do things for the dogs, I have to take care of some things in this house. I do it for Appa (dad). I kind of have those people to motivate me and keep me going when times are rough.  Because it's also not just about me but helping those around me. I can't just sit around all day doing nothing.

DA:  That's really lovely. But what would you suggest if a person can't get up out of bed and can't find the energy to do anything?  What do you think that means?

T:  Well, I think that if someone isn't even able to get out of bed, that reflects their mental health.  That could lead to depression and anxiety and other mental illnesses.  Acknowledging that those are the feelings you're having right now is the first step.  Then they might need to get help.

[PSA: The National Suicide and Prevention Lifeline - 1-800-273-8255]

DA: Yeah, that's perfect advice.  Don't be afraid to ask for help and/or ask someone how to access that help. Now if we can shift to school stuff : can you tell us what helps you keep focus and motivation when it must be so tempting to just coast?  Practically all your classes are pass/fail.

T:  CHOCOLATE!

DA: Relatable.  What else?

T: What keeps me focussed?  Knowing that my performance affects my future.  It's kind of like the butterfly effect: everything affects everything.  Plus there's not much to do right now, so it makes sense to focus on something other than being scared of the uncertainty.  I think my classmates are also sweet and kind and they help me focus.  They also make it more enjoyable.  Even though it's pass/fail right now, I wouldn't want to let myself down and it's not an excuse.  I had to learn that at a very young age. 

DA:  What happened when you were young?

T:  Just when I thought, I don't have that much homework or I don't have to pay attention that much or pay attention to my grades.  That's when I realized, it's important to get an education and I have a privilege being here.  Many people don't have the privilege to go to college like I do.

DA: So you think about those things when it's hard to get moving?

T: Uh huh. But don't be too hard on yourself, but also know when to push yourself.

DA:  What about getting your school work done? How do you do that?

T:  Managing your time properly is very important.  Like knowing when things are due.  Talking to your teachers/professors when you can. Have a calendar or planner because we tend to forget things.  And doing work ahead of time if you can.  It doesn't happen all the time,  but that's where managing your time comes in. Also knowing yourself and how much you can handle putting off work.  How much stress is that going to add to your day?

DA: Do you give yourself rewards or things to look forward to when you finish some work?

T: Some Netflix, YouTube, listening to music, just me time to clear my brain.  So yeah I do have some rewards but they're not really anything major.  Just taking a break. I could order something online if I wanted to....

DA:  Oh yeah, how ya gonna pay for that?

T: Well.....I know someone....

DA: "Someone"..... ahem.  So, what are some of your strategies?

T:  I take it one step at a time, take baby steps.  Let's get up, let's brush out teeth, take a shower.  Simple, daily routines that can jump start your day : go outside and get some Vitamin D, get some exercise, play the piano, sing, play with the dogs, get dressed up for no reason.  Finding something that can help you get stuff off your chest and relieve your emotions.

DA: What about reaching out to others?

T: Yeah.  You can talk to people, text people you haven't talked to in a long time.  For me personally, I FaceTime people - I think it adds more connection.  Doing little dates is really, really helpful - whether it's with your boyfriend/significant other or a friend.  It will make you feel less lonely.  Or talking to a therapist, like I said before.

DA:  Those all sound like such good ideas!  Any parting thoughts for people struggling to stay on top of their stuff?

T: I think we're all on the same page. You're not alone in that feeling. Take it one day at a time. One hour at a time. It's not easy,  but every day is a new chance to restart with a new attitude.

DA: You're adorable..Thank you so much!  That was awesome

T: (chuckle)  Uh huh - of course!

Coda: Yesterday on the radio, I heard someone talking about what we need to be doing and experiencing in order to get through these days.  She talked about the four m's:  mastery (being creative or learning something new - she was careful to say this activity should bring you joy and not stress), mindfulness (meditation and breath observation, for example), moving our bodies, and (here's the m that eludes me - maybe mental health?), connecting with others.  And I thought "we're doing those things!'  But if it were that simple, we'd have all cracked this 'stay at home' code and feel fabulous.  We're going to try to do most of those m's, most days. But some days, we won't. Perhaps we won't even have an excuse, and that's ok.

Love Notes from the non-Coronaverse....and Beyond

In the multiverse (of all the parallel universes), I believe there's a non-Coronaverse and that's where I'm trying to live, at least some of the time.  We can call that place  parts of my life.  From this vantage point, I can see that I'm irritating some people.  I'm blowing a bit of sunshine and I understand how that could be so annoying.  Sometimes I get on my own nerves and want to slap myself.   But sometimes, I'm kind and funny, so I'll try to channel that now.  Here are some love notes from my non-Coronaverse to whichever '-verse' you find yourself in at the moment:

You may be delighted/reassured/amused/annoyed to learn that I didn't acquire a single new skill nor talent this week!  I mean, I learned a bunch of stuff, stuck it in my brain for a minute, and then it promptly fell out.  Honestly, that last part is a relief because now I've made room to remember "important" things like grocery shopping and wearing a new, different pair of sweats every other day.

Taara kindly curated an exercise video for us and we gamely giggled through box steps and lunges to the tune of...I'm not sure what...bland, disco-y beats.  We appreciated that the instructor was easy on the eyes even though he was wearing bright red....is that...spandex..?  Okay. That's okay because he was so kind and exhorting us to  'keep going!' and 'you got this'! Plus, he'd chosen actual-sized women to show us how to take it up or down a notch in difficulty (we think this is just fabulous). But we threw caution to the winds and leveled up with actual DOGS throwing themselves in our paths! HA!  Bet you never thought of that Mr Spandex!

Speaking of the pooches: a sweet bit of information I learned about my pup Lassi (as in mango, not with an 'e' like : Timmy and....) is that she doesn't drool, snap, nor pull (as if she were a rabid cur) at every poor soul wearing a mask who strolls by. And she doesn't mind when Taara and I do, either (wear masks - not drool, snap, or pull -  just to be clear). Also my dogs don't seem to give a hoot that we're home all the time!  What's up with that? I now find myself in he awkward position of feeling jealous of the all the cat owners posting videos of their annoyed cats...because I'm jealous that my dogs don't seem to care...? Seriously, what is wrong with me? Also, I'm allergic to cats, so an extra dose of 'who cares?', right?

Last time, I'd mentioned that I wasn't watching/reading news.  Just as many of us are thinking: hmmmm....haven't we social-distanced long enough? (NO.  The answer is NO) I'm also thinking - can't I just watch a teensy bit of news? (Again, apparently the answer is NO) because I slowly began titrating some news-watching/reading back into my day with such whack effects : I began eye-rolling and heavy-sighing at the pups (the PUPS! I'm a monster) for the most reasonable requests: like needing to go out to potty or wanting a treat. Or when Lassi (you get that she's the trouble-maker) slunk off to the bathroom (which one of us had carelessly left open) to just have a wee nibble on the end of a toilet paper roll....which is clearly.....wait....WHAT?? (bounding inelegantly from the sofa) no, no, No, NO, NO, LEAVE IT, LEAVE IT!!!!

But at this moment, our spring celebrations are on my heart : Ugadhi, Nowruz, Easter, Holi, Vaisakhi, Passover, and Ramadan (to name a few).  Many of us have/will have to celebrate apart and I know that's so tough.  But we're doing our best, connecting as best we can, though we're not always succeeding.  In my non-Coronaverse, I'm forgiving myself for stumbling (during aerobics videos and just in life), hopefully (gracefully) allowing some people to catch me when I do, and really trying to gently hold others in whatever '-verse' they reside right now. 

Do Something Selfish Today

     We've been into this for - what now- seven days?  How did it start for you?  Pacing? Nail biting? Stress eating? Micromanaging?  Panic Buying? Ordering a brand new Le Creuset butter dish in Marseille blue....ahem, for example?

     Then started all the giving, right? Lovely articles on the generosity of the human spirit and people and companies writing big checks and we wept, didn't we?  I mean...I'm not crying, YOU are!  These stories are such a balm on the fear and sadness to which we're exposed in the news and all the directives as to what we must do.  I'm saturated, are you?  I turned off the news and I stopped reading all the things.  I'm doing all the medically and scientifically necessitated things because I care about others.  But I just don't have the capacity to take in any more instructions nor exhortations to give big.  I'm triaging my heart and mind right now because I have to.

     Losing my husband Bharat a year ago brought me up against the reality of what matters and what really doesn't.  What I can hold and what I can't.  My children and my pets depend on me and if I don't take care of myself, I won't be able to take care of them.  I went through a period early on after he passed when I thought it was a good day if I accomplished three things:
Fold and put away one load of laundry.
Go online and pay the property taxes.
Take a shower.
And I knew I could only do X because X + 1 was going to break me and that couldn't happen. 

     Each morning I would ask myself : What can I do today?  Just today?  I've been reminded of how I felt then as we all struggle with our current situation.  So I won't be one more voice today telling you what to do or how to give.  I'll just ask you a question or two:
What do you need today?
Are you able to give today?

     The answer to the first question might be a hot bath, a quiet fifteen minute nap,  a cup of tea, making soup while you blast AC/DC, or a slice of apple pie. 
     The answer to the second question might be "no".  I think it's really important to not beat ourselves up for whatever the answer to that question is today. Or tomorrow. Or next week or whenever.  For me, one day I woke up and said, I'm ready. And I gotta be honest : giving even in the tiniest of ways right now, has felt incredibly selfish and yummy! Tutoring for free, paid time off for a couple people who help me out, and cooking clean, healthy meals for our family are all ways it seems as though I'm doing something over which I have control when many things feel out of control.  Honestly, I'm doing it for myself.  My brain is releasing all the serotonin and dopamine and oxytocin and endorphins!  And I'm telling people about it so maybe they'll be selfish too. If you do something selfish today, let me know and we can crow about it together!  If you weren't able to, be gentle with yourself because there are plenty of days ahead to try.

Missing: Part 1

As we're deep into the season of college admit letters, decisions, happiness, heartbreak, limbo, and letters of intent, I'm posting some ramblings from a couple years ago when Arjun was leaving home for his freshman year.  I didn't publish this then because I was too sad.  Twenty months in, I still feel sad from time to time, but I'm currently typing with a smile on my face.

You were always moving away from me - rolling, crawling, tottering, walking, running, running, running.  When you were small and your neck smelled like sour milk, your hands sticky with peanut butter, you'd grab my sleeve before you fell on the tile.  Righting yourself awkwardly, you'd stumble away, then look back at me - clapping and screeching madly.  Sometimes, you'd come careening back around, hair flopping wildly, drool flowing down your chin.

But now it seems that I can barely remember the coming back and all I see is the constant going away.  Please stop. Please stand still.  Let me look at you.  All these angles out of chubby flesh. How did we get here? I mean, how are we at this moment - in this moment - right now? As I hear the first notes of "Pomp and Circumstance", I panic and I pull down on the neckline of my top which is nowhere near my neck.  That feeling of ratcheting toward the first drop on a rollercoaster ride: it's coming, no way to stop it, can't get off, excited, terrified.  I turn to Bharat, grab his hand and whisper, "I'm not ready...." and I start to miss you even before you've actually left.  I flash to a memory of you running - actually to a picture Taara edited of you running - everything is sepia: trees, dirt, sky, and the only color is the yellow of your uniform in the desolate landscape of Montgomery Hill.

I'm absolutely bereft in my well-completed task of shepherding you to college.  Now we are walking away from you - up Durant, turning the corner into the parking garage- and there is a physical jolt in my chest when I hear your text tone.  I feel panicked/delighted/sad that we've gone 100 feet away from you and you're texting.  Bharat stops walking and gives me a quizzical look. My eyes well up and I let out a 'ha!' as I see you've sent an MP3 of the birthday song you composed for my 50th: "Happy Birthday, Amma" - and in that moment, I remember the pride I felt that day, hearing a line from Happy Birthday you'd cleverly woven into the end of the composition.

Two weeks later, when you live there more than you live here, I mournfully feel the shape of your loss as I blubber through several Indigo Girls songs (remembering your smile as you turned to me at the Mountain Winery concert last summer and we bellowed the chorus of "Closer to Fine" together) and marinate in the aching chord progressions of "Fleet of Hope" until I feel dehydrated.  Bharat makes room for my sadness. He listens, we talk our sad talk, he lets me be.

Thinking back I knew I'd seen it: the looks on parents' faces, the sighs, the tears...but I thought all that would be so temporary compared to the celebration of sending you off to college. No one told me....I mean, I guess I didn't quite get it.  Then a couple more weeks pass and the sadness starts to feel self-indulgent.  I start to get on my own nerves so I turn my attention to your Labor Day visit.  Taara and I debate whether I should bake banana or pumpkin bread, which soup I'll whip up, and if you'll want masala dosa. Then Labor Day, and you, come and go.  But this space you leave, each time you leave, feels less endless and undefined; still sad but less free-floating, less unmoored, less unhinged sadness.

By November it slowly occurs to me that you'll come and go and come and go.  In your absence, Taara and I fall into a new rhythm.  We watch Jane the Virgin and 13 Reasons Why processing each character and plot point languidly because we don't have to make your cross country meet or rush to cheer your 1600M. With this slower pace, some tautness leaks out of me and I begin to unclench my body and my heart. I stretch and reach out to feel the shape of your loss; the edges are less jagged, the structure more defined. Some days partially refill with my confidence and decreasing worry...until I turn the corner by your room and find a Nike running sock.  As I finger the L stitching, I smile remembering how you had to wear two L's or two R's on race day(never the L & R together) and I'm thrown off, thrown back a bit.  But then the phone rings.  It's you.

Let's Be Mindful

Some of us are enjoying a leisurely summer and others of us are dashing around and traveling.  But I just wanted to say, let's please remember how much we are needed by others at this time.  In the midst of reunions and weddings, recent graduations and vacations, let's hold those who are suffering in our hearts.

Baltimore

The Midwest

Charleston

Nepal

All the people who've lost churches to arson

Please consider donating your time or money to a cause.  Though the circumstances are sad, through giving, we can show our children how to give.  This giving will look different for everyone, vary from family to family.  But I'm encouraging us to take a minute during a prayer before dinner, have a conversation before bed, to acknowledge our gifts and how we might share them with those who have needs.  Practicing love and compassion is the core of our humanity.

Is it Darfur?

"Look.  Do you see that spot?  Right there?"  I squint and concentrate on an infinitesimally tiny dot near the bridge of Taara's nose.  

"Um…." I look at her, lean my head to one side, and cock an eyebrow.

"Amma!  Darfur….?"  she asks dispiritedly and throws her hands up in air. 

Sometimes if my children bring a problem to me which I think is a ridiculous, non-problem born of our privileged lives, I've been known to say (in a mildly, sarcastic voice) : "You don't live in Darfur!  You are not a child soldier in Sierra Leone.  A little perspective, please!"

I'll never forget the day my friend Bridget was listening patiently to her 3 year old daughter Lauren get worked into a lather about not finding her favorite socks or some such thing.  And just as we were feeling our nerves become dangerously frayed as Lauren whined on and on, Bridget took a basket of warm laundry and dumped it on Lauren's head.  The child dissolved into giggles and Bridget took the opportunity to say the discussion was over and to redirect her daughter to a new activity.  At 21, I think Lauren would agree that her mother's well-timed use of humor in the cases of non-problems helped her grow into the kind, caring, amazing woman she is today.  

And it helped me as I figured out my parenting style as well.  Not everything has to be processed and dissected.  Not every issue deserves our time and energy - time and energy we could be using to have fun, make beautiful memories, or even make the world a better place.   

When I mentioned this to Richard, our neighborhood philosopher who works at the local mini-mart, he looked shocked and said, "But do you hear her?"  Fair enough.  Sarcasm and gentle teasing have their place, but I do believe in licking one's wounds, being present in that moment to hear our children/friends/family members who are experiencing pain.  I don't think it's useful to always think about the bigger problems in the world.  There's a time for a bit of teasing/perspective-sharing and there's a time for active listening and compassion followed by solutions. Recently many high school seniors heard back from colleges to which they'd applied and some children were disappointed.  In that moment of sadness, telling the child to ''buck up" or "You think that's bad….? is not useful - it's cruel.  

So I went on to say to Taara,  "Yes, Darfur.  But let's go get the Neutragena acne wash and moisturizer."  I gave her a big hug and we talked about how I too used to look at myself in the mirror 812 times a day at her age.  I listened to her tell me about that boy and a science test and what she performed in singing club.  Because if I'm always lecturing and not listening, she'll stop talking.  Or if I'm always talking about problems in the world which are bigger than her's, she may get the message that she's not allowed to bring her problems to me; definitely not the message I want to send.  

Right vs Privilege

Arjun got his driver's license a couple weeks ago.  What a wonderful moment when he stepped out of the car with a huge grin plastered on his face.  Can't we all remember that feeling?  Whooo!  Freedom.  Right of passage.  So even as I'm very happy for him (and simultaneously struggling with trepidation at his being out there by himself), I've been thinking a great deal about this concept of driving being a right.  I know I saw it as such when I was a kid.  But as a parent, I'm definitely seeing it as a privilege.  

I'm fairly certain my parents never told me I couldn't borrow the car.  I don't think I got into enough trouble to warrant such measures.  I happily tooled around in the 1970 something baby blue Ford Maverick or brown Dodge Omni.  Such piece of crap cars but they got me from point A to point B and I didn't have to pay for gas (which I didn't appreciate enough at the time!).  I did have a curfew-by senior year I think it was midnight.  There were nights I'd leave Newburg or Big Flat at 11:34 pm, knowing I could be screeching into my driveway by 11:58….whew! (Kids, don't try this at home…).

But I don't remember feeling grateful for the car and gas.  I'm pretty sure I thought it was just part of being a teen.  Though the car wasn't fancy, I probably felt entitled to it and took for granted that I'd get to take it to school and to all my activities, even though the car belonged to my parents.  I'm squirming as I think about this now- makes me feel uncomfortable.

In my kids' privileged lives, how do I help them to see the distinction between a right and a privilege?  Like most kids, they're, thoughtful, polite, and have the ability to feel compassion for others.  So what's my problem?  My fear is that without understanding the difference between rights and privileges, they may become people who feel entitled; who may take without feeling any gratitude or thought to consequences.

In my mind, as my kids, they have the right to adoration (the physical and emotional manifestations of love), healthy food, clean clothes, opportunities for fun, emotional and physical safety - to name a few.  These are their rights.  I brought them into my life and I must provide an environment which includes these rights without martyrdom or expectation of repayment.

The privileges include screens of all variety (iWhatevers, phones, computers, or TV), a horse, trips to Cancun for spring break, and yes, a car (the horse, Cancun, nor car are current realities).  While I have not tied the withholding or granting of privileges to grades, I do look for genuine effort and improvement over time.  Show me the concrete, specific, and measurable ways you've worked toward this particular goal in class and we can talk about that insanely expensive set of head phones you want.  I want my children to understand when they're getting a privilege and I want them to appreciate how rare that privilege is in the world, even if all their friends have it.  I want them to feel grateful that they have things and experiences which many other people do not.  And I would like them to turn that knowledge into action by passing on their talents, time, and money to good causes.  But they can't read my mind, so I need to tell them.  Tonight.

Can I Do This?

My last post was about a year ago.  Some of the reasons I stopped posting:

the Boston Marathon bombing
Malaysia flight 370
some unkind words

Then it was hard to come back because there are always sad and horrible events happening in the world.  And I asked myself if I could do this.  What were my silly words/thoughts when real stuff was happening out there? People dying, families left devastated without answers.  What was I doing? Who was I to keep on squawking about trivial things?

The unkind words sealed the deal with my leaving the blog.  In my mind, bloggers are people who put their words out there and can handle whatever comes back at them.  Clearly I wasn't ready to do that yet as I was still smarting from a harsh indictment of what I'd written months after the incident.

Then my friend Mary died.  The kids and I went to her 100th birthday party and a few weeks later she was gone.  How could I be so sad about someone passing at 100?  Especially someone like Mary who lived life so exuberantly?  We'd been in writing class together for 6 years and I always loved hearing her stories.  She started teaching a writing class in her 99th year!  Her passing smacked me in the head.

As did a book that my friend Bridget gave me called The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown.  I have a healthy skepticism of the self-help genre, but she's the real deal.  If you've not had the pleasure, look up her Ted talks on vulnerability and shame - each only 20 minutes long.  She's funny, self-deprecating, and wise.  I highlighted, underlined, and wrote in the margins of that book and I'll be buying her others.  One concept in particular grabbed me: she says we can't wait until we're perfect and bulletproof to step into the arena.  Okie dokie.

So I started thinking about my arenas and my fears and my shame and when I feel vulnerable.  And I started to feel very anxious and embarrassed and vulnerable!  But I kept reading and thinking that we all have arenas in which we are meant to stand and live authentically.  How will I get there?

Writing is important to  me, or so I keep saying.  Chronicling my thoughts for my children is important to me, or so I claim.  So let me get back to this.  Let me step into the arena.  Can I do this?  I'm not sure, but I'm going to practice doing it once a week - whether I publish here or scribble in a journal.  That I can do.

From Cool to Cold?

Mostly I have been the cool mom. My kids’ friends have been known to say in my presence and behind my back, “Wow your mom is so cool!”  I have had other kids’ parents come up to me and say (and my heart hurt a bit when they said it because I imagined how I would feel), “My kids LOVE you! They say you’re the cool mom.”

First, I will acknowledge that I cook and bake stuff and the children like that. Peanut butter oatmeal bars are perhaps their favorite, followed closely by the traditional chocolate chip cookies. Fruits are also heartily consumed: mandarins, strawberries, and grapes.  I love to see the shy smiles and adore the mumbled ‘thank yous’ as they reach a hand into the tupperware.  

        Second, I’m a great listener.  If I leave that space and quiet in the car, they will talk; drop the open-ended query and they are eager to tell me things.  There doesn’t have to be direct eye contact or even any deep, personal revelations.  But in my car, “How was your day?” can turn into much, much more than just, “Fine.....”  Not always, mind you, but often enough.  Additionally, a great lubricant to this conversation is the music.  I let them choose the music with the caveat that there be no profanity or content which is too racy.  

        Third, I’m not a big lecturer.  I rarely say things like, “You know what you should do?” or “Well, that’s because you should have....”  If a child were going to hurt themselves or someone else, I’d step in; any of us would!  But when a child is opening up and sharing something, no matter how mundane, nothing seems to shut them down faster than advice.  You can hear the crickets chirping as soon as you drop some unsolicited parental nugget.  Because at a certain age, all advice is just seen as a reprimand.  What I think they hear is- because I’m pretty certain it’s what I heard in my head at that age - “You’re wrong.  You’re stupid.  You screwed up again.”  Or words to that effect.

        One day, my son said, “My friends only like me because of you!” And we laughed.  “Well they’ll think I’m cool until the day they ask me to buy them pot or alcohol and I say no.”  He made a derisive sound and stated, “My friends won’t ever ask you to do that.”  I just smiled at him.  Yeah, maybe not.  But there will come a day when I’ll make some parental choices which will not be popular or cool.  With a fifteen year old son, I know the day is coming.  And honestly, I feel a cold dread thinking of the myriad situations which might present themselves.

Too Pushy or Not Pushy Enough

My friend’s voice was a bit breathless on the phone as she announced, “Just wanted to let you know, at the next appointment, they’re going to ask him to stack blocks!”  She assured me that her son had stacked just fine.  I thanked her for this insider info, and as I hung up the phone, I felt grateful that my son still had 3 months in which to practice his stacking before his 18th month appointment. We’d play all kinds of stacking games.  This was going to be fun!

Except he didn’t want to stack.  Why wasn’t he stacking?  We often played with blocks but he liked me to stack them and then he’d knock them down and laugh uncontrollably.  Somehow I didn’t think this game counted as stacking.  What did it mean that he wasn’t a stacker?  Did he have some sort of developmental delays? Should I force him to practice?  Was I squelching his creativity by telling him what he had to do with the blocks?  The appointment date loomed and still no stacking.

Well, you know the end of this story:  my pediatrician didn’t even ask my son to stack.  When I questioned the doctor about the stacking, he kindly said (because I’m sure he delivered this line to thousands of panicked parents), “Your son is perfect!”  I nodded dubiously, wondering if I should switch to my friend’s pediatric practice and a doctor who truly understood the importance of stacking.  As I left the office, my thought bubble exclaimed: “Well doc, if her were PERFECT, he’d be stacking.  DUH!”  My lingering thought was: What else am I missing?  What other things is my child supposed to be doing for which I am not providing the adequate enrichment?

Thankfully my bff’s B, M, and J were there to smack me around and tell me everything was just fine.  Better than fine.  And as usual they were right.  However, their pragmatism did not keep me from experiencing what I like to refer to as my “Kristi Yamaguchi moment” when A approached his 3rd birthday.  Luckily this phase didn’t last long, but I started playing some wacky tapes in my head (8 track and cassette because I’m 46) and  they went something like this:

How did her parents know?  I mean, how did they even fathom that they were supposed to put their baby on ice skates?!  And in that sometimes nauseating way that many parents of young children are self-referential, I of course wondered what miraculous talent my own son possessed that I might be missing.  Should I be teaching him to use a computer mouse because he was going to create some astounding code? Set him up with a tiny violin?  Read Shakespeare to him?

Well, he’s 15 and his sister is 11 and I still don’t have any definitive answers.  They must accomplish some horribly mundane tasks: clean their rooms, practice piano/flute/trumpet, do dishes, vacuum, complete homework, and actually talk to us.  Yes, I read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua.  But that book only solidified by certainty that happiness is very important.  Childhood unfettered by myriad “have to’s” is essential in order for children to figure out the “want to’s” in their lives.  

So I’ve lost most of my anxiety about what phenomenal attribute of theirs I’m supposed to help cultivate and am hopefully focussing on what astonishing, fascinating, good-hearted young people they are becoming.  Have I been too pushy or not pushy enough?  We won’t know until they book themselves therapy appointments and ask for the “frequent couch discount” as my husband likes to call it.  Our children are exactly who they are supposed to be right now.   As long as they are safe and happy, we parents might consider letting them know that.  

Let's Talk Dirty: Part 2....or a Devil's Playground

Slacker.  Perish the thought!  We don't want to act like one, neither do we want our children to exhibit those behaviors.  So what do some parents do?  Monday: Karate, Tuesday: piano, Wednesday: art, Thursday: Kumon, Friday: _____.  Some of you lapsed into your favorite Asian accent as you read that, didn't you?  (I went for a Bombay-Pune hybrid with British undertones-very sophisticated).  And there are plenty of non-Asian parents out there subjecting their children to this schedule too.  You know who you are!  Even though I'm smiling right now, I feel their pain.  There is a great deal of angst in me about not scheduling more enrichment for my children (we'll call it 'enrichment' rather than the thought that flickers through my head: the 'how to get into college' list of activities).

Connected to the messy conversation, from my last post, is the down-time conversation.  There is plenty of data to suggest that down-time is essential to processing and integrating information.  And beyond that of course we understand intellectually that peaceful, non-scheduled moments are essential to being a happy person.  A person who is comfortable in their skin. An adult who is happy being in their own home, quietly listening to music, or reading a book, or painting.

Some parents are surprised that their children don't know how to just be without a screen (laptop, netbook, smart phone, computer, iTouch, iPad, tv, etc).  But are you modeling that for them?  Do your children see you living that way?  And are you actually giving your child the gift of time to explore all the wonderful, quiet adventures life has to offer?

Some of my bff''s - B, M, and J helped me learn these beautiful lessons.  I give thanks for them - well several times a day! -every time my 11 year old daughter T tells me what animals she sees in the clouds and shows me song lyrics she's written. Or when my 15 year old son A comes barreling down the stairs, babbling about needing transistors for something he's inventing and could I please drive him to Radio Shack? The unscheduled moments are when the kids talk to me, spontaneously sit down at the piano together and create a duet, hover with me in the kitchen to assist with dinner or wait to lick a beater laden with cookie dough.  And that's the good stuff.  The important stuff they'll always remember.

Anna Quindlen, in a Mother's Day article several years ago, wrote something I will never forget:  apparently she called one of her son's and said she was writing this article and what was one of his  happiest memories of her.  And he said, without hesitation, making her laugh. Apparently he and his sibs all felt this way.  After everything and all those years,  her children remembered most and loved the best, making her laugh!  It's a beautiful lesson for all of us.  Embrace your inner slacker with your loved ones today - even if for a little while.  Give yourself and the people around you that gift.

Let's Talk Dirty......

As I mentioned earlier, I'm not a terribly neat person.  And I believe there is a direct correlation between being a bit messy and happy, creative children.  This is one of my goals as a parent: that my children be happy.  Hopefully they'll be able to feed themselves, have a roof over their heads, become productive and giving members of society....and laugh often.  (I'm interested to see if my theory bears out in practice once my kids start applying to colleges/jobs/internships...or if I'm just a huge proponent of a theory until I have to apply it to my own life! Stay tuned)

But often I struggle with being messy.  My people conduct their lives using a host of rituals centered around cleanliness.  Now, I can't speak for all 1 billion on the sub-continent, nor the diaspora, but I'll tell you my personal experience.  Some of the rules with which I grew up:  clip finger and toe nails over a garbage can and never, ever leave them around the house, bathe daily in the morning, eliminate your bowels in the morning, eat food with your right hand (the left is used only for cleaning up after using the toilet), hand money to people only with your right hand, and never wear shoes inside the home (have dedicated indoor slippers which are never worn outside), for example.

Ahhhhh, but messiness.  By dear friend B (you'll get to know all my precious girlfriends eventually) is directly responsible for helping me embrace the messy more firmly and incorporate it in my parenting theory and practice.  Encouraging my children to get their hands dirty in the garden, planting with their father, exhorting them to cover innumerable pages with water colors and pencil scribblings,  laughing as I watched them dance in the rain.  Yes, yes,  yes, sometimes it's a complete pain.  I screamed when I found permanent marker on the walls or paint on the carpet.  But B and others talked me down off the ledge.

So that's the external messiness.  But I think learning to explore and manage the internal messiness is important too.  Digging deep to explore feelings and thoughts.  Being able to express those feelings and thoughts and delving into how to cope with them.  Understanding that life is messiness - ambiguities and multiple realities - and learning how to hold those gently and with patience, I believe goes a long way in leading a fabulous, authentic, and healthy life.  I need to remind myself of these facts as I attempt to reconcile the messy Desi (Indian) in me with all the pieces of the complicated person I am.

Thanks to all who read and tried to post yesterday.  I'm still working on the issue (in-house tech support was very helpful and adorable!)  but I have a couple things you might try if you'd like to post responses:

I logged in as someone else and was able to post....so I'm hoping these ideas work for a few of you.  Otherwise, until we can fix it for all people, please do feel free to msg me or dialog on FB.

When you look at my post, near the bottom, by Posted by Gita Baliga-Savel at 4:37 PM, 
there should be a pencil icon or a phrase that says '1 comment'.  I was able to click on those
and a box popped up in which to compose.  I wrote the word 'test' .  Directly beneath that box it says, "comment as" with a drop down menu.  I'm hoping one of those options works for your world.  I chose Google and was directed to log into my Google account.  Then, I hit the Publish button below it.  Hoping that works for you.  Though I have never blogged before, I think one of the most important pieces is the sharing of information/emotions/ideas/creativity.  So I do need to hear from people!

Today I prepared a  piece about the importance of messiness.  But I decided to table that topic once I began watching the inauguration coverage.  I feel passionately about being an American, about living here, about our political process. Yeah, of course it all makes me crazy sometimes.  But we live here where we can shout about how crazy it makes us without fear of reprisal.  That's a lovely thing.

There were two quotes I heard today which I wanted to share because they moved me so deeply.  Senator Lamar Alexander of TN quoted author Alex Haley:  "Find the good; embrace it."  And one I saw on FB today attributed to Dr Martin Luther King, Jr.:  "Life's most persistent and urgent question is, What are you doing for others?"

As many people in the nation come together for a Day of Service, I'm thinking about finding good, embracing it, and turning those thoughts and feelings inside me into doing for others.  Many of us feel stretched too thin; that life is just rushing by and we barely have time to do for ourselves and our families, let alone others.  But perhaps we're just setting the bar too high.  Next time you're in the store, maybe just pick up an extra pack of tissues or pencils for your child's or grandchild's or friend's child's classroom, bring your neighbor's paper from the driveway to their door, or - one of my fav things to do - pay for the person behind you in line for coffee at the drive through ( definitely stole that from somewhere/someone! Just say, "I want to pay for the drink order of the car behind me").  In our district, teachers have to purchase their own copy paper.  Seriously.  So I noticed the Office Depot ad for 10 reams of paper being on sale and picked one up for our school.  But the kind of good we can put out in the world doesn't have to cost money - the free kind is amazing.  Maybe thinking of BEING a Dr King overwhelms us and we end up doing nothing for too long.  Maybe we can just be a deeper, more meaningful us and that will be more than enough.

Thinking of posting once or twice a week.
Thanks for reading y'all!

Thanks for tuning in!  I'm Gita and I'm interested in sharing about parenting, relationships, career, music, sport, writing, cooking, women's issues, girlfriends and more.  My worldview is inextricably linked to my heritage as a Desi - Indian.  My identity as a woman, amma (mom) , and wife, are colored by that lens.  Sometimes being dual ( U.S. / Desi)  rocks and sometimes it complicates things more than necessary - like most things in life which are important to us.

I'm fat.  Let's just get that out of the way.  I'm sometimes messy.  I'm not messy because I'm fat, but because I think it makes me a better Amma.  Nobody's giving me props for either of those attributes.  I'm pretty cool with that most of the time.

Reading and writing are passions of mine for which I choose not to make enough time.  I'm hoping to make different choices starting now.

More tomorrow.  Thanks for reading y'all!
G