Old Woman With Her Butt in the Air=Dog Pose

I glanced in the mirror to see how I looked doing dog pose. Well, let’s just say that Mariel Hemingway can keep her job as poster girl for yoga. But it felt like I was SO IN THE POSE. You know how you’re walking down the street and you’re thinking, wow, I look good today. You’ve got on your adorable, new brown sandals (they are brown in this scenario because I did just buy a cute, new, brown pair–picture to come), and you’re wearing your skinny jeans and then, bam, you see yourself in the window of a building and you’re kinda shocked because, when the heck did you get that old?? Or that fat?? Or that whatever? That ever happen to you?

After glancing at myself in the mirror at Cindy’s studio–which, correct me if I’m wrong, but I swear the place is all mirrors–I wanted to crawl under a rock. I know Cindy, my yoga teacher, would say to thank my body for supporting me in the pose, heck, for supporting me period. She’d say to do the pose my body will do. That it isn’t a competition, and so forth. She’s fairly guru about the whole yoga thing–and I’m fairly North Carolina and Southern–but she is sincere, so I stay and try to focus, and try not think about how I look like an old woman with her butt in the air.

The rest of the class did not go well.

Anyway, I drove home determined never to do yoga again, never to go to a yoga class again, and to become an old lady who lives in her garden clothes, and never cleans the dirt out from under her fingernails. Okay, so that is actually me already. I was going to embrace me, how’s that?

But then my dog, Platypus (Platy for short) got up to greet me, doing his dog pose first to get the kinks out. I watched him stretching his front paws out, his butt up in the air, and he looked so happy, and because he’s two feet tall and four feet long, his dog pose is a looooonnnnngggg pose.

So, I kicked off my new brown sandals, and did dog pose on my kitchen porch. Here’s what I have to say about dog pose when you’re not glancing in a mirror to see if you’re Mariel Hemingway’s new buddy. DANG I LOVE DOG POSE. It feels so darn good. I pushed up through my arms, stretching my back upward–really getting my butt up there–standing on my tip toes and then, when I had stretched up as far as I could go, I put my heels down. It was amazing. I stayed there for almost five minutes playing with the pose while Platy ran under me, sniffed my nose, licked my ankles and generally went nuts because he wanted petting.

I told him, “Give me a minute Plat dog, I’m doing dog pose, buddy.”

I know if I had glanced in a mirror again, I would have seen an old lady with her butt up in the air, but I didn’t care. My body was supporting me, and I was treating it with care. I’m getting a little weepy thinking about it so I’ll end here.

You’re Just the Prettiest Thing

Angelina jolie

Angelina jolie (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

People are always telling each other how pretty they look or how beautiful they are in that outfit, etc. Well, men don’t normally go around saying things like that, but women do that a lot.

And, here’s what I wonder. Really?

I hate to say it, but most of America is not attractive, and I am including myself here. My son and I were people watching the other day and well, it was not a pretty sight. There wasn’t one person I’d have walked up too and gone on and on about how good they looked. Not one. (We were on the streets of Brevard, not a metropolis, but very busy-tourist in the summer time.)

So, that got me to thinking. When we say things like that to one another (and I am the worst for it), are we sincere? Are we just talking and not thinking about it, like on auto pilot? Because I can hear myself saying that right now. Do I mean it?

Well, yes, I do. That’s when it hit me. We walk around with veils over our eyes. Veils of love, like, admiration, respect, joy, laughter, you name it. We do mean it when we say that because when we see a person we see THEM, not just what they look like. Some of the people in my life that I deem the prettiest would not win any beauty contest, yet to my eyes, they could. We’re seeing the light in their eyes, the laughter in their hearts. And, thank God for it because after my day of people-watching, I am like WOW NELLY.

But, it continues (I know, I know). We see ourselves as attractive too. Even if, we know that technically we are not Angelina Jolie or whomever fits our bill of prettiness. Even if we are super aware of our flaws (bow-legged, thank you) or our short-comings (shortest one in my family), we are able to look past all the aging, and awkwardness that our looks can sometimes bring us and believe that actually, we’re not that bad. And, what a blessing, because if we believed the media we’d all stay home and never show our faces.

So, then I started thinking even more (yep, she never stops). What if our ability to see into someone’s heart and see them and not the flesh and blood they walk around in, is a glimpse of heaven? What if we’re seeing what that person will look like in eternity? I mean, Scripture says we will have resurrected and perfect bodies. So, what if those perfect bodies are what we see now through the eyes of love?

How cool is that people?

Going Minimal, Ready for Wherever God Sends Me (I think, I hope)

I decided on the minimalist approach to my blog design, because that is my life now. Minimal. I’m in transition, and so I travel light.

After spending 20+ years building a life for a family, which meant buying furniture, Christmas decorations (and Thanksgiving, Easter, July 4th decorations…) and outdoor furniture and grills for family cookouts, and suitcases for family vacations, and on and on, I now hear God saying to my spirit, “Keep it light.”

Moving from South Turkey Creek, where I lived over 20 years, was an eye-opener. Not a new one, really. I’ve often wondered if we Americans have too much stuff, but to be the living example of it while emptying out my things from South Turkey Creek was sobering. Why on earth did I have all of that? Was it really necessary? Who knows? I probably thought it would make our home more home and our family more family.

Now, the things in my home would fit into one moving truck, and not the 18 wheeler kind. It is rather refreshing, and I contemplate if I will keep it this way or eventually replace what was left behind with more of the same. Again, who knows?

I don’t hear God suggesting it. In fact, he seems to be saying just the opposite. While others are asking me when I plan to start dating again (as if all I have to do is to accomplish that is stick my head out the door and holler for a man), if I’ve decided where I am going to live (as in permanently), and will I always manage a flower market (after all, it is a blue collar job), I feel God saying I want you ready. Ready for what? I don’t know. But now, I am in a position to go wherever He needs me too, without hindrance of man, house or job. It is pretty exciting.

I’ve always wanted to be used by God for something BIG. I’m probably not even supposed to write that as the Christian motto is often about finding contentment in the least of circumstances. But, there it is. I don’t mean Beth Moore kind of big. I mean small actions that lead to big reactions. I mean everyday things that impact eternity. Like telling someone Jesus loves them and for the first time they believe it. Or quite literally giving someone a cup of water who is thirsty.

I am still looking for a home, but I am beginning to understand that my new home may not look a thing like the last with its cherry paneling, big stone walls and cathedral ceilings. Perhaps it will be a hut in a remote place, or a palace on a cliff, or a brick rancher on a street corner. Wherever it is, I am ready.