Create with Kim!

Sunrise on Summer Solstice, June 21, Lake Superior

Summer Solstice and the sun rose at 5:56 am (it will set at 9:45). I met the sun on the Lake Superior shoreline between Picnic Rocks and McCarty’s Cove and joined my yoga community for a circle-led session of yoga on the beach.

The night before I set out my new bike helmet, a backpack with red flasher attached just in case the predawn was too dark. It ended up I did not need the light to be safe on the bike. The day was born bright and beautiful.

I was surprised I was up with the alarm clock at 5:45 and on my Bike by 6 am. It was easy. I had set the intention that this is how I wanted to enter the second half of my year. This is how I wanted to honor the summer before me. This is how I wanted to live my life, heal, and love.

I opened my lungs to the fragrance of morning on the lakeshore. White and pink roses in bloom all along my ride on the bike path. I rooted my feet in the sands of Superior. I down-dogged and I saluted the sun. As I lay in savasana I opened my eyes to a blue sky with wispy white clouds as Mary said we should look at the art in the sky.

I could not sleep last night the moon bright and waxing gibbous at 75%. The air was crisp and cool with the bright night.  Restless dreams included me going to a yoga school where people did amazing poses and even I attempted to float in air.

I keep thinking the world is at my feet. I am open to the riches of the universe. I am thinking of fruit, fruition, bringing my wildest dreams into being.

I am picturing my elephant self and a basket of fruit. I am dreaming of one-dollar pineapples. Free mangoes for everyone. Spicy chuntey. Mint and Lime. A community meal with music and laughter.

I water the vegetable garden and the petunia plants outfront. I am observing the garden and growth. I see where I have yet to thin seedlings. I think of my tight neck and shoulders and recognize the holding pattern as one tied to fear.

I’m breathing and letting tapas into my body. Tapas is an enthusiasm and fire , a discipline and a letting go. Simplicity. Being Present. Embracing the daily life of yoga.

Today I need to trust that I am right where I need to be. That life is unfolding on a course that embraces the whole of my spirit, and yours, too.

There is no need to swat at my fear as if I am shooing away an annoying fly. No fearing the mosquito that buzzes my ear all night. I can feel the itch and move forward. I can let go the bite of fear and heal.

Word Count: 485

In My Own Backyard--Chamomile Calm

Tomorrow the goal is to get to 6:30 am sunrise Yoga on the beach. A secondary goal is to wake early enough to get there by Bike. I spent time in the garden’s this Sunday seeing the growth of the past week (but not much more than that). I took time to be easy on myself and let the tightness in my shoulder and neck relax. I over-did it last weekend with all the hoeing and shoveling the turning of the soil and the tilling by hand the potato bed.

May we find the right tools, nearby. May we be tender with the Earth and ourselves.

I dedicate today to working on my path with yoga, breathe and nurturing my connection to the earth with hands in soil. Today I will touch living things and honor my hands and the life that grows from my connections.

Today, I am taking a break from electronics as much as possible. I’m going offline.

(The photos were taken on 6/17 at the Marquette Community Gardens on Presque Isle. I however will be working in my own backyard gardens. Peace.)

What change do you desire?  It is a whisper of a question. Movement. Art-filled joy. Laughter.

Now imagine you can have your deepest desires!

I look at these photos and I already know that part of my dream for change is in progress. In fact, I am living it! Writing these words means, I am living it! Each choice I make takes me closer.

My feet are on a path. Yesterday, I kept watching through the lens of my camera at the paths opening before me. Sometimes the path was the simple framing of a photograph, a pathway in the community garden. Sometime the path appeared much more subtle–not a footpath– an angle, curve, or blossoming.

I stepped past the angry thistle to the wild iris, carefully. I saw a whole field of purple and blue wild iris open, focus and blur, bokeh and breath. The light was fading away from golden magic light to the blue of night. Would I have enough time? Enough light. To show, clearly the path I discovered on Thursday night.

I have written about the nearly back-to-back shifts of Wednesday and Thursday. A 3pm-1am shift followed by a 9am-3pm shift. Followed by a nap and a camera walk with Mike.

My sleep patterns are off. My digestive patterns are off. With Celiac Disease this is a no-no, folks. So when I think of changes I desire they come with listening to my body and not forcing it to mold and meld with the lifestyle of shift-work.

I dream of a day when I support myself fully with my creativity.

I am planning a couple of Ebooks and expanding my Etsy store. I’m in the gathering phase for a gift card series. And I am envisioning a swing-set in the backyard. Every grandmother-goddess-yogini-artist should have one.

I am cleaning out my art studio making room for my massage table. I am dusting off my books. I am offering art supplies to those who have none. I am digging in the dirt of my flowerbeds and vegetable gardens.

I am breathing, healing, and my nutrient levels are rising. With this change, I become stronger and more energized.

I have many paths open before me. Some are clear. Others have blossoms to which I must peek within, gently, tender petals, pollen, like magical dust from dreams.

Nothing to sneeze at (wink).

~Namaste

 Word Count: 400

The other 400 words will appear on one of Kim’s other blogs TBD.

• Running Marquette: Running Marquette County in All Weather
• Enjoy Life Free: Easy Living without Allergens!

Fenced in by working two shifts equalling 16-hours in one 24-hour period. I was sleep deprived did not write (much)but I did stretch, lay in savassana and I went for a camera walk on Presque Isle in Marquette, Michigan.

Sometimes when we are the most taxed for time and energy doing the activity that brings us the most joy allows us to relax our shoulders (lowering them from the ears and down the back) and deepens our breathe.

I also realized the counting of days was off (a bit)–I should really map out commitments on paper and to renew my focus I am doing just that today. I think I lost count over last weekend.

This post is for Thursday, Day-Ten of the 21.5.800 commitment.

Ask me about the photo and I will tell you what was beyond the fence on Thursday :-)

~Namaste

Photo taken January 2, 2010 by Kim Nixon

Today’s Yoga Practice at Mukta was gentle and restorative and dedicated to Loving Kindness. I started attending Mukta a while back but in January made a renewed vow to my daily yoga. Today as I came out of final relaxation I had an image of Ganesha with fruit surrounding in large luscious piles. I researched the image and came up with, “The bowl of fruit represents the whole world is at your feet there for the asking.” Visit the link for more information on images often seen with Ganesha. To again quote the website linked, “Ganesh, is perhaps the most beloved of Hindu Gods…and with little wonder as he is the God of Prosperity, The Remover of All Obstacles (Avighna), the Lord of all Gods (Ganapati), and the Bestower of Success (Siddhivinayaka). “

I am smiling. I am glad today I woke and went to Mukta for my Yoga practice.

Weekly Images--Just One Available Pasasge to Yoga Class

It’s raining, again. The yard looks wild. I’m drinking too much coffee on a Friday. Yet I had nine hours sleep. My body requested it and me, I gave-in. Allowance.

The view of the lake from my hill looks misty and haunted.

Used up the leftover chicken broth to cook white basmati rice and then snipped in some fresh parsley and I set aside a big bowl for Mike’s meal tonight.

If I am to allow certain extravagances, I must strive to use all resources available, wisely.

Like cooking up baby carrots that look to dry for salad.

It is easy to stay in today. Rain. The last day of my workweek. The last night in a string of 3-11pm shifts. If I thought this week was difficult, how will I react after next week?

I must remember to ease into each day. With Breathe. With Chanting. To Stretch.

I’ve lowered the impact on my body less running, more biking, more yoga, more sleep.

My thoughts are distracted by the rain today. It is heavy. Not in strength but it looks thick and the drops large and they fall with plunks on the deck. The traffic going by hisses with spray and the dryer in the laundry room buzzes and the snaps on my pants tap and clink.

I’m craving midnight colored skies with the orange glow of campfire and the sound of night birds.

The cat tries to seek out my lap as I type.  Even he is seeking some warmth. It’s tropical out there, the pinks and whites of the roses standing out against brilliant green in the dark of a rainy day. But it is cold. Damp. Wet.

Weekly Images--Quartz and Amethyst with Bike Beyond

I had forgotten to cross out the days on the calendar and was stuck back on Saturday of last week. Have you ever done that? It is an odd occurrence for one who lives by day planner. I eeven missed meeting earlier this week. I must have not opened the day planner at all this week. I did not know I had missed the meeting until I walked past the wall calendar and it whispered for me to look-up, look-up.

I phoned my apologies.

I shorted myself an hour of pay by missing that meeting. But I had gained and hour of sleep. I wonder which was the more valuable. (We both know this answer).

The coffee feels good. Both the mug on my hands and the warmth in my belly.

The cat has decided to sit next to me. He is not in lion mode but in kitty mode. Trying to be cute and not a bother so I will share my spot of warmth on the couch and mabe give hs ears a rub.

 Never turn on the television when home alone. I like the quiet. I long for quiet.

Even the raindrops are loud today.

And the dryer.

My thoughts are short and not fluid. I need to walk riverside. I need to dress for play and hike a trail. I need to lay on sand in the sun.  I need spark. Blue. Stone. Quartz. Granite. I know I need the trails of Wetmore and Lil’ Presque.

I can take you there.

I want people in my life who offer warmth and cheer. Who are genuine. Who find blessings in ladybugs and dragonflies. Orange daylilies. The value of an apple tree with a dead branch. Birds perched in song. A sleeping mourning dove on top of a birdfeeder.

I can take you there, too.

Have I ever told you that I want to open a healing center. Not in the coty. But where yards open on lush gardens with birds. Where hummingbirds visit for nectar while massage is received?

Have I ever told you this space would have daily soup and smoothies?

That here people would meet for tea and chat?

Tai Chi next to the pond. Yoga in the yard. Laughter.

I can take you there.

Too.

Word Count: 662

(unedited)

I just finished doing the dishes, again, and I was certain that I was coming to the keyboard this morning with something vital to say about life, yoga, and my pursuit of happiness. But it escaped me somewhere between washing out the blender pieces and tossing a heavy wool blanket over my lap. I even closed the kitchen window this morning the hot dishwater did nothing to keep a chill off my arms.

Happiness is a white-peach from Farmer Q’s blended with banana, and raspberry yogurt made with coconut milk. I am realizing youthful co-workers do not understand phrases and references I make. But you remember, don’t you? Happiness is a Warm Puppy. Charles M. Schultz and the Peanuts.

Last night at work, I sang old commercial jingles to pass thru the “loudness of the night.”

Today I am thinking of Linus and his blanket. Cold. Gray Day. No Rain, just overcast skies and a cold breeze thru the little kitchen window above the sink where the amethyst and quartz crystal sit in a bowl of water between fern and aloe.

This window centers me. As does the view of the crabapple tree with maroon leaves that blooms hot pink that has waxy dried up fruit for the birds when they return early spring and the snows of the Upper Peninsula still shock us all. Nourishment. This happiness at the sink. This happiness under blanket at keyboard on sofa. Happiness of home.

It is true that the promise of a weekend spurs me on thru the workweek. The nights away from Mike are hard and I am not home to nurture him with vegetables roasted on cold evenings. I know he pushes himself too hard and eats too late.

So today, I am thinking about nourishment and nurture.

Red and gold new potatoes tossed with onion, garlic, parsley and olive oil baked in a glass casserole dish. Some for me. Some for Mike. I dream this up while washing dishes. Clean counter. Get rid of clutter. Make the space a reason to smile as you come home to an empty house after a long day.

Happiness is a clean counter and no dishes.

Happiness is roasted veggies.

Happiness is a long slow stretch and a foot massage with oils.

Deep nourishments.

I remember evenings with the news. Listening to Mike’s day massaging his feet with oils. It is clear I am missing him. I come home from work needing to sleep but he is next to me in bed and I want to visit. I want to dream with him in awake mode. I want to go for a long walk under starlight on a beach and learn to take night photos. The last thing I want to do is sleep. But I must sleep.

I am healing. I am nourishing my body.

They tell me I have Celiac Disease. Damage to the small intestine kept much needed nourishment from my body. I no longer ingest gluten, corn, dairy/casein, oats or egg. I avoid soy.

I am beginning to absorb iron into my body. My blood will be more oxygenated. I will have more energy. I will heal faster and faster.

Happiness is ample iron stores in my body.

Happiness is raising vitamin D levels.

Happiness is a healing small intestine.

Let’s not talk about the fears today. No worries. No anxieties.

Today will be a day for OM.

A day in the studio with crayons and pencils lined up in glass vases. A day with begonias and palm. A day with Traditional Chinese Medicine posters and books. These are some items in my studio. Art. Healing. Growth.

Happiness is 30 plus houseplants.

Happiness is sheets on the massage table in retro prints and fuchsia hearts.

I am healing. I will be able to offer the same.

To others.

Happiness.

Is.

Healing.

To me happiness is healing.

Stretch and open.

Chant.

Breathe.

The kitchen window does not have to be open for me to receive the healing vision of the centering crab tree that blooms pink.

I hear a Starling as I type this and the cat who wants to be a lion is nowhere to be seen, now.

The roses are wild and pink. And there is magic beyond the thorns. In the garden there is always magic. Wonder. Growing. Worms. A Black and White Cat who crouches low to the ground and is ready…

Word Count: 743, unedited.

For information on 21.5.800 – 21 days of writing 800 words a day and doing yoga 5 days a week, click here.

This is my entry for Day 2 of 21.5.800 – 21 days of writing 800 words a day and doing yoga 5 days a week. Today I did Yoga for 90-minutes at Mukta Yoga. My writing below is under 800 words. But it reached a point of release and I was good with it. Namaste.

21.5.800 Day Two

(unedited)

The storm came booming off the hills into Marquette and down to the harbor at 1:00pm. I watched as I did dishes. The blooms in the yard stood out in deep purples as the sky darkened to gray and everything drank up the wet of a summer thunderstorm.

Earlier today, I rode to Yoga at Mukta Yoga downtown a 90-minute gentle session that calmed my body. Lisa’s words, “deepening the relationship with yourself” clung as I left yoga and picked up peaches and organic bananas at Farmer Q’s. As I rode up third street toward Fair and on to Lakeview Arena I took in the feeling of enjoying a summer.

At Lakeview I picked up my third place prize from the 5K I ran this past weekend. A simple river stone polished and now hangs on my chest. I am happy in the elemental nature. It’s brown color. Earthy and River. Deepening my relationship with self, means embracing this land around me. Connecting to my source. Following the Dead River upstream. Sitting near falls.

The dishes are done. The rain falls steadily. The soil aroma floats up into the thick wet air. I enjoy a mug of strong coffee in the last hours before my 3-11pm shift at the group home, tonight.

I think about the choices I am making in my art, my life, and those that communicate well with my whole being. I am thinking about the new friends I am making.

This morning I woke tense, with anxiety. I had not slept well at all. Anxious dreams. Yoga reminded me to be present in the moment. Not fear what was behind me or in front of me. Instead, I moved into my belly. I felt my active legs, cling the bones and support me. I stood in Warrior II with soft gaze. In Savassana I let myself deeply rest knowing that this moment was a perfect moment of calm and acceptance.

But I was already planning once on the bike, planning how I might do Yoga in the yard, tomorrow. Perhaps right in the mud of the veggie garden with young plants and sprouts all around. I was already planning my lunch. Salmon, cilantro, brown rice, asparagus. The zip of garlic, the tang of balsamic vinegar and the sweet of minced red pepper.

The coffee fogs my reading glasses and I sit cross-legged with laptop in a room darkened by storm clouds. The cat sits on the exercise bike seat staring out at the raindrops, waiting for the starlings and robins that will certainly come soon to eat worms.

The cat’s tail will twitch as he watches. He wants to be a hunter. He wants to be a lion. Even he has a hard time some days accepting that he is a house cat. Not farm cat. No tom cat. Not part of a pride on the Serengeti. We are in Marquette Michigan, a place on the shore of Lake Superior, a great lake, wide and deep.

And he is a House Cat.

And I am?

As I rode my bike, the wind was strong and challenging but there was not a cloud in the sky. But that wind spoke of what pushed it. I was already happy that I chose my ride early in the day.

I find myself looking past today, past Thursday, to Friday morning and beyond. I am thinking of how much time I have to volunteer. How much time I have to write, clean, cook, create. I am calculating minutes and how to balance it with family and friends. I’m losing that deep relationship with self the one that slows me down to moment by moment love and acceptance of “now”.

In this now. I am breathing. I can sing. I can chant OHHhhhhhhhhmmmmm.

In this moment, the air smells of rain and storm, wild rose. And the lavender vanilla candle beside me.

But work is tugging me back, saying time to prepare for the day. Get ready. Move forward.

It is work that makes me calculated how many minutes I can take back. I am not my job. I like my job. But I am not the work or tasks. I am the yogini chanting my story.  Here. With keyboard on my lap.

Word count: 712

I will not be a fat pigeon in winter! I exclaimed on December 3rd, 2008. I had already been dieting since the week before Thanksgiving. But that image of fat pigeons puffing up their feathers sticking close to their food source made me think of how uncomfortable I felt when bending over my own belly to put on my boots. How much easier winter would be if I stayed inside? But that mentality did not fit my future vision of myself.

I had dreams of traveling in foreign countries taking photos and writing inspirational articles, filled with hope. My bucket list had the dream of kayaking with whales in the Pacific Northwest. I now had a grandson to chase. The echoes of winter is as good (or fun) as your gear haunted me. Yeah right! But I cannot even hook my feet up to my snowshoes without Mike’s help. Humiliated. I hated that.I vowed to see my feet again with ease no matter how many layers of clothing were needed to ward off the cold.

I Lost 45 @ 45! In fact I have now lost 46 pounds. And I think it might be possible by December 3rd to lose 50. The weight comes off slow now as I am building muscle mass and definition. I have gone from a tight fitting size 18 to a comfortable size 10. I’m still shrinking.

Weight loss and fitness is expensive. I have shrank thru wardrobes of clothes and every couple of months I have bagged up the cast-offs for Vinnes and Goodwill. All my gear, including backpacks, no longer fit. I have shelled out money just to run 5k races; something I can do around Presque Isle on my own everyday. But I vowed not to be a fat pigeon in winter.

Lots of people ask, ”How’d you do it?”

The next phrase no mater what my reply is, “I can’t do that ____________ (fill in the blank with reason).”

I am not an athletic trainer. I am not a dietician or nutritionist. I am simply one motivated woman who was sick of not living fully. I, too had the same excuses.

• I just have a slow metabolism…
• I don’t have the time…
• I dont’ have the money…
• I have other people to cook for…
• I have an injury…

I had to face all my excuses and find a way around them. I had old injuries, and new injuries. Yet, somehow this time around. Nothing de-railed my efforts. At the Holistic Health Fair I will talk about making change happen, making goals a reality, and how my journey got me to a size 9/10. I am calling the talk “I Lost 45 @ 45!”

The Fall 2009 Holistic Health Fair will be held Nov 7th 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at UpFront & Co. in Marquette Michigan.