Has it really been that long?

I forgot that I had even started a blog. I read some of my old entries, and they weren't half bad. There were typos and the like, but other than that, they were fairly enjoyable. So much has happened in the 3 years since I started writing. Our beloved Ollie, who was 12 1/2, died on October 24, 2008. I went to India on August 26, 2008 and came back on October 2, 2008. My sister's illness has gotten worse. I still want to lose 10 pounds. I am now a certified Yoga teacher but I'm not sure what that means.

Ollie

I started a blog for my sister's dog, Ollie. Is that weird? Ollie is a member of the family. She will be 10 years old on April 12 and virtually every conversation that my sister and I have revolved around her in some way.

I think pets are some of the greatest teachers we have. They have true buddhanature and it doesn't hide behind ego. They just exist to love and be loved. Our cat, Diablo, is such a wonderful, loving creature. Everytime he gets fed, he is so happy. Everytime he gets pets, he is so happy. Everything is new. He truly has beginner's mind. I think dogs have that too, but their intelligence is closer to our own. They seem to remember things more than cats. Of course, when I see Ollie and then leave for 5 minutes and come back, she wags her tail like I've been gone forever. So maybe dogs only remember certain things: like where that chicken bone is on the street.

It's hard watching pets grow old too. I don't think they have a sense of their own mortality, which someone makes it sweeter and more painful. Ollie can't move like she used to; she has very bad hip dysplasia and can't go up and down stairs without my sister pulling her. It's hard to watch; harder still because I know she is trying so hard. She's not doing it on purpose. It's heartbreaking. During those times, I just try to remain grateful for all the time we had with her and to enjoy the time we still have left.

The Body

Every once in awhile I realize how amazing our bodies are. Thing are always happening inside, things we aren't even aware of, things that enable us to live and breathe. It's amazing to me the thing we do to fuck up the body. I have never understood people who abuse their bodies by smoking or drinking to excess--and I'm married to a smoker. I know that I am guilty of using my body as a trash can for food. I am aware of this but operate out of habit much of the time. I love chocolate and cookies and candy. I think that's why I am 10 pounds heavier than I want to be.
We only have one body for this lifetime. It does so much for us. Why do we take it for granted so much of the time? Is it because we think it will always be there for us? That death happens to other people, but not to us? That we can outsmart it?
I credit my yoga practice for making me more aware of my body and the amazing things it does every minute of every day. And yet, I still don't treat it with the respect it deserves. And when I see people who are really in pain or badly out of shape or mistreating themselves, it makes me want to shake them and yell at them to wake up. Perhaps I need to first do that to myself.

High School Dreams

It seems that virtually every night I have a dream about a boy I went to high school with, someone I actually had a crush on from fifth grade up until I graduated. The crush would wax and wane throughout the years, but for some reason, he has stayed with me. I know where he lives and what he does, although I have not spoken to him since the last day of high school. So why all the dreams? In my dreams, he is always the same age--a high school kid. I remember at one point during my sophomore year, he actually asked me out on a date, although I didn't realize it was a date at the time (I thought it was more of a "hanging out" kind of thing at someone's house), so I never showed up. Did I snub him? Would something have happenend? Perhaps all these unanswered questions are what plagues me. But here I am, 20 years later, still thinking about this kid, realizing I know nothing about him. He could be gay. He could be married. He probably doesn't even remember me. And does it really matter at all or is it all an illusion? I'm not the same person I was in high school, although I tend to feel like an awkward adolescent much of the time. There is no way I would want to be a teenager again. I wouldn't even want to be 30 again! Still, these dreams stay with me and I don't know why. I haven't told my husband about them. He would probably think I was weirder than I already am.

Other People's Lives

I love my gossip blogs. I check them religiously throughout the day. Sometimes I check them every few minutes. I realize this is not healthy behavior. I used to be addicted to all the celebrity magazines. Whenever people made fun of me, I would tell them that some people spend their money on beer or cigarettes, and I spend mine on magazines. So what is the difference? Addiction is addiction. I'm over those magazines now, but I've replaced them with the Internet. So I may have saved some money, but I still waste time on these things. I realize it's out of boredom. And curiosity. But mainly boredom. Am I really being mindful by reading the alleged details of somebody else's sex life? Does it really impact my life one way or the other?

I have to step back sometimes and remind myself that these images on my screen are just people. They do all the things that human beings do. They may have more money and more visibility, but it doesn't mean they are any happier. I would even venture to say they are more unhappy than the "average" person.

There was an editorial in this Sunday's New York Times about the genocide in Darfur. I knew about this tangentially, but I didn't really KNOW about it until I read this editorial. Heartbreaking and horrible.

Monkey Mind

Sometimes I feel like I could post stuff every five minutes. It's amazing how the mind jumps from one topic to another. Perhaps we all have a bit of ADD. I will be driving and think, "I should really write about this" or "This would be a good topic." I doubt anyone even reads this besides me. I find that kind of cool, actually, since I can treat this like my own private journal, but online. I haven't even told my husband I started this blog. Not sure why. Maybe I feel I would censor what I write. Yesterday I happened upon a site called "Pro Ana" about anorexia. I am not anorexic but it was linked to one of my gossip sites. I was just astounded at some of the stuff on there. I am the heaviest I have ever been (but to look at me you wouldn't know it. However, I know it--I can barely fit into my pants). This is a function of getting older and not eating well. Still, I couldn't fathom the lengths to which some young women (and men) will go to to lose weight. And it doesn't stop there; it's as if they want to "conquer" their bodies, as if their bodies are a prison. Something I love about Anusara yoga is the idea that the body is not a prison, it's your instrument. How you choose to care for your instrument is up to you. But starving oneself beyond recognition seems to be a drastic way of living one's life, and not very joyful. What is the purpose of living if all you are worried about is calories and pounds and scales. That is not to say I don't want to drop a few pounds, but I can't envision starving myself to do it. The body and mind are not separate. People need to realize that. Enough ranting for now.

The Internet: A Wonderful and Horrible Thing

I spend alot of time looking up people I went to high school or college with. I know this is not particularly healthy and yet I continue to do it. Just found out that a girl I went to college with and did a show with is now a big time Hollywood director. Of course there is a sense of envy, as if her life is somehow more meaningful than mine. I know this is not really the case, but on the surface, it looks and feels that way. I have been around alot of "famous" people; some I have even met, been introduced to, exchanged pleasantries with. Because of my chosen profession, I have had those opportunities. Did they make my life more complete? No. They provided some interesting fodder for conversations, but that's all. In the end, none of that matters. The trappings, the lives that seem so much better than mine, they are all delusions.