The 12 Adventures

Well here we are again. The 3 readers and me.

I dream about blogging. I think about blogging. I even yearn for blogging. And yet I do it not. A symptom of my crack addicted, sleep depraved, busy go go go lifestyle? Perhaps. A debasing of my creative ablility? Likely. Not having a worthy blogable topic?

NOOOOO!!!

There are many things to which i would love to dedicate an entire day to document. I've decided that if my posterity wants a journal, or a record, (assuming i have posterity of course) they must dig up an archaic computer, log into hishai.blogspot.com or onesundancer.blogspot.com, and read read read.

Although admittedly, there is not much to read here. Yet...

I have made a goal. I know a goal. How origional. Especially coming from me. I'm a little over the top with the whole goal thing. But my goal, my resolution for the year is to process a fear every month while having an adventure. And i noticed today, in explaining this to someone, so far they have all been related to freeing myself from Judgement Weight.

You know that Weight we willing strap on to our self esteems. That burden. Our paralisys. And our secret indulgence for accepting inaction. I would say largely, I am not obese in Judgement Weight. I am mostly healthy, active, and nutritious. But there are those few nastly little pounds that my subconscious just doesn't want to let go of yet.

And so, The Goals.

I don't know them all yet but I will share the three (and 1/2) that i've done.

January. Sing.
Powerfully and with full stance in front of a group of professional musicians and still feel good about myself when i'm done. Now, i've sang in church before. Even been a guest singer at other churches. I know i can sing. But can i sing sing. You know like, well? But i have been scared to test the waters becuase of the 50 professional musicians that i go to church with who can, you know, sing sing. No one was asking me to sing. No one thought of me as a singer. No one was praising me for my singing talent. Subconscious translation = I must not be a good singer therefore I can not sing in church.

I'm done with that nonesense. Sang in church in January. High notes. High heels. And i nailed it! and ya know what, I'm a singer. And i think of me as a singer. And i praise me for singing. And if i want to sing, i don't have to wait to be asked, i can volunteer for heaven's sakes. Yeesh!

2 pounds, gone.

February. Brunette.
I've always had blonde hair. Since i can remember. Except for that one mousey brown weird muddy month on the mission. But that doesn't count. And i like myself blonde. I feel like a blonde. I'm a confident blonde. And people like me blonde. But then i started to wonder...what if i'm brunette? will people still like me? Will life look different? Will my confidence change with my hair color? This may sound silly but these fears are real! (but very silly!)

I'm done with that nonsense. Got brown hair in February. Dark Brown. And i worked it. And ya know what? I'm still me and I'm still okay with that.

2 pounds, gone!

March. Skin.
So i have this weird fear of public nakedness. It freaks me out. I don't like being naked in all my glory. I can naked alone - although that admitedly took work. And so my february girlfriend trip, i couldn't change in the hotel. Shared dressing rooms? nuh uh. not me. I mean, these are my best friends. What am i afraid of? And the locker room at the Y? No way. Will they be looking at my body? Are my nipples too big? Do they have a weird belly button like me? Will they see my cellulite? Will everyone be judging me? And not just my body but the fact that i'm publicly naked?

What is this nonsense? What's the big deal? My body is my body. And i love it. Who cares!!! And so, I walked around naked in the locker room. I sat in the steam room. And i dried out my bathing suit. All while naked. My parents might not be proud. But I fully appreciate this step.

This one get's three pounds.

April. Dun du Dun Dun.
This one is in the works. I thought I would get to do it today but I ran out of time. I'm hoping lunch break tommorrow. And then I'll go public. If not for your reading, for my own validation.

If you have suggestions for adventures, i'm game! But i'm having to dig deep to find the Judgement Weight that I really am ready to loose. I'm not quite to the head shaving phase yet but it came up in conversation today...maybe by November....

Shai

ahhh the sweet smell of reunion

And so it is. It has officially been 8 months since the promised blog connection has been tapped. I humbly offer the excuse of creative lacking. Not the absence of creativity ( I would write brilliant blog posts on the toilet all the time) but the inablilty to convert thought to actual uttered words. I was so lost in the connundrum of conflicting feelings - overabundance of joy and more love for other peoples' kids than humanly possible and the floating sensation of nothingness that comes with a wide open blank slate future - that I couldn't quite manage to blog. to write. to put the swiriling bubbles of bathroom briliance into legitimate thought.

I know I know. I promised this blog would be the way to stay up to date on the goingson of the shaiter. but i'm sure the 4 followers of this blog have managed to survive.

But - deep breath. The time has come. The shift has happened. The transition. The great exodus. The change. And although it sounds so very radomly much like menopose in the descriptions i have chosen to use, i'm refering to the desire to write. and now, like home baked bread, coffee shops, book stores, rain, and chocolate. the sweet smell of reunion to me and my blog is wafting around my new little cottage house. And it's making me hungry.

Other than the impossible task of recounting the last 8 months, here is an update of the past 3 days.

Saturday: Moving day. Thanks to my packing extraordinare mom, I was totally packed and ready to go first thing. there were few last minute shoving of things into boxes and "what about this? Do you need your bed?" kind of talk. And thanks to my jig saw puzzle mover of a dad, everything fit perfectly. The only hang up was the terrible business practices of southern uhaul owners who take the liberty of borrowing a previously reserved lone trailer with out telling me. Yet another tactic of opposition to bring me down.

The YSAs totally deliverd and showed up for me. Helped me move in in 30 mintues flat. Josh gave me an A+ move in. And that's somethin'.

Then an apartment party with strawberry daquiris (how the hell do you spell that?), mafia, dancing, volleyball and a nice fully clothed sneaky swim in the local pool. Talk about a fun time.

Sunday: A nice sunshiny morning waking up in my new room. Yummmmy. A tip off about church choir. An a capella performance that actually sounded good. Writing notes to various fellas during sacrement. All of which were borderline hilarious. A sunday school teacher that was incredible! we're talking off the charts amazing. The coolest bishop in the world. President Arnold exclueded - he's a branch president. he's cool becuase he says things like hotties and hook up and guys are retarded. i'm always a fan of anyone that sees life my way. :) And then a small turned enormous game night. That was top of the line. Top-Of-The-Line.

Monday: a morning run around my little cottage-y neighborhood. A interview turned success story. (can I just get a wahoo!!!) Lunch with the roomy. wandering around a beautiful campus. nap time. grooving to an amazing band called sam & Ruby. Soooooo good. FHE. Driving home with the girls. The most amazing trifecta ever! holla at the ladies.

and now you're up to date. And better off knowing. :)

Now that we are reunited, and the sweet smelling reunion is in the air, the possibilities are endless and oh so hopeful!

Until the writing mood strikes again...

pesky little personal pep talks

I always said, when life get's to comfortable, it's time to move.

And so November 22nd, i loaded a trailer. life was comfortable. I was comfotable. I loved my little french cafe apartement. I easily knew my way to church, taco bell, and payless. I had a favorite mountain spot. I knew the bus route, when the grocery store got new apples, where the best soup is served on tuesdays. I had my own little comfort zone. My desk job. My favorite gas station.

and i hate that while secretly loving it. I hated how average i was feeling, how settled everything had become. While secretly enjoying the simplicity of my little world.

And so God threw a metephorical brick and said "hey you there...get a move on it. You want growth, I'll give you something to shake it up a bit!"

And so off i went on an adventure.

And i've noticed consciously - it is soooo uncomfortable for me. And well...I'm loving it! I'm waking up. It's like the numness is wearing off. it's like someone spilled comfortable all over my favorite dress and now i'm scrubbing it off with ultra strong quicker picker upper.

and i find in all this stretching very uncomfortable.

Like singing a solo at the church christmas party. Several solos. That are really high. under a spot light. in a tight hot red sweater.

Or going to a single adult dance. With my parents. And there was a boy table. and a girl table. and an old people table. and i didn't know...do i brave the boy table...do i make friends with the girl table...do i sit with my parents...aaahhhh...this is akward.

A brief tangent to mention how great this experience was. My table was mom, dad (i caved), honey a middle aged mother of five who told us her life story - which i loved!, billy jo - who wore a name tag that said phat pink elephant, dee ann - a woman with nice bangs and a very shy smile, and her 17 year old daughter Christina.

Honey is bound and determined to find my soul mate. She swears he's in Tennesee. She knows every eligible guy in our stake. Which is a lot to say since it covers Kentucky, Illinois, and West Tennesee. Billy Jo, is at least 70, and swears that Bruce R McKonkie promised him 7 wives in the millenium. I was so preocupied with these two brilliant characters that i didn't get to know DeeAnn and Christan. They said they were too bashful to dance.

And the stake president, a young 80's music lover, my parents and me, stole the show dancing in front of everyone.

And then the 5k push on the tread mill. I cut 7 minutes off my time! SEVEN minutes!

and something i've noticed in all of these stretching situations - my self talk. I've become a constant self propeller. I have consciously noticed what i'm saying to myself. and I'm surprised. i've intentionally changed what i say to myself in my head. And in my panic moments in church bathroom stalls (which has happened more than ever in my life!) i'm surprised at what i'm saying. its actually good. I'm actually doing great at my personal pep talks. and im proud of myself!

and it's made all the difference.

And i'm stretching. and it's akward. and a little uncomfortable. but i'm owning it.

dreaming of the pas de deux

Last weekend, my family took an adventurous little road trip down back roads and one way streets, through construction, and deer crossings, to partake in a family tradition. The Nutcracker.

And yes...even in this back country of West Tennessee you can find ballet. And dang good ballet too!

And there were these two amazing - and I mean AMAZING - routines...are they called routines in ballet? or is that just cheerleading? Two great dances both pas de deux.

When Clara meets the Snow Queen and King and then the Sugar Plum Fairy. Oh my gosh...soooo moving! It's like the Snow King and the Cavalier just orbit around their princesses. Like her every move was his reason for being. Her lean left was his lean left. He was her support, her strenght, her spotlight, her enhancement, her focus. With out him, she is beautiful. But she can't possibly get as high or as far. With out her, he is amazing. But he doesn't seem so full of purpose.

and thus the pas de deux.

I just learned the name of pas de deux this summer on so you think you can dance. See video link below...

ttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kM_64jY42Q

Best video i could find. They are kind of floating like ghosts...

ANYWAY...

Pas de deux. Step for Two or Not of Two. I think the official term in a ballet means step for two but the french translation could be not of two. They both fit.

It's litterally a joining of two dancers in a dance created specifically for them. A movement for two as one. Like the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier. He makes her Shine. She makes him Beautiful.

The dictionary calls it a close realtionship between two people as in doing an activiy.

Doesn't that sound like what a realtionship should be?

Pas de deux. A step for two in one dance that is not actually for two. It's for one. Because you are one. You move as one. You act as one. And it was a dance created just for you and your Snow King. and it's moving to watch becuase you are so in sync that it's beautiful. And then Tchaikovsky is constantly serenading your life.

And so I dream...

the secret life of bees

Today. I feel grumpy.

Someone told me how to create. Someone told me i can't create my way. and that makes me grumpy.

And my "too-many-richard-geer-movies" fairy tale world is suddenly not so shiney. And that is ok. It just means that this is no skip through the daisey post. and that's ok too.

So. Here i am. Living with my parents. Unemployed. Scramling a little. Trying to find my balance. I keep reminding myself it's the right thing. It's just the part of the adventure where the road gets a little steep.

and all this i know. sometimes it just doesn't sink.

But there is redemtion in my slightly grumpy pessimistic rantings. Bees.

Sue Monk Kidd has created a remarkably meaningful inspiring straight to the heart of me book called "the secret life of bees". A lost little girl finds joy and serenity in her own feminity and relationship to her divine self.

A few exerpts i found particularly compelling...

"you've been halfway living your life for too long. May was saying that when it's time to die, go ahead and die, and when it's time to live, live. Don't sort-of-mabye live, but live like you've gone all out, like you're not afraid."

"Every person on the face of the earth makes mistakes...every last one. We're all so human...There is nothing perfect. There is only life."

"drifting of to sleep, i thought of her. How nobady is perfect. How you just have to close yoru eyes and breathe out and let the puzzle of the human heart be what it is."

"our Lady is not some magical being out there somewhere, like a fairy godmother. She's not the statue in the parlor. She's something inside of you....You have to find a mohter inside yourself. We all do. Even if we already havea mother, we still have to find this part of ourselves inside...When you are unsure of yourself...when you start pulling back into doubt and small living, she's the one inside saying "get up from there and live like the glorious girl you are. She's the power inside you, you understand."

"and when you get down to it, that's the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love but to persist in love."

and even though i'm not exactly where mama august preaches, i'm progressing. And exactly where i'm at is ok. In the sunny yellow room. With my clothes all in boxes. And no idea how to get to Walmart. And where every road is up hill. And i'm caught up in the drama of someone else's life. and i have no idea what's around the corner and where two months will lead me.

and ya know what? it's ok.

my soul painting

a soul painting, according to the wise sages of my life, is a visual representation of your soul. an tangible snap shot of the intangible heart, thoughts, desires, hopes, dreams, weaknesses, callings, and everything else.

This is mine. The Sun Dancer. Not my original painting. Or even my title. But it's me just the same. Whatever gifted artist in the unending world of cyberspace created this painting, bless you for your gift. You must have known me.

A sun dancer. Not the light. Not the source of the light. But one who calls in light, radiates it, walks in it. Surrounded by it, she isn't burned by the overwhelming power of the light. She dances in it.

As i irresponsibly and wonderfully leave behind convention, security, stability, and predictability, i hope my true soul, my sun dancing soul, becomes more present on the surface. The cubicle cocoon is breaking. The beautiful claustrophobia of Logan is no longer limiting me. The dysfunctional security of what i wanted is making way for what is really there.

It's time to dance.