My Morning Meditation

the swelling crescendo of a chorus of grasshoppers and cicadas surrounded me and then fell away like waves of water washing upon a shore and then pulling back into the ocean. the sun's brightness permeated my closed eyes and bathed my insides with bright light. the heat of the sun hugged my cool body like a bearskin in the winter. a spicy scent from an unknown natural source punctuated the sweet air and i breathed in the aroma and filled my soul with its tang. i felt as if time was flowing in odd rhythms and standing still at the same time. it didn't matter to me which one it chose. time had no value or purpose as i sat bathing in the rhythm and heat and spice and bright of nature encircling me with love. I felt myself swaying and twisting and didn't know if it was real or my imagination. there was no time and i did not care to know the difference between reality and fiction. they were one and the same and it was pure and i was in ecstasy. in a flash, the heat of my body was unbearable and I had to shed the light robe hiding my nakedness from human eyes. i pulled and tugged until my shoulders were free of the garment and I could feel one breast free itself from the fabric as a cool breeze kissed its nipple. i breathed and felt my heartbeat resonating throughout my core, vibrating with the rhythm of my breath and the singing of cicadas. i twisted my head and heard the single song of a bird pierce the air and it was perfect. all of a sudden my eyes opened and the brightness of the green leaves seemed to embrace my spirit expanded from my body. the sun smiled through the branches and i was alone from humans but connected to all of nature. 

Fasting

Before April 2011, I had never fasted. I never saw a reason to do it.

I attend a church that fasts annually. The annual church fast is not only from food, but also from media - telephone, television, social media, radio, etc. A media fast? Now that was something I needed to take a break from. Last year, I completely ignored the food fast and implemented portions of the media fast. Yeah, I said portions. I'm not a cold-turkey kinda chick. I have to do things in stages... see how it feels on me.

Instead of abstaining from all forms of media all day, I chose what and when I'd restrict. Since social media and telephone use are part of my work day, I allowed it during the day for work purposes only, and chose two days when I'd stop using them after hours. I only answered the phone for my kids, husband and mother. I abstained from listening to music and talk radio the entire week. I don't watch television very much anyway, so it wasn't a hardship to not watch for the week. I even took one day and refrained from speaking unless I had to for work. Completely. I didn't talk to my kids or husband all day (I kind of liked that part).

The result was great. Practicing silence in all forms - speaking, listening, writing - allowed my thoughts to flow more naturally and I felt like I could hear myself and other energy sources communicating with me. I loved the experience so much that I reduced how much I listen to the radio, music, and the news on a regular basis. I tape the tv shows I want to watch and designate a day and time to sit and enjoy them - I don't flip channels looking for something to fill empty space and time. Each morning, I purposely practice silence as a part of my daily routine and meditation. I feel much more aware and in tune to myself, the people around me, and the spiritual messages around me.

But this blog is about my recent experience with my first food fast.

April 2012. My sister-friend, Yvonne, had just passed away the previous month and I couldn't bring myself to attend church. Everything reminded me of her and all I did was cry through the service. So I didn't go for a month. When I returned on April 22, they were discussing the annual fast. Each day had a personal focus like repentance or relationships. Each day required no eating until 6:00pm and only fruits and veggies could be consumed after 6:00pm. Only water and fruit juices could be drunk. No media was allowed after 6:00pm.

I felt like I needed to stop and allow me to be first for awhile. I hadn't been first while Yvonne was sick. I hadn't been first when I transported her to hospice and we began planning - writing her will, getting bank accounts in order, deeding her house, planning her funeral. I was nowhere near first as I put her needs first, then my children, then my husband, then my business. I knew I would be okay. I felt strong - stronger than anyone else in her family or mine. I felt like I was the base of the pyramid, holding it all safely together for everyone. And everyone looked to me to be there and be the strength they needed and were lacking.

So when I saw the fast coming on April 29, 2012, I knew at that very moment I wouldn't wait. I would start the next day on April 23. I liked the daily principles set by the church, but my needs were different. I decided each day, I'd wake up, see what my morning meditation told me was my focus principle and that's what it would be. Period.

I could make this blog long and drawn out. I could detail each day with funny anecdotes of how hungry I got around 3:00 each day, which made me irritable and impatient. I could also highlight the good moments when I felt clean and light and aware and strong. All those things happened. Each day was different. Day 2 was the hardest. Day 1 and 4 were the easiest. I was ready to shut it all down by Day 5, so I did. I just stopped fasting and starting eating at about 4:15pm on Friday afternoon.

When I meditated on what I learned during the fast, the most important thing had nothing to do with spirituality, strength or control. It had nothing to do with the principles on which I focused each day, even though they were great and helped me heal after my friend's death. The most valuable lesson I learned from the fast is what foods my body cannot tolerate at this stage in my life.

When I would eat in the evening during the fast, I always started with fruit. Strawberries, grapes, oranges, or a banana. I would follow that with nuts - peanuts or cashews. For dinner, I'd have a salad of carrots, cucumbers and a lettuce mix. Or I sauteed zucchini, squash and onions in garlic powder, pepper and season salt. All of it was delicious and I actually felt full each night.

Cereal and milk. That ended the joy. The bloating, abdominal pain and gas that came with my favorite quick snack were almost unbearable. I haven't used regular milk since 1999 when my son started drinking regular milk after nursing. I always use lactose-free, skim milk with extra calcium. I've been using Lactaid in the purple container with the yellow banner across the top for the last 5 or 6 years. But on Wednesday April 25, Lactaid was not my friend. And I haven't consumed it since that date.

For the last few years, I thought it was raw vegetables that had been causing me gastric distress. I LOVE raw vegetables! I'd been restricting my intake of raw zucchini, squash, carrots and broccoli for years hoping my abdominal discomfort would end. I only eat tiny meals throughout the day to lesson any pain. Now, one of my favorite meals and snack - cereal and milk - has shown itself to the culprit! I'm both happy and sad with the realization.

This month, I scheduled an appointment with a new physician - a medical internist that is also a holistic doctor. The visit was thorough and wonderfully informative. After our discussion about gastric issues and other side affects to bread, pasta and dairy, she recommended a probiotic called Align. I've been taking Align as prescribed for one week and the results have been amazing for the main symptoms. I also switched to soy milk.

My fast revealed a great deal. Things about my spirit, my strength, my tolerance, and my weaknesses. It was a spiritual reawakening, a mental rejuvenation, and a physical revelation. My husband has forbade me from ever doing it again (remember those short-tempered, irritable moments I told you about). I may and I may not. But for now, I'm where I need to be and content with today.

My Family's Safari Adventure

What should one expect to happen on a trip to a South African game lodge and safari? I thought I knew, but reality trumped my expectations.

We woke early, dressed and met the Lion’s Roar van at the entrance to our hotel. Immanuel, our driver, answered our questions about Port Elizabeth and the surrounding coastal country as we drove the 50 minutes to Hlosi, SA.

Upon arrival, we were met by Chris, an Afrikaan who was obviously nervous. He kept wringing his hands and had a difficult time meeting our eyes as he introduced himself and the lodge.

Maurice & Chris @ the Lodge

The lodge was beautifully and simply appointed with fine dark-wood furniture, comfortably cushioned chairs with hand-carved frames, and a wood fire burning in a two-sided fireplace. All of the doors and windows were opened to allow a 60* breeze to move throughout the house.

Salani, one of our hostesses invited us outside to the back deck for “high tea.” The sun was just coming up behind the ridge of mountains in the distance, and began to warm sections of the deck. Malik, my younger son and the pickiest eater of the crew, reluctantly tried what appeared to be a palm-sized pancake with cream and jam on top. “Mm,” he proclaimed, and I released the breath I was holding. My younger child hadn’t eaten more than 1 full meal since we’d left the U.S. 3 days before.

Malik Taking Tea in Hlosi, South Africa

“You’re our only guests today, so the lodge is yours to explore and enjoy,” Chris told us as we finished tea. “Anytime you’re ready to go, just let us know.”

Our safari was scheduled to be a mini three-hour driven tour of the South African countryside. Not like the multiple day tours where visitors sleep outdoors in the wilderness and interact with wildlife. So I didn’t expect much more than a guided tour similar to the safari drive at Animal Kingdom at Disney World in Orlando.

Harry, our tour guide, told us to climb up a ramp to step into an open-air hummer. Once my husband, mother, two sons and I were in, Immanuel, our driver from the hotel, decided to join at the last minute. I got the feeling he didn’t usually do this type of thing, but Harry, a pretty cheerful guy, was more than happy to have him along.

Already, the winter morning had warmed to about 65* and I was able to remove my shawl as we drove over a dusty, bumpy dirt road and passed an odd-looking animal Harry called Sneezy. He sneezed at us and we drove away.

For 10 minutes, we drove over hills and around curves before we came to an abrupt stop at the end of the dirt road. We were perched on the edge of the mountain overlooking a huge valley that reminded me of a scene from the movie Avatar. It was breathtaking and all of us were speechless. I tried to take a picture, but the image looked flat and didn’t really capture the depth of the mountains, valley, river and trees spread out before us.

A view of Hlosi, South Africa

After a few minutes of moving around the ridge taking pictures and video, we climbed back into the jeep and Harry bumped us down the side of the mountain. We came to another clearing where huge, sturdy mounds covered the ground as far as we could see. Harry stopped, hopped out and grabbed a chunk of one the mounds.

Harry Shows Termites

“This is a termite mound,” he explained. He described the type of termite found in this region of SA. “They’re a great source of protein,” he said as he picked one out of the chunk of earth and put it in his mouth! Ew. Time out.

“Are any of you interested in trying one?”

Silence. No one moved, we just looked at him like we couldn’t understand his accented English. Even Immanuel sat like a rock in the front passenger seat.

“I’ll try, why not?”

Who said that? Was that my husband? I thought to myself, “I will never kiss him again if he puts that termite in his mouth.” But… ew, I’m gagging… he put it in his mouth and started to… chew.

“Hm, it tastes minty.” Whatever.

But then, here comes my older son with that look on his face. The look that says, ‘if he can do it, so can I.’ Sigh.

“Just bite the head off, Man!” Harry said cheerily.

A bite and a chew later, another termite gone from the face of the earth. “Hm, it does taste minty!” I’m disgusted and ready to go. So we left and moved on.

Out of nowhere, a huge black ostrich jumped into the path and started running in front of us. Next to us, a small family of warthogs scampered into the brush. As we rounded a curve, the brown dirt of the road changed to white and became soft. Harry pointed and we could see the backs of elephants moving through the trees below. The white dirt turned instantly back to brown and rocks were imbedded in it. We bumped up and down along the path until Harry slammed on the brakes.

Male Ostrich Running Down The Street

“Look!” he exclaimed. “A nursery.” Sure enough, an adult giraffe was surrounded by 3 or 4 baby giraffes. Their necks looked short and their heads small compared to the mother giraffe. “This a female giraffe watching several babies. She’s probably not the mother of them all, but it’s her job to watch them for the herd,” Harry explained. He spent another couple of minutes educating us about how they sleep, the difference between the male and female and their eating and mating habits. Cool.

Baby Giraffes Peek Over the Trees

Eventually, Harry decided it was time for us to take a break. He stopped the jeep, pulled out a cloth and spread out wooden dishes and bowls. Out of nowhere he fills them with fresh veggie slices and pieces of dried meat. Amazingly, it didn’t feel strange to be eating eggrolls and samosas a few yards from a herd of zebra drinking from a water hole along the path.

Zebra @ Watering Hole

Althea, Malik & Mom Snacking on Safari

Another hour and several animals later, we witnessed a zebra, an ostrich and a gnu standing together like they were sharing a joke during a coffee break at work. We saw all kinds of unique animals and birds – some I’d seen, but several I’d never even heard of. The 3-hour trip had turned into several hours of excitement and exploration. It was all so interesting, we didn’t realize how much time had gone by until Harry announced our return as the sun started going down behind the mountains. We had to have been out there for about 4 or 5 hours.

I thought the whole thing was over and we’d drive back to the hotel, but we were asked to wash up for dinner. Andrew, our chef, was perturbed that we’d taken so long and allowed his specially-prepared dinner to get cold, so we had to rush the “wash up.”

We were served a four-course meal that included grilled ostrich, roasted stuffed chicken, and an assortment of vegetables prepared in various ways. Our dessert consisted of chocolate mousse and an exquisite date pudding.

Lil Maurice Eating Dinner @ Lodge

OMG! The date pudding was so good. I made Andrew come out from the kitchen to explain how he made it, show me the ingredients from the kitchen and, in the end, put it in a disposable container so I could take it with me. Delectable. Only Malik was displeased, but Andrew made him a last-minute fruit plate with fruits Malik hadn’t eaten before. So everyone was happy in the end.

After dinner, Chris took us to visit the cottages. They were simple but plush. Each cottage had a queen-sized bed with a pillow-top mattress and mosquito net around it. Each bathroom had a brand-new claw-foot tub, glass and marble shower and the floor was made of heated stones. It opened to an enclosed patio with an outdoor shower, Jacuzzi and a stone bench for sunning or air drying after a shower. No televisions, no internet, no telephones. A male ostrich chased a female across the lawn as we stepped onto the back porch and sat in outdoor chairs at one of the cottages. A monkey scampered up a nearby tree and a herd of zebras ran past in the fading light. I wanted to stay, but reluctantly followed Chris back to the main lodge.

Chris. The Afrikaan had originally been nervous and uncomfortable around us. Now he was making jokes, tickling Malik, and telling us about his life. He told us about moving to Port Elizabeth from “Jo’Berg” (which everyone in SA calls Johannesburg) because it was too fast-paced. He shared how much he loved the relaxed and laid-back nature of Hlosi and the surrounding small towns.

We stepped into the lobby as the sun finally disappeared. I asked Immanuel what time the soccer match between Brazil and Portugal started. He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. If you’re not in a hurry, I’d rather watch it than listen to it on the radio.”

Ten minutes later, Immanuel, Harry, my older son and I were perched around the bar at the back of the lodge watching the plasma perched above the counter. Salani served beers to the men, wine to me and a South African guava juice to Little Maurice (my kids’ new favorite drink). My husband and mother had fallen asleep by the fire in the library. My younger son was outside chasing a monkey and an ostrich.

During half-time, Salani shared her story of moving to Hlosi from Zimbabwe because of social and economic unrest in her native country. She gave us a real-life account of living in a land of fighting and governmental instability. Her mother and brother were still there, but she and her sister had come with thousands of other refugees to South Africa to look for work and a better life. They were both working and sending money and food home to their mother.

I asked Harry if they often had Black Americans visit at the resort as guests. “No, not really. Blacks from America tend to go other places for safaris and tours.”

“What about Blacks from the Caribbean?” I asked.

“Almost never. Their travel agents and tour guides connect to other townships and countries.”

Is this why we were being treated like family instead of visiting guests? Is this why we were still here when our visit was supposed to have ended 6 hours earlier? Is this why I felt like I was visiting my family in South Carolina instead of a game lodge in South Africa?

When we finally got ready to leave, it was like leaving family friends. There were tight hugs, Facebook names and email addresses exchanged, and it took another 30 minutes to actually get out the door and in the van.

I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go back to the Radisson Blu in town with its American/European amenities and W décor. I wanted to stay at Lion’s Roar where it felt like home.

Poking My Fat

It's Friday night and I'm doing what I love to do most... sitting quietly in my bed without any demands on my time and energy from work, family or friends. Tonight, I'm alternately checking all of the emails that have backed up over the week and updating my social media pages.

During my email review, an email regarding my son's soccer schedule peaks my interest. Why? Because anything dealing with soccer seems to affect my entire life. Parent meetings, player evaluations, training schedules, tournaments, away games in thunder storms that aren't canceled until we drive about an hour from home in the downpour. Crazy little things like that seem to take me away from stuff I like - teaching Yoga, networking and socializing, laying in my bed to read a good book, etc.

Anyway, the point of this particular blog has nothing to do with emails, soccer or my desire to do what I want to do. It has to do with butt fat. Stay with me for the correlation...

So, I'm reading this email about the upcoming Spring soccer game schedule when my son comes barging into the room and starts animatedly describing how he's slaughtered and demolished his father in a game on the PS3. He jumps around showing me exactly what happened on the screen, and when he finally slows down to take a breath, I interject...

"Honey, I think you need to take a look at this schedule. There are some conflicts on here that we need to discuss."

He stops mid-slide, picks himself up off the floor and lopes over to where I'm sitting comfortably against some pillows in the bed. He looks at the computer screen and absentmindedly begins to poke softly on a tiny bed of fat that has spread out from the side of my buttocks to peek out of the top edge of the comforter. As he keeps reading and poking, I look down at the little ripple of fat that he's poking. He notices me looking at his finger sinking down into the pillow of brown and says...

"It's just so pokey, Mom." Like that explains everything.

Hm. Pokey. Is that how I want the extra inch of meat extending from my hips to be described? As I'm contemplating this, my husband comes into the room, sits down on the other side of me and starts to mimic my son, pressing gently into the butt-fat on his side.

"Ooh, it is soft."

I just sit there in confusion. How do I really feel about having hip-butt-fat to poke on? Every woman wants curvy hips, right? But how much curve is just right and how much is too much? Should I be concerned about this and start a new exercise program to focus on hip-butt-fat, or should I embrace the softness that screams "I AM WOMAN!"?

Almost simultaneously, they suddenly stop poking, get up, and start punching each other and yelling about who's better at Super Mario Bros on the Wii as they tumble out of the room.

And I'm left to look at my hips. Hm...

Why I Wore My Robe In The School's Front Office

I have a perfectly legitimate reason for standing in the front office of my son’s elementary school in my robe and a raincoat this morning. See, what happened was…

My husband, being the kind and considerate man that he is, quietly prepared for work without waking me. Before leaving, he reset the alarm clock for 8:00 am – the time my older son needs to get up and get ready for middle school. Slight problem… I needed to wake up at 7:00 am to start getting the younger son ready for elementary school.

At 7:45, I woke slowly and blinked uncomprehendingly at the alarm clock. Did the clock mean 7:45 as in the bus would be pulling up to pick up my younger child in 10 minutes? The child that was still slumbering peacefully upstairs?

Since I wasn’t scheduled to teach or attend any appointments until 11:30 am, I could wake him, get him ready and drive him to school. No problem, right? Right. I put on my red and white flowered robe, went upstairs, woke both kids, talked with them while they got ready, and made them breakfast as we packed lunches.

I glanced at the clock, saw that I had 15 minutes before the drive-thru child drop-off lane at the school would close, and leisurely suggested my son grab his coat and backpack since we only live 5 minutes from the school. I put on a pair of black sneakers with my red and white robe and threw on a short, hot pink raincoat. I thought to myself, “thank God for the drive-thru child drop-off,” and proceeded to reach for my keys in the key jar.

Keys. Where were the keys? I looked around the key jar, I dug in the bottomless pit of my mom-purse, I searched my coat pockets from yesterday. Nothing. Nowhere. I glanced at the clock. 5 minutes had elapsed. Only 10 minutes left. The keys had to be somewhere. I searched the kitchen table, the family room couch, and the floor beneath the dining room chairs. Nothing. Nowhere. 3 more minutes gone. My younger son began to feel my mood changing and he became tense. “Mommy… am I going to be late?” This was not a question I felt like answering right at that moment.

Just then, I saw my husband’s house keys on the dresser in our room. If his keys were here, that meant… Yep. He’d taken my key ring to work. My ring with the van key on it. Where in the world were the spare van keys?! I dug everything out of the key jar until I found it and raced out the front door with my son jogging breathlessly behind me.

Sigh… the last car was pulling out of the drive-thru child drop-off lane onto the main road just as I was pulling in. I had no choice but to drive up to the front of the school and park. Then it hit me – I was still wearing my red and white flowered robe with black sneakers and a short hot-pink raincoat. I blinked twice, took a deep breath and walked proudly into the school’s crowded front office like it was normal for a woman to be dressed as I was in a public place. I signed my son in, kissed him goodbye and walked back to my van with my head held high. Just then my cell phone rang.

“Hey Althea, the 9:30am Yoga teacher just canceled. Can you get here and teach her class in 20 minutes?” Sigh…

The Adventures of Mommypreneur!

The last thing I did before going to bed last night was mentally go through my schedule of activities for the following day:

7:45am Attend Governmental Business Meeting
11:00am Conference Call w West Coast
12:00pm Teach Corporate Yoga Class
2:00pm Conduct Audition & Interview for New Studio Instructor
3:30pm Get Younger Son from Bus & Mommy-Time
4:30pm Older Son Home & Mommy-Time
7:30pm Lead Meditation Discussion Group at the Studio

Here’s what actually happened:

6:45am Younger Son Vomiting & Diarrhea

7:00am Older Son Disgusted & Concerned at the Same Time

8:00am Washing Younger Sick Son's Soiled clothing and Linen

9:00am Consoling Sick Son, Cleaning Poop Off Floor & Arranging Doctor’s Appointment

9:30am Paying Bills Online, Typing Newsletter, and Responding to Business Emails

10:30am Rushing Sick Son out of Bathroom to Make Doctor’s Appointment on Time

10:45am Late for Doctor’s Appointment & Stuck Behind Slow-Moving Cement Truck

11:30am Still Sitting in Dr. Waiting Room While Sick People Cough Around Me (Ew)

11:45am Using My Cell Phone in the No-Cell Phone Zone in Dr. Waiting Room To Find A Sub For My Yoga Class

11:46am Staring Down Angry, Coughing Man That’s Staring At Me For Using My Cell Phone in the No-Cell Phone Zone

12:00pm Soothing Crying Sick Son While Dr. Flanges His Ears and Swabs His Throat

12:30pm Dropping Off Sick Son’s Prescription @ Drugstore

12:45pm Enjoying Chinese Food with Sick Son Who’s Not So Sick Anymore

1:30pm Rescheduling 2:00 Audition, Writing a Magazine Article, and Folding Laundry

2:30pm Returning Missed Phone Calls, Preparing Notes for Meditation Class, and Entertaining Sick-Not-So-Sick-Anymore Son

4:30pm Discussing Why Preteen Girls Need to Work Their Triceps in PE with Older Son

5:30pm Cleaning Kitchen, Cooking Dinner, Responding to Emails, Updating My Company’s Facebook Twitter LinkedIN YouTube SlideShare Blogger and Wordpress Accounts

6:30pm Kissing Husband, Asking Him About His Day, and Smiling As I Listen Attentively

6:45pm Printing Handout for Meditation Discussion Group

7:30pm Using my Soothing Voice to Lead 12 People Through Breath and Visualization Exercises in the Dark

8:45pm Discussing My Favorite Topic, Mind/Body Connections, With Meditation Class Members

9:00pm Listening to Mom Chastise Me For Letting Her Grandson Get Sick

9:30pm Walking Around in Circle in Kitchen Confused About Where I Should Be and What I Should Be Doing

10:30pm Looking With Dismay At The Mess of Papers and Bills and Crap I Left On My Bed at 9:30am

10:31pm Leaving Bedroom Because I Cannot Handle the Mess and Clutter Right Now

11:00pm Blogging About Today Because I Can’t Get In My Bed To Go To Sleep