The Wedding Party

After a summer of drought, Issac brought the rain. Rain, rain, and more rain. So much of a good thing...

Today was the gathering for flower arranging for tomorrow's wedding. It sounded like fun and was a huge push for me to move beyond my home and socialize with new and interesting people. Besides, my friend is getting married. Let's go see...

Fresh picked organic flowers from the farm and neighbors

The table of completed center pieces with an artist still at work.

The musicians and officiates for tomorrow's ceremony

My creation. You're going to see a lot of this as I posit ideas about the arrangement.

Another table of arrangements.

After we finished, we had the flower parade and took photo with our creations

We were given the greenery, clippers, and thousands of flowers to create our master/mistress pieces. There were refreshments available - beer, sparkling water, cheese, hummus, crackers and pita chips. The musicians played as we worked, talked and socialized. It was a fabulous way for family and friends to met and share time and space.

However, because of all the rain, there was even more work to get ready for a farm wedding...

Inside the tent we spread straw to cover the muddy ground. Later we set up the tables. Tomorrow, we will arrive early to hang decorations, set the tables and prepare for guest. I was not actually planning to return before the wedding, but if you had seen the sad look on this guy's face when I said that you would understand why I will.

This is good for me. I am strong, capable, and competent. I may as well get out of bed and go help all the other people who showed up have a fabulous day. They came from Iowa. Me, I'm just thirty minutes down the road.

Conduits toward Connection

Back in the day, my friends were a part of my daily, if not weekly life. My children lived at home and I was out and about town. BITD, I worked in a social justice store front and hung out with those of like mind while listening to the latest trance ambient, singer songwriters, and politically significant mediums – CD or radio. My entire life revolved around changing my world, expanding my life and my love. And I did!

Then one day, many jobs later, less “friends” and family moving, shifting, changing and scattering, I was out of the loop. I met new people at the occasional gathering or forum only to have them up and move away. But that’s how it is in a college town. I have stayed here. Built my home. Established a foundation.  For many this is merely a weight station to collect their designated form and letters then move on. When I asked, “How shall I find you?” the response was to always check MySpace. And so it began.

My initial account was opened to follow my friends as they traveled onward. It became the opportunity to stay in contact with my children as well. Not only to send and receive messages, but to follow their lives, interests, and exploits. (Though honestly, there were times I had more information that I needed.)

Many years have passed and all my children have journey into the world. All my friends are scattered across the country to be re-membered in my heart. Still, I am thankful for the virtual gathering afforded those of us separated by distance in the form of FaceBook.  Whether it is a message, poke, or brief note on the wall, we acknowledge the continued presence until we meet again. FB also gives us a brief glimpse into each other’s lives through pictures posted, friends added and “likes.” My profile is not bloated with extras but streamlined to those with whom I have an active connection with in my heart/mind.

Most recently, I  “liked” a collection of large body yoga pages. I have been searching for years for this connection, even writing for blogs that held that claim and direction, only to find interest dwindling after a few posts. Imagine my excitement when I realized there are so many other women out there reaching and writing about teaching and practicing yoga in a round body.

FB has become a way for me to organize my interests in one location. Yes, I could follow their blogs and post through email or even as a part of this blog, but with FB this is already done and I find that I can track more easily whether I want to continue “liking” a page or if it was just a few ideas that attracted me. It’s like dating without giving out your contact info. If this is really someone you like, then you can subscribe by email. When you are ready to share the connection,  post to your blog. I like FB as a filter.

I like the up to date photo posting and ability to review videos, ideas, places with “friends.” This opens the discussion that others may share their opinions or views. Can I make an inference from the discussion? Am I willing to support an opposing view? Social networking has taken the coffeehouse banter on the road and into virtual space. We can join in wherever we are, and as we choose (preferably with some forethought).

Of course, I know I am writing about high ideas and not about who is online at what time and who just “friended” who. I will skip the drama of what was said and how that drama unfolded, in public, no less. Then there are the privacy issues and adverts that seem to be marketed to your very thoughts. What of who is looking at your profile and making incorrect judgments about your life? All very possible and probably issues, but none of them mine.

I read, write, work, play, garden, think, and spend time being.  I notice when my friends take a break from FaceBook. I notice, but that is no matter. My friends live in love, in the most sacred place – in my heart.

Namaste

Friends with Benefits

What are the considerations of having sex with those we call friends?  How can we expand to maintain a supportive, loving and clear relationship with those we have relegated to meeting our sexual needs in absence of a romantic partner? How does the choice to give ourselves in this “friend” relationship effect our possibilities (or choices) to reach out for a mate, partner, lover in their own right?

Before tackling the above questions, perhaps we need define our friendships. I think there was a time when the term “friend” was not applied to one who was not enemy. To say someone was with your friend was to align with them and they with you. There was a shared commitment to reach for understanding and provide support. Friends were the people we trusted to tell us the truth, not merely smile in our faces and tell us things would be okay.  Because in the not okay places in life, friends step in. They are the reminders of brighter days, clearer moments, and  the hope that no matter the circumstance there is a way through.

With that understanding of friendship can I call on those I tag as “friends?” Today we have people at work we call friends. Granted we spend more time with them than we do our families, but can they show up in our dark places baring light? What of Facebook friends? Facebook serves as a social networking tool to connect and reacquaint us with others (who may or may not be interested in who we are). As the friend list grows we extend ourselves into worlds unknown, much like an unending web, well beyond our sight and understanding. But what of the silent moment when we need merely one person who will speak to our heart? Providence says there is always help for those who ask. Can we still remember to ask when it seems so plain that with three hundred/thousand FB friends, surely one will know our need? Social networking sites give us a false sense of connection, leaving us vulnerable to emptiness when we have neglected to build personal (in person) connections and communities.

Choosing how and when we connect deserves thought and consideration for the moment and beyond. Establishing boundaries that allow us to live fuller freer lives is in the purview of friendship. As I search for an ideal partner I call upon the opinions of my friends to see more than my excitement or investment can, and to make known the truth of the union I propose. Can I be in sexual liaison with one supposing to honor my search? Can I crawl from one bed and long for another? Well, of course, I can, but is my heart open to receive what is best for me while I seek momentary contentment in my “friendship?”

On the other hand, or side of the bed, the reality exist that we have “friends” that show up to support our sexual needs. When we are clear that no interest in relationship exist then the moments we share rest in the present. Leaving behind serial monogamy we rest our sexual interest safely in the arms and hearts of this friend. This is not to deny any elements of closeness, comfort, or caring, but to affirm the option to choose one who agrees to show up with us.

Still, is sex in friendship, the benefit? Human sexual expression can be powerful and connective tool, after closeness. But closeness and connection are benefits in themselves. Sexual expression comes with its own set of hooks and demands, asking more of its participants that they may be ready to recognize, accept, or receive.

Let us take our lovers where we choose as we find them, and leave our friends to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives.

"A friend loveth at all times."

What would your best friend do?

I am a strong advocate for self love, especially for loving the body you live in, and in doing so celebrating all aspects of what you look and feel like each day – joy and pain. I live in a house filled with mirrors on most of the walls.  To avoid your reflected image you would literally have to close your eyes and risk bumping into walls. That said, I managed to gain sixty pounds and miss the hip, butt, thigh expansion.  Just missed it.  It helped that I lived in long flowing dresses and skirts, sarongs, and naked.  You would think the naked part would have shed some light, but I was oblivious to the shift for years.  I am quite positive I was between 210 – 220 pounds  for over three years.  Not much on scales, but an occasional check in offered the information.  It was the increased backaches and lack of relief through massage and gentle movement that prompted the check in that found me at 280 pounds. 

“Wow!” was about all I could say. I decided that I would go home and give it some more thought. As I lay in bed, I decided that I would rest for the month and then get up and move with some purpose come November.  That would be my birthday gift to me. I did exactly that.  I joined the gym up the way.  It is associated with a health program for people with health challenges and free of the stereotypical gym rats; lots of elderly men and women, some with walkers and wheelchairs, others strong, fit, and active daily.  Most of all, it was a setting that welcomed those who had been sedentary for years.

I worked out – lots.  The weight came off – lots.  I felt better – lots. Was life better?  Some. I had found a new focus, friends, and activities. My personal relationship did not fare so well.  My partner at the time did not care for movement.  While she was supportive of my going to do, she was not interested in going to do with. So, I found friends I could walk with, and with whom to run and bike.  The problem, eventually, was that those activities took place early in the morning (meaning 0600) and in order to be awake and motivated at that time I had to be asleep by 2100 (9 pm). No more late nights at the club, or just hanging out.  And I didn’t care to have my sleep disturbed. My life shifted, for the better.

The issue I raise is that the one compliment I could count on was how much “better” I looked.  Apparently, I looked like a house before and after my workout program I was, what, a tent, and apartment? Over the past five years, I have regained forty of the eighty pounds I dropped. Initially it was because lack of movement due to illness; then the treatment for the pain (prednisone). After three years of treatment I gave up prednisone and decided to adjust to the sensation.

My question that began this monologue questions the concept of support. Without being disrespectful or nagging, I think I expect my friend to say to me, “Hey girl, aren’t those pants a little tight?” “Are you jeans cutting into your thighs?” “Are those cootie cutters?” If I complain about my back, a reminder that walking with ease the pain, or that perhaps a particular yoga pose might help would seem reasonable from a friend.

If is reasonable for someone to comment on the loss of weight (as though you are looking for it) why not the gaining of same? What is the need of embarrassment? Not that either is necessary from the general public and I have to work hard not to say so.  This is about best friends. You put on a dress that is so not becoming.  You expect your friend to say, “Honey, that color makes you look washed out, etc.” How can we have a truly supportive relationship if the topic of weight gain is off limits?  For me, I really didn’t notice. I was living and loving, dancing and singing, playing, camping, and having the best time. Even in retrospect, it is hard for me to understand how I gained sixty pounds in what seems to have been two years. I know I left a seriously troubled relationship and began a new one with someone who cooked all those yummy foods I had not eaten, ever.  I was delighted to enjoy such indulgences and did so with others who did as well.

Where were my friends?  How is it that no one would offer that perhaps I might join them for an evening walk? No, I am not shifting my responsibility to others, I am just asking, if you can’t count on your best friend to tell you your ass is getting fatter, who can you count on? Strangers don’t count! Neither do rude, nagging family members. Probably not lovers either, unless they also happen to be friends and are signing up for the walk with you.

So, I am that friend.  I still live and love in a sweet large body, with a big ass. I also walk, workout, practice and teach yoga. I lay around and stretch just like my cats and dog. I wear long flowing dresses again and scrubs with no give. My scrubs are the voice of reason for me. My indulgences are few.  Every now and then I eat chips for dinner.  I fine balance after the fact. Balance is the key. This is not a weight loss discourse, but a find support discourse. I walk with my friends and when I notice that their waist line is growing, I speak up.

Some people don’t like scales. Me, I do.  I am not ruled by it (otherwise I would have stopped before I was 280, maybe, or not). I count it as information, just like waist size, or thigh tightness of my pants. Here’s another choice for those reluctant to give voice to the concern. Take a walk or class with a friend.  Go dancing.  Play outdoors. Toss a ball. Jump rope. Balance on line or beam. Find some way to share body awareness with each other.  We eat and drink together.  Let’s move together too. That’s what friends do.

Friends love each other enough to reach out and offer to help shift the situation for the each other’s highest good; in love.