Day 16: Internet shopping and letting go

During the 40 Day Yoga Challenge, we were asked to consider giving up something.  Initially, I thought we were going to be required to give up caffeine and alcohol and sugar, but these teachers are embracing a gentler encouraging style (this is Berkeley, home of anti-authoritarianism, after all.)  Rather than requiring adherence to a strict set of rules, the teachers have suggested the path we might consider, leaving the decisions up to us.

In relief that I wasn't required to give up caffeine and alcohol - though I'm consciously trying to reduce my consumption of both - I've sworn off random online shopping for the 40 Days.  It's been easy to justify internet shopping, as my wardrobe has slowly been going through a major upgrade from grad student clogs and hoodies to professional professorial chic.  I typically have a hard time finding things I like when I set out to purposely shop, so when I see something that appeals to me, I tend to buy it.  Still, my online shopping has been a little haphazard, and doesn't always fill in the necessities for my closet.  This little break will allow me to be more aware of what I have and what I truly need. 

These beauties caught my eye today.  Maybe they'll find a good home with someone who's not on a shopping ban.

Tucker, via Piperlime

Via Piperlime

Days 9 - 12: Polarities

With teaching and up-coming deadlines, my week felt extra busy.  Why was I always so crunched for time?  Oh, it's the two-three hours each day required to get myself to the yoga studio, change, practice, drive home and shower. The addition of this daily commitment sent me careening between the polarities of stress and stillness.  Sitting in rush hour traffic, cursing the car trying to make a left turn ahead of me, I had plenty of time to contemplate the cosmic irony of getting stressed out on the way to yoga class - and the phenomenon of getting more stressed by doing more yoga.  By adding an extra commitment to my day, yoga was creating more, not less, stress.

I don't think it's supposed to work this way.  I suppose there's a reason why so many enlightened yogis in India were renunciates who had given up their homes, occupations and families to wander and meditate.  Unperturbed by the many distractions of daily life, they had all the time in the world to practice postures, breathing and meditation, until - POOF - they became enlightened.

I've always appreciated the Tibetan Buddhist path that claims the way to enlightenment is not to escape from the world, but to find peace and enlightenment within it, and within the practice of daily activities.  This path seems so much more practical to me:  not everyone wishes to renounce the usual aspects of their lives, but everyone can seek enlightenment within their lives.  I'm hoping that will be my experience of the 40 Day Yoga Challenge - a retreat from daily life within daily life.  I started this challenge with the hope that the additional structure of going to yoga class every day would require me to become more structured and disciplined in my daily life. (God knows I need it when my task for an entire day is "write article."  That clearly needs to broken down into more manageable and accountable steps.)

The retreat from daily life within daily life is working, but I'm not sure that I'm a calmer, more compassionate person outside of yoga class... when I'm stressing about getting to the next yoga class.  Sometimes, I feel like a recovering addict, constantly looking for my next AA meeting, and scheduling my days around when I can get to a meeting.  "No dear, I can't meet the plumber then, I'll be at yoga class... Can we push back the dinner?  I have to go to yoga class first."

Today, I decided to take a break, using my one 'day of rest from asana' per week to go to the climbing gym inside of yoga class.  I was pleasantly surprised by the strengthening and conditioning effects this first week of regular practice has had.  Perhaps next week will bring the mental calmness I was expecting...

Day 8: Accountability

I really didn't want to go to class tonight, even though it was my favorite teacher and a class I usually go to.  I was exhausted, feeling wrung out from the week, just wanting to veg in front of the tv.

Fortunately, another 40 Day Challenger said to me yesterday evening, as we parted ways, "See you tomorrow."

Such simple words.  And just enough to get me to class.

It got me thinking again about how we show up for one another in the world, and how simple actions of being present can inspire others to reach higher.

Days 7: Yoga on Skis

During the 40 Day Challenge, Saturdays are reserved for group meetings of the participating yogis.  We get information on diet, deepening the practice, staying motivated.  I'm missing this week's Saturday meeting to play in the snow.

I've found a local yoga class so I won't miss a day of yoga.  But it turns out yoga and skiing are actually quite similar.  Cross country skiing is actually just a series of Forward Lunges, over and over. 

Source

Afterward, downward-facing dog is always a good resting pose:

Source

Followed by headstand to relax tired legs:

Source

Eventually, I'll work my way up to Dancer on skis:

Source

Days 5 & 6: Gift Waves

Each week of the Forty Day Yoga Challenge has a theme.  This first week's theme was Presence:  we were to start tuning into what is going on in our bodies, with our diet, with ourselves in the world around us.  A week of Paying Attention, not zoning out.  We kept track of our meals, noting when, what, and why we ate, and how it affected us.  (Turns out I usually eat when I'm hungry, and feel more energized afterwards.  That suggests that my diet's in pretty good shape, I think.)

The synchronicities of the week were rather amazing.  At work yesterday, a colleague spoke about her grown daughter's presence as someone close to them died.  During a lengthy period of decline of this loved one, the daughter stayed nearby, unwaveringly observing the present moment and witnessing the decline without flinching or turning away, promising to stay nearby, even though she lived across the country, until recovery was achieved (which turned out not to be possible).  My colleague said that while others were undone by the death, the daughter remained calm, though sad, because she had fully embraced every moment of the decline.  

The story was an incredibly moving reminder to pay attention to the important moments that are happening all around us, everyday.

Another colleague told me that in the Tibetan language, the term "presence," especially that of a lama or enlightened being, is literally translated as "gift waves."  I love the idea that our focused attention on a person or situation might be felt emanating outward as gift waves, that attention itself is a gift. 

Day 4: On showing up

What does a yogi or yogini look like?

Tall, thin, buns of steel, guns perfectly defined, exceptional limber, beatific smile upon the face, eyes dreamily half-closed, rad dragon tattoo over the shoulder.  Right?  That's how a yogi - an American yogi, that is - looks in my mind's eye.

Then there's the Indian yogi in the loin cloth, long grey hair, and marigold mala.  Perhaps with some colorful paint on his face. Possibly with a bit of a belly.  Still with the beatific smile, though.

Like 19th century Yogavatar Shyama Charan Lahiri, also known as Lahiri Mahasaya, described in Autobiography of a Yogi.

 Matching neither of these descriptions myself, I've never identified with the name.  A yogi was someone else, someone who had practiced for a long time, someone who went on retreats, someone who practiced at home.  Someone who used the term 'practice.'  I was just someone who went to yoga class.

But when I had to introduce myself to the other 40 day challenge yogis, I realized that eleven years is quite a bit of experience with yoga, and studying in India did make me rather dedicated.  Then when the instructor of the first class during the Challenge identified the "40 day challenge yogis," and the rest of the class applauded, I realized that maybe the flexibility, and slenderness, and tats didn't matter so much.  What mattered was showing up.

Days 1-3: You say you want a revolution....

 Ye-aah, we all want to change the world.

And starting within, with the self, is where change begins.  I saw His Holiness the Dalai Lama speak about world peace years ago.  Much to my surprise, he spent most of his talk focusing on how to develop personal peace, through calming the mind.  Only toward the end of his talk did he explain that world peace is impossible without personal peace and equanimity within, and that family, neighborhood, regional and global peace flow outward from the peace within.

I'm kind of on a yoga high in these first few days of the yoga revolution.  Although it's a bit tricky to find time for class everyday, I leave feeling lighter and more energized.

However, I fear I'm making the world at large worse from my yoga practice.  Why?  Because I have increased my driving a hundred-fold, at least.  I normally bike walk* to the train to get to work, bike or walk to do errands, and, like that famed little old lady, only drive my car once a week - usually to yoga.

But now I'm schlepping seven miles across town, typically in morning or evening traffic which is slow and congested, to attend yoga classes every day.  It's too dark and cold in the evenings to bike, and with connections, the train takes nearly an hour.  I hate to think of all the extra carbon dioxide and other pollution my car is spewing into the world so that I can be a calmer, more centered yogi.

This is the kind of transport I need:

Environmentally-sound yogic transport, as seen in Amsterdam, here.

Why not just find class in the neighborhood?  When I find a teacher I like, I am shockingly dedicated.  I have tried other teachers in the past few years, but always end up going to back to the same teacher, who seems to offer the perfect balance of physical challenge and spiritual practice.  When I go to other classes, I'm like Goldilocks:  that one's too slow, that one's too fast, oooo, this one's JUST RIGHT.  

The benefit of the yoga challenge is that it forces me to branch out a bit, since my favorite teacher doesn't teach every day.  Last night, I went to a class by a new teacher, that I normally would  have passed by.  The class was both intense and restorative - entirely different from my usual teacher's style of teaching - and the teacher had an incredibly soothing voice.  I left the class unusually calm and energized.  A really pleasant discovery.


*I did bike until stupid thugs stole my locked bike right off the front porch.  In broad daylight.  While I was home!  I didn't answer when they banged on the door, and when I came out, the bike was gone.  Joke's on them, though, because the 15-year-old mountain bike wasn't worth $50.  But it sure was handy for tooling around town.

The Revolution Begins...

Who I want to be when I grow up. via FFFFOUND!

Nearly 25 of us - lycra-clad, pony-tailed, mostly women, ranging in age from college students to grandmothers - crowded into the smaller room of the yoga studio to begin our 40 Day Yoga Challenge: Revolution from Within.

The program of 40 consecutive days of yoga, meditation, dietary changes, and calm focusing is based on noted yogi Baron Baptiste's book, 40 Days to Personal Revolution: A Breakthrough Program to Radically Change Your Body and Awaken the Sacred Within Your Soul.  

 

Big promises for a program of just over a month, but my long-time yoga teacher, in whom I have great trust, promises that it is "ahhhh...mayyyyzzzing!"  

Having felt a bit like a hamster on a treadmill for the past few years - unsteadily balancing grad school, fieldwork, personal life, work, learning to be a wife - it felt like time to reclaim a bit of spaciousness and sanity in my life.  And fitness.  I spent a month over the holidays doing nothing but eating delicious foods (probably as a come down from the hectic pace that preceded the holidays), and a month after the holiday fighting off a vicious cold (ditto).  Time to ratchet back a bit and take stock of the moment.


There wasn't much active, hatha yoga in the two hour orientation today, though we were all prepared with our stretchy pants and yoga mats.  Instead, the teachers invoked the Four Directions to watch over us and purify our practice during this program.  I often feel a little itchy when well-meaning white people employ Native American practices, and today was no exception.  The invocation seemed to be be half prayer, half instructions to the students.  I would have preferred them separately.  Also, I'm unclear on the connection between an ancient eastern Indian practice, and the Native American tradition.... is there really a match?  Had we started off chanting in Sanskrit, I would have been more at ease.  However,  I'm trying to calm my judgmental, hyper-analytical mind, and what better time to begin than the beginning of the first class?  Judgment noted and set aside.


The teachers gave some instructions on food choices, and noting our mood and energy level when we eat.  I think that will be helpful.  Even more, I need to note what I'm doing when I don't eat.  During the week, I often get so caught up in meeting a deadline that I forget to eat, ending up grumpy and lightheaded hours later.  I'm not really sure why this happens, and I know my days would be more pleasant if I ate healthy meals on a regular basis.  This is a good reminder to pay attention to that.


Finally, we were released from our cross legged positions for a few Sun Salutations.  I was ready to move, it felt good to stretch.  But after only two Sun Salutations, we sat down again to proceed with introductions, facilitated by a Native American (again??) "talking stick."  Yes, it helps group process to have an item for people to hold as they speak, but this east-west mashup is bugging me.  Several people shared trying personal circumstances that had brought them to the class.  Tears flowed.  People shared their goals and desires for the class - for me, a greater sense of spaciousness and ease in my life, and a deepening of my yoga practice.  Two people had been signed up by others - a husband and father, respectively - and the lone man in the class was there because his wife was also there.  So many different motivations brought people to this program, and now we set out on a journey together.


I think the biggest challenge will be simply getting to yoga class six times a week.  Usually, I go once or twice a week, and practice a few days on my own.  Now I need to carve out time to get across town every day, and to meditate for five minutes each morning and evening.  I'll try to write about it each day, and share my progress.

Eat less, weigh more

At this time when zillions of people resolve to lose weight in the new year, a friend of mine is wondering how to gain weight.  Especially now that she's cut sugar and all meat but fish out of her diet, she's having a hard time keeping her weight up.  The months of nausea that have made all food unappealing haven't helped either.  Like many women, she struggled with keeping her figure trim in the past.  Now she's struggling to avoid looking skeletal. 

In one of those cruelly unfair twists of fate, my friend, athlete, non-smoker, and mother of two small boys, has been undergoing cancer treatments for more than a year.  She attended our wedding with her family just after finishing the first round of chemotherapy.  I was too caught up in the whirl of the day to notice how gaunt she was.  The treatments, along with the changes she's made in her diet to maximize nutrients and minimize toxic chemicals, have made it difficult for her to sustain her normal weight. 

Her current search for healthy, nutrient-rich foods made me realize how much I take my body and all it can do for granted.  I can feed it junk, I can feed it vegetables, still it (mostly) does what I want.  (Though as I get older, I definitely feel more sluggish and spacey when I gorge on refined sugar and white flour than when I eat Brussels sprouts.)

Like so many other people, I resolved to get into better shape in the new year:  lose the seven pounds I gained over the holidays (an extended bout of the appetite-killing Demon Cold seems to have taken care of that), stop eating fattening foods, eat more vegetables, get into aerobic shape, do more yoga.

When my friend wrote looking for advice about what foods could help her gain weight, I had an inspiration.  I am going to "give" all my rich and fattening foods to her.  Since she wants to gain weight, and I want to lose weight, I am going to "give" my nuts, cheeses, ice cream, pastas, etc. to her.  Whenever I want to eat these foods, I'll symbolically pass them off to her, imagining her gaining weight and reclaiming her former strength and vitality.  And I'll grab a carrot.

This will help me be more conscious of what I eat, and it will remind me of healthy, hearty foods that I can suggest to her.  And hopefully, the constant stream of positive thoughts in her direction will have a positive impact on her health.  At least, I hope so.

What are your favorite weight-inducing foods?  Leave them here - even recipes! - I'll pass them on to my friend, and your diet will be lightened for the year.  My friend doesn't eat sugar, so the ice cream, cookies and chocolate (my downfall) are still yours to handle.

Simply elegant silk wedding dress for sale

It's a year on past the wedding, and I'm cleaning out my closet....

My first instinct for the wedding was that it would be a super-simple, no-fuss affair.  Accordingly, I found a lovely ivory silk dress, by Tadashi, one of my favorite designers, that seemed perfect for the beach.

That was before I got in touch with my Inner Fairy Princess Bride, and realized that I needed something with much more drama and oomph. Simple was not to be.

Now I'm selling this first dress on ebay.  Check it out, and let me know if you have any questions.  The fabric is actually much more ivory than it appears in this photo.  It's really lovely 100% silk, with a polyester lining.

I still think it would be perfect for a beach-side or mountain-top wedding...

Breath-taking

Our Labor of Love 

I'm pretty much over reading wedding blogs, but today I clicked over to this via Simple Lovely, and was astounded at these gorgeous images.

To be wed in Marrakesh, amid camels, candles and loved ones... now there's an adventure! More here.

Oh, and: the bride didn't wear white! Check it, Sera.

Not what I expected

Our first anniversary, in my imagination: us, together.

A funky-chic B&B in the redwoods.  Fancy clothes, frozen cake. Sipping Champagne on the deck, watching the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean.

source

Our first anniversary, in reality:  me, myself, on a plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, headed for Asia.  Delay-plagued Skype calls home.  Meetings into the evening.

Remembering the words of advice friends shared at the wedding:

"Love does not consist of gazing at each other (one perfect sunrise gazing at another) but in looking outward together in the same direction."  (Anne Morrow Lindbergh, A Gift from the Sea)

"... And stand together, yet not too near together,
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow."

(“On Marriage,” from The Prophet, Kahil Gibran)

This is the lesson I learn again and again:  It won't look like you expected.  It may not bear any semblance to your imagination.  It may be better than you ever imagined.  It takes audacity to shape a marriage into your own.

(The redwoods and frozen cake can wait...)

A honeymoon 'du

Suppose you were to go on your honeymoon to Nepal.  You would choose autumn, of course, because the skies are the clearest, and the chance of rain the lowest.  On good days, you would glimpse the snow-covered high Himalayas from Kathmandu Valley.

Before trekking around Annapurna or up to Everest Base Camp, you might choose to stay at the Godavari Village Resort, on the outskirts of Kathmandu, where you would find splendid views of idyllic rice paddies and hills, and possibly the high peaks glistening in the distance.

You could go for a morning walk through the mist, as farmers prepare for their day's labors in the fields.

On such a walk, you might come across a fertility temple, where Shiva lingams bless those hoping for children.

Making your way back for breakfast, meandering among the rice paddies, you could marvel at the mysterious placidity of the landscape...

And wonder if you might stay a bit longer to savor all the delights of a magical land.

I do, I do, Kathmandu!

Newly-hatched ducklings fall for the first thing they see - mama duck or not - and will follow whoever, or whatever, this being is wherever it goes.  The ducklings imprint on the first being - dog, duck or human - they lay eyes on, and that becomes central to their understanding of the world.  

Or so I learned in high school biology.  This theory may have been overthrown by now, but at the time I was fascinated by the idea that one brief experience could so profoundly shape the trajectory of the duckling's life.  

I think it's the same with international travel.  Wherever you go first, as an impressionable young thing, shapes all future approaches to travel.

Oddly, my first significant overseas trip (beyond the family jaunt to England when I was six) was to one of the least developed countries, half a world away.  It now seems strange that growing up in a midwestern suburb, I would set my eyes on Nepal for my college semester abroad.  Couldn't I ease into foreign travel, like my friends who studied in Florence and London?  No, my rationale was that those places would always be there, but I would only be young and adventurous enough for the remote corners once.  

 

I dove into the deep end, a distant place, foreign to my experience in every way, that expanded my brain until my ears were ready to pop off the sides of my head.  The city was green, cows and bicycles vastly outnumbered cars, huge smiles lit the faces of everyone I met.  I was in the thrall of the exoticism of the place - fragrant smoke from temples and kitchens hung in the air, around every corner lay a surprise, some curiosity I had never dreamed of - and being so far from home for the first time.

Since then, returning to Nepal, and especially to Kathmandu, feels like a sweet, crazy reunion, like re-meeting an exotic, jet-setting spinster aunt, whose bracelets jangle and whose sentences never quite make sense.  

More than a decade after my college experience, a research fellowship granted me a year in Nepal, during which I kept a flat in Kathmandu, and spent months in the mountains.  I fell in love with the city, even as it had grown choked with villagers fleeing Maoist rebels in the rural areas.  

Car and motorcycles clogged the streets, the two-stroke engines causing a thick pall of pollution to fall over the bowl-shaped city in the winter.  White shirts were grey by the end of the day, and a trip into the city center would result in hacking up black phlegm. 

The friendliest people in the world were now suffering a deep depression as a civil war wracked the country and the throngs of tourists stayed home.  No one wanted to take a vacation in the middle of someone else's war, much to the detriment of the Nepali economy.  Despite the violence, pollution, curfews, and demonstrations, Kathmandu was still magical, the colors of saris and salwars a delight to the somber Western eye, the juxtaposition of religious monuments with urban squalor a constant reminder that enlightenment would not happen at some future place or time, it had to happen in the midst of the chaos of life.

Mt. Everest, the world's tallest peak, viewed from a plane.

A few years after that, I returned again, for a winter holiday break from my Himalayan research.  Kathmandu, with its cosmopolitan tourists, banana pancakes, North Face gear, and trendy restaurants was the best approximation of home I could devise. I meant to attend a friend's wedding as well, though, confusingly, information about the date and time never materialized. These things happen in Kathmandu.  Time is a malleable concept when living in the present.  On New Year's Eve, the streets were packed with revelers from all over the world. 

New Year's Eve, 2007, Thamel, Kathmandu

A week in the big city, receiving the ministrations of an ayurvedic spa, eating good food and shopping for gifts left me considerably restored and ready to return to work after the holidays.

Now, once again, my bag is nearly packed with two methods of water purification, a voltage adapter, an unlocked cell phone, sunscreen, layers, long pants, and plenty of books to keep me busy on the 14 hour flight.  Kathmandu, here I come!

Wedding Guest Hat-astrophe

The latest wedding invitation calls for "Kentucky Derby hats" in honor of the bride's home state.  Hmmm.... I haven't been to Kentucky since I was a kid, and have no idea what's stylish at a horse race.

A quick Google search reveals that
1) Kentucky Derby hats are the size of UFOs
2) They are best worn with sundresses or linen suits,
3)  It's hard not to look matronly in a huge hat unless you're British, and
4) All the best Hats are made in the UK.  When we threw off the yoke of monarchy, we also lots a fair bit of our style.

I quickly concluded that I would not be purchasing a full-on Kentucky Derby hat that would get worn once and gather dust in the closet.  Maybe a fascinator is the way to go, but the ivory one I wore nearly a year ago screams wedding.

I turned to my best friend Etsy, which did not disappoint......  For brides who embrace color, some of these could be fun.

CherylatHatLover

 Amazing!  And British.  Like I said....

Hatsbycressida

 Oooo, even more fun!  I love the wild festiveness of this one!  But, with a week before the wedding, I don't think it will get to California from the UK in time.  Maybe for the next party....

The closest thing I found stateside was this lovely from Pegasusmaiden.

Pegasusmaiden

Flowers could be nice...

lovelygifts

This would be lovely for an ethereal forest nymph style wedding.

CastleMemories

Finally, I remembered that Satanica was all over the Interwebs when I was looking for wedding finery.  And not everything they make is white.

Satanica

Satanica

In a similar vein, for only $13, I like this headband from WeeGardens.

WeeGardens

More peacock feathers at LovMely.

LovMely

The Disco Flower is always fun, too.

Handle & Spout

What about you?  Are you wearing fabulous headwear?  What's your favorite source?  Have you done the hat/ fascinator look for a night out?

Why can we walk barefoot on beach and not on mountain?

This search query made me giggle, so I wanted to share it. 

I'm not sure that the author of that question could find the answer on my blog.  In fact, I would advocate walking barefoot on the beach, on the mountain, wherever your wandering feet take you... as long as there's no broken glass or hypodermic needles.  Some of the best rock climbers climb barefoot.

Just for the record, I don't advocate walking barefoot at work (except in the privacy of your own office, or maybe at an off-site, outdoor retreat).  Nor do I suggest walking barefoot on public transit (though I've seen it done), in crowded dance clubs and bars (smashed tootsies), or in restaurants (against health code).  You can probably get away with it at the symphony, though, if you wear a long down/ floor length pants.

Here ends today's public service announcement.

The dilemma of the modern wife

With the light slanting to indicate autumn, and the Bay Area temperatures finally approximating summer, I am transported to this time last year, and eagerly anticipating our first wedding anniversary six weeks from now.

During that week, Eric and I both have work-related travel scheduled.  I was adamant that we should be together at least some time during the weekend on which our anniversary falls.  He'll return from the east coast a day before I have to depart for an annual departmental retreat.

But wait!  I've been invited to a week-long planning meeting for a really interesting project in Asia the same week.  Participating in the meeting would mean missing the departmental retreat, and leaving the US two days before our anniversary.  This, after I insisted that he get home in time to celebrate! 

The timing feels like a cosmic joke:  take the romantic route, choose to celebrate your anniversary on the actual day; or take the professional route, and jet off to Asia instead.  To be clear,  Eric is absolutely fine with me grabbing this opportunity now, and celebrating our anniversary with a long weekend up the coast later in the fall. 

I'm the romantic here: we have a first anniversary only once, and I'd like to eat thawed wedding cake and dance around in my wedding dress on the actual day.  The practical and ambitious side of me knows this is a great opportunity, and I'd be foolish to pass it up.  Still, do they have to be on the same day? 

What would you do, oh recent wives and brides-to-be???

If you must give wedding favors....

A Green Revolution wedding might forgo favors to prevent unnecessary waste - how many people really eat those little almonds wrapped in tulle???

Or, you might show your good taste with gifts that can be used again and again...

A brightly-colored reusable tote, and fresh local organic produce will counteract too much cake and boozin', and remind your guests of your thoughfulness every time they go to the supermarket.

Thanks to Stephanie for the photo!

Telling stories

When I started teaching, I was alarmed to learn that a female student had been dissuaded from particular areas of study by a senior professor who suggested that women were too enmeshed in the pragmatics of daily life to do the abstract theorizing necessary for higher scholarship.  All my years of egalitarian experience slammed into the brick wall of outmoded attitudes about bodies and gender.  As if living back in the Renaissance, scholars were supposed to be disembodied minds, removed from the material world, while women were consigned to the material world through the necessity of their bodies.

Apparently, this professor hadn't heard of the theorizing that arises from personal experience.  Somehow, the notion that the personal is political had not infiltrated that particular ivory tower.

Fortunately, though, the blogosphere gives us a broad platform for telling women's stories - not only of weddings, but of marriages, careers and daily lives - and showing,through concrete example, how the personal and political intersect and shape one another.  Telling stories is a concrete form of activism, a way of taking up space, giving voice to our experience, and saying that it matters.

Today, there are two spectacular stories about power, and change, and women's lives.  You must read How Love Can Heal and Anna (of Accordians and Lace) on Idiosyncratic Skills.  These are stories of the hardscrabble lives of women who probably have more useful, world-changing wisdom and insight in their little fingers than that ivory tower professor accumulated in countless years of theorizing.

What a difference a year makes!

Psyche!  This is not a wedding anniversary post.  For that, you'll have to wait a couple more months.

This is a doctorate anniversary post.  Equally significant in my mind.*  The last academic hurdle: now I get to learn to be the expert.  Sure, there are other hoops to jump through:  tenure/ contract renewal, The Book, this #@$)~*%# article that's been torturing me all summer.  For now, it's nice to know that I've got the Seal of Approval, entitling me to take on such projects.

Last year, I didn't even know it was summer.  The only evidence of change was the creep of the afternoon sun up my office walls, where I was cloistered, 12-18 hours a day, pounding away at the dissertation that I had rashly promised my future employers I could complete in a year.

That hasty promise, made months before I began writing, before I even began analyzing the data, while I was, in fact, still in the field collecting data, came back to bite me in the butt** last summer as I typed furiously to meet a deadline that my advisor had initially said was impossible.  I met it without a day to spare.

As 18th century author and lexiographer Samuel Johnson said, the prospect of a hanging concentrates the mind wonderfully.  Indeed.  I've always been deadline driven, and the biggest writing project of my life was no exception.

But, I missed some of my favorite things in life: ice cream on warm evenings, chatting with friends over cold drinks, travel, mountain hikes.  All was put on hold for the tyranny of my final academic deadline.  The constant panic and anxiety I felt spurred me on to work harder - when it didn't paralyze me. I was happy to have wedding planning as a constructive distraction when the dissertation felt just too weighty.

This summer, though, this summer... it's SUMMER!***  Though Eric had his own major deadline this summer, we've made the most of our freedom from strict schedules.  We started out here, in May, following a work-gig that took Eric to Milan:

Bonus points if you know the locale.

Hint.  (They clearly have great taste!)

By early June, we were soaking in art in Florence.

On a tour of a Tuscan castle winery, surrounded by a bunch of 20-something honeymooners from the States, we realized that it wasn't too late to consider our trip Part III of Multi-part Global Honeymoon Tour.

Former family home to the namesake of the Verrazzano Bridge

Next stop on the Global Honeymoon Tour was Seward, Alaska, where the food didn't exactly live up to that of Italy.

 The best and biggest dinner around.

We earned our dinner by hunting the ever-elusive Loch Ness Monster...

(Ok, you got me.  It's really a mother and baby humpback whale playing.  Nessie prefers the Atlantic.)

....communing with friendly marmots (which apparently could grow to super-size with climate change)...

and visiting yet another receding glacier****...

Where it was in 1926

The Seward Exit Glacier today.

One of my work projects this summer took me to this spectacular spot, where people live off the grid, dependent on the sun for all their energy, and the mountain snowmelt for their all their water, including for the organic gardens. I was able to unplug from internet and gaze at the Milky Way each night for an entire blissful week.  What a treat to have work that requires being in these beautiful mountains!

Lama Foundation, New Mexico

Finally, back home, we took in some local nature, at the awesome National Seashore just north of our wedding site.... more on that tomorrow.




* And all the sweeter (and way more bearable) for having someone to share it with.  I cover my ears when he makes noises about getting a PhD.  Does he really want to enter that special hell???


**Quite literally. I developed a tailbone injury from spending so much time sitting!  My one break from the desk chair was to see the physical therapist who insisted that I get more exercise.


*** You'd never know it from the foggy, chilly weather here in the Bay, though.

**** The cynical among you may be asking what my contribution to climate change is, with all this flying around.  This issue continues to vex me.  My work and family life are both international in scope, and it's hard to reconcile keeping up with my family and my field while being worried about climate change.  When I'm home, I rely on my bike and hope that it offsets my plane travel a little.