Why not? Just a proviso: I’d love it if you did this too, but I ain’t gonna tag you – if you want to play, let me know, and goooo for it!

I don’t think  I can compete with item six on her list:

6. When I was born I nearly died of haemolytic disease of the newborn and had to have an exchange blood transfusion to replace all my red blood cells at birth. Given that I’m the oldest child, this means my mum unknowingly had a miscarriage before I was born. Nowadays this is prevented by giving prophylactic anti-D injections to pregnant mums with O- blood group. Modern medicine can be great!

But I shall try. Funnily enough, I am O minus, and this issue was one that the good people of the  UK Blood Services once sent me a video about. Since I know I’ve had a miscarriage, if I ever find myself pregnant again, this will be Something to Tell My Doctor.

Ok, the random stuff. Probably been repeated otherwhere on this blog, but alors…

1. My thumbs & big toes are strangely shaped. Very strangely shaped. But they’ve never worried me. My perfectly normal nose, on the other hand, was the subject of teenaged fantasies about nose jobs. Go figure.
2. I’m enjoying my thirties more than any other decade of my life so far, despite the fact that by society’s standards it probably looks like I have made backwards progress.
3. I really, really like lists. Bulleted lists. Numbered lists. To-do lists. Shopping lists. All are welcome in my obsessive little world.
4. When I was a toddler, my dad ran over me by mistake. Apparently I had a predilection for crawling into the driveway and lurking unseen in the path of reversing cars. All I have to show for it is a vague memory of being very frightened, with my mom crying over me in the bath, and a tiny cicatrice on the back of my right thigh. Miracle? I’d have to say yes.
5. I have the World’s Biggest Calves. And they’ve gotten bigger. All the walking perhaps? I simply cannot find boots that simultaneously fit my fairly small feet and narrow ankles, and my calves. Even the boots I already own are now constricting in a most unpleasant manner.
6. A large part of the reason I love living in Melbourne is that I don’t have to drive. I am a nervous driver, and some years ago had a Very Bad Accident in which my great granny, my granny, my mom and I nearly met our ends. I am no longer willing to do long distance road trips in which I drive. And I’m ok with that. I feel no need to face up to this particular fear. Some people are afraid of flying, I’m afraid of driving. I am actually a rather nervous passenger too, unless I trust the person driving. I tend to brake for them and so on. It is, I am sure, very annoying. But trams and trains? Not a problem.
7. I used to talk in my sleep, and sometimes walk, and once, I attacked my poor husband (when he was still my husband) during the night because I was dreaming that I was being assaulted. If I recall correctly, he ended up with a bruised eye. I felt so bad about that. And oddly enough, I still fidget, I think, but I’m pretty sure I no longer talk or walk or attack people. Of course, I can’t be one hundred percent sure, since I don’t really have anyone to give me feedback on that.
8. I have never, ever, kept a diary or journal for longer than a few days at a time. This blog is the closest I’ve come, and I keep doing it because the stats thingy tells me several hundred people visit every day. Hi you guys. Thanks for keeping my clearly exhibitionist self writing. I don’t always manage to READ all the great blogs out there, but at least I write.
9. I don’t think this is little-known about me, but it’s certainly random: I’m a hedonist. And proud of it. Pleasure and comfort are, along with a desire to feel I’m making a difference in the world, the things that motivate me most strongly. I really can’t live in an environment that I consider ugly or not clean enough, and I would rather not eat than eat something, like KFC or McDonald’s, that I consider to be Not Food.
10. Lip balms are my crack. I currently have about seven. I know that’s too many, but I can’t help myself. Their shiny, scented, flavoured goodness is just impossible for me to resist. People who know me well know that this is a perfect go-to gift for me, and it will always be well-received. I most adore the ones that don’t have all that weird petrolatum nonsense in them. Those are in the category of not-real; basically the McDonald’s of the lipbalm world.

Who wants to play? I know the Green Ink Girl (whose blog I only discovered recently and rather love) has been tagged already, and Mary (who’s been blogging longer than me I think) and I’d love to know what’s in their proverbial closets. The rest of you? If you don’t have a blog, you could leave a list on the comments, maybe? Or email me…

It would be awesome if we could gather up a whole bunch of interestingness. And republish the best of, maybe?

Feature Wall - Il Fornaio by avlxyz

• Il Fornaio coffee, almond croissant & Ethiopiques on the iPod. Perfect Saturday morning. Especially since it started too early, and there was Not Enough Sleep. And we all know what happens when I don’t get enough sleep. Yes, that’s right. The Paranoia. Coffee and sugar tend to help a little
• Quinces! Yes! And making Quince glaze out of Nigella’s How to be a Domestic Goddess. Double yes!
• Pomegranates. And persimmons. Oh, I love obscure & seasonal fruit. And I love that Il Fornaio had all these things for sale when I stumbled in for my coffee feeling rather ragged. Yes, yoginis are sometimes immoderate in their behaviour. This one is, anyway. In fact, as I have mentioned before, I only have the two settings: On, or Off. I ‘m working towards more balance. It’s a process. At least I have balance around food now. Not that you would think it from my preoccupation with good things to eat

• Speaking of which, the text I got from a friend this week telling me she had dreamt about tofu after I made Sophie Dahl’s scrambled tofu with pesto for her! Sample pages from that amazing cookbook here
• This is a point of amusement: I am a truly useless tea-maker. You’d think it would be really simple, right? But if it’s not herbal or green, you can be fairly sure your tea will be too weak, or too milky, or otherwise subtly off. Bizarre, non?
• Cool crisp weather. And hot water bottles. And walks on the beach in said weather. Not with the hot water bottles though. Those can stay at home
• Learning new ways to be. So hard, but also so rewarding. I am here to tell you that you don’t have to repeat unconstructive patterns all your life if you don’t want to. You can choose, every day, to make different choices, choose different reactions and behaviours
• Apivita‘s Cleansing Face Mask with Pink Clay. A deep-clean, hydration, and delicious scent all in one. Perfect for tired skin!
• Did I mention the Ethiopiques? Can’t. Stop. Listening. Funkalicious
• Connection. We had Free Form this week, and at dinner (Bopha Devi Docklands, v nice) on girl told me that although she only moved to Melbourne from Adelaide a few months ago, she bumps into people all over the city whom she knows. From yoga class. How cool is that? The Free Form dinners, which are always better attended than the actual yoga, have created a community. Yay!
• Long phone talks with favourite girls. Oh my, I missed you this week, Miss Fox

A little while ago, after my customary overthought (real word, didn’t just make it up) I took a leap of faith. A big jump. Right this moment, I am not sure whether I am going to fall on my feet, or perhaps, metaphorically speaking, break both ankles when I land. Who knows, there might just be an endless free fall.

But. I jumped.
I jumped.
And that makes me braver than I thought I was.

Have you ever jumped? Was it easy for you? How did your risk work out?

Around my house, it’s time to get serious about trying to get pregnant. I’m terrified, and I realized last night it’s because I will have to give up so much control over my life. How do you do that? How do you go from “I make my own destiny” to “Let’s see what happens…” over night? I don’t know if I can do it.

After this, my friend Melanie and I had an email exchange about surrender too, so I thought, what the hell, let me tell you all my views! Oh, the infinite narcissism of the blogger. The last year has helped me understand the concept of surrender a little better, but it’s still something I struggle with.

I guess it’s a contextual thing: sometimes it’s appropriate to surrender, and sometimes it isn’t. My understanding of the concept of surrender can be summed up in Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

It’s discerning what we can and can’t control that makes the whole thing so complicated. Because it seems rather silly to surrender in an unacceptable situation when it can, in fact, be changed, with enough perseverance. Witness the efforts of Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela. They did not surrender. They could have, the outlook didn’t look marvellous for either of their cause. But. It was an unacceptable situation. Which could, and eventually did, change. But pregnancy? Some of that is in the hands of the Divine. Same with relationships, I believe.

When my marriage ended, I had been trying very hard, for quite some time, to make it work. Eventually, I let go, I listened to the (very, very loud) messages my body and soul were sending me, and I surrendered my idea of a Perfect Life. I remember walking through the park one day, soon after we split up, and feeling this tremendous sense of lightness. The worst that could happen had happened, and, here was the exciting bit, at that moment, I didn’t care at all what people thought about me. I was free. Just me. Because I had let go, opened my hands and surrendered.

Unfortunately, I soon started to care what people thought again. Deep pattern, hard to break. I just don’t care as much as I once did. This is such a relief, and now I consciously practice letting go of my attachment to other people’s approval. What they think of me has, in fact, very little to do with me. I do the best I can. It’s enough. I know that. Even if I have to repeat it to myself rather often.

This is what I believe about surrendering, letting go: if we know that we are enough, just as we are, if we believe this in the core of our beings, then we can let go of many of the things in this life that cause us suffering. The need to always be right. The need for more money than we actually need (not that a little bit of a buffer is a bad thing). Worry about our physical attractiveness. Worry about our competence to have and raise children, hold down jobs, pay the mortgage. Worry about what the future holds. Worry that we didn’t do the best we could in the past. Worry about being loved. Or not. Both seem to cause suffering. I know: when I am loved I tend to spend a lot of time worrying about the situation changing, and when I am not, well, I worry that I am unlovable. Clearly I haven’t quite got a grip on this one yet, but I am trying!

For me, the essence of surrender is encapsulated in this sutra:

1.12 abhyasa vairagyabhyam tannirodhah

The mind can reach the state of Yoga through practice and detachment

(This is from TKV Desikachar’s translation of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali)

I love this sutra, and, like the Anthroyogini, I feel that perhaps if I get ‘vairagyam‘ tattooed on my person, it will serve as a reminder to Let. Go. I know that surrender can mean other things than letting go, but for me, surrender as a practice of power is a practice of releasing rather than subsuming or submitting. It is a practice of forgiving, because when we hold onto anger, it makes us sick. Sick in our emotions, certainly, and sick in our bodies, often.

This is how I choose to understand the above sutra: When we do the very best we can, judged by whether we are fully present in the moment, and then let go of the fruits of our efforts, the appropriate result is guaranteed.

I say ‘appropriate result’ because things don’t always go the way we think they should, but if we did the best we could, that’s enough, and we can surrender.

When I was 21, one of my closest friends killed himself. He left a note for me. It was more than a year old, left over from the first time he had tried. I was devastated. I had known he was depressed, and he was certainly behaving more strangely than usual, but then, we were young and strange. Both of us. I had a boyfriend who needed my time, I  had my final year of university to get through, and although I pressed my friend to talk, he didn’t want to. I backed down, thinking he would talk when he was ready. It took me a year to get over the guilt of not being able to see his suicide coming. When I finally realised that I had had no control over the choices of another adult, even one I loved, I was free of the guilt. It was when I surrendered my desire to have things be otherwise that I began to heal. I did do the best I could for my friend. I was fully present when I spoke to him. His death was not for me to control. So the appropriate result here was not that he lived, that was not his karma, but rather, that I remember him now with great love, and I remember the girl I was in that grief with great compassion.

That was my first lesson in letting go. There have been many since, just as I am sure there have been in your life!

If we can survive the really hard stuff: the grief, the bereavement, the pain of divorce, then maybe we can forgive those we love for the small things they do that irritate us, we can let go of the idea of conventional adulthood (married, mortgage, 2.5 kids) as the only valid way to be, we can surrender, even just a little bit, our holds on the steering wheel of life. Provided the situation is not violating us on some level, of course.

What do you think?

Squeeeeeeaaaky Beach!

• Happy Lists go Bliss! From now on, I will be doubly happy every week: another Happy List, well, actually, a BlissList, will be appearing over at FindBliss, in addition to this one. Look out for it!
• Making the sand on Squeaky Beach squeak. It really does, it’s awesome!
• The view from Mount Oberon. Breathtaking
• Seeing the new growth sprouting up all over the Prom, not even a year after it was decimated by the Black Saturday bushfires. Truly an inspiring view of new life coming forth from destruction
• The meal of the holiday: homemade tuna tataki. It was so delicious. But then, so was the french toast with maple syrup. Mmmmmm. Foooood
• The way my hair is getting super-long. I am pretty certain there is a cut-off point when you become Too Old For Long Hair. I am also pretty sure 34 isn’t it. So grow on, little follicles, grow on
• Having people admire said super-long hair. This happens quite rarely because it’s usually up in a bun for work. Most people probably think that is my only hairstyle, and they aren’t far wrong
• Music: the soundtrack to my life. I am SUCH a groupie. This holiday was all about Megson (again/still), The Audreys, Johhny Cash, like I mentioned before, Devon Sproule, and a bit of Norah Jones with Dolly Parton thrown into the mix. More than a bit Country, baby

• Speaking of work, this week was my first back teaching most of my classes. It was so nice to see everyone again, and to teach again. I needed and enjoyed my holiday, but I am pretty sure I have the Best Job in the World ™
• Laying exciting plans for my trip to South Africa in March/April. Look out for some workshop postings!
• Doing something very brave. I am not going to tell you what just yet, but I will soon…
• Having a teacher I respect call me for advice about sacro-iliac joint injuries.  She said I was the only person she knew who had been open about my journey with this issue. I am so honoured
• The email conversations with various people about the SIJ issue that I have been having, sporadically, for the last year. I suspect I will soon be writing more about what I’ve learnt from my own injury. It’s really quite common, especially amongst women, and it IS possible to prevent it, and also to rehabilitate most, if not all, of the damage

I also have something to be sad about this week: a childhood friend was killed by a shark. I feel so for his parents, because it is not the natural order of things to bury a child, and for all those who loved him. The shock waves have rippled across the world. RIP, Lloydy.  I will always remember you as a barefoot boy, and as a young man in Zim and SA. I will also always remember how you battled to stop calling my mom ‘Mrs Suttie’ because good manners were so deeply bred into you. May your soul know peace and may those left behind find their peace too.

I did this last year, instead of setting goals in the usual way, and found it to be an incredibly powerful practice. Boy, did I open and release last year. All the old, and I mean all of it, is gone, and now, as Fiona Apple sings,

I got my feet on the ground

And I don’t go to sleep to dream

I’m ready for an adventure of a year. I can see the shape of some things in the months ahead, but not others. That’s ok. If I have learnt anything in the last 12 months, it’s that change is omnipresent, and through it all, we sway and survive. And, (gasp) possibly even thrive.

To clear one more thing up, as refers to last year’s post: I am still not ‘doing’ any meditation. Instead, I follow Mark’s advice, and do my asana as my primary spiritual practice. Out of that seamless fusion of body breath and bandha arises stillness, as a gift. Call it meditation if you will.

Now, back to the scheduled programming: my words for 2010.

Here they are:

picture by treehugger*

I like Dictionary.com’s definition of hope as:

to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence.

to believe, desire or trust

Hope is, I think, and have probably said before, an essential ingredient for living. Nobody ever has a perfect life, but if you can master the subtle alchemy of being happy with the status quo, and at the same time holding hope that the future will be better, you are going to be, predictably enough, happy and hopeful. An optimist. A Pollyanna. I get accused of this quite a lot, because I always always choose to believe that people do the best they can. People (the vast majority) don’t go around intending to hurt each other. Some do, and they need to be dealt with, but the rest of us, we are just doing the best we can.

So I have that part of hope down, but the last year has somewhat dented the faith/trust aspect of hope in my psyche. A friend was teasing me the other day: she said I ought to re-incarnate as a hedgehog, so I would be cute, but able to curl into a small prickly ball at the first sign of threat. The threat in the this case was intimate relationship. To be honest, peeps, it scares the daylights out of me to contemplate getting into a relationship again. Even the word makes me break out in a cold sweat. This, of course, is why my experiment in dating land Did Not Go Well.

I choose to have hope again.

Which brings us to word number two:

picture by the bubblybeginner

In order to rebuild hope, I need to be brave enough to step into the air and believe that the ground will come up to meet me. Kind people tell me I’m courageous, but I know I could be much braver. There are so many things I should be doing that I’m not, because I am scared.

To quote myself:

Fear holds us back from the things we could be doing, feeling, experiencing. Feel the fear, and do it anyway

I just love the etymology of courage. It comes from the word corage, which means ‘of the heart’.

So, this year, I will open my heart to taking risks. I will do things even when they scare me, especially when they scare me. I will dream big, and act on those dreams. I will be courageous. Brave-hearted.

More song lyrics to illustrate my point, this time from Emiliana Torrini (I heart her):

Oh make some big jumps, big jumps

You’re afraid to break some bones

Come on make some big jumps, big jumps

Life is yours alone

You hold your head up, your head up high

Like you think I do

Will you join me? Let’s link hands, roar lion-hearted, and leap into the air. Who knows, we might keep soaring.

Pop over to FindBliss.com to see my article over there (originally posted on this blog, I confess!)

I join such illustrious company as the lovely Nona Jordan who wrote a great piece on developing a home practice.