Is it just me, or does it smell like eucalyptus?

All good choices

Our first steps on Kiwi soil were the morning of Monday August 25th after a 12 hour plane ride from Los Angeles. By a neat trick of the international dateline, it was still Sunday afternoon in Portland. Needless to say, it took a few days to get our sleeping and eating figured out. By another neat trick, it is late winter verging on a beautiful spring here, chilly mornings and early nights, and gloriously sunny days. So whilst we were finding our veggies and oatmeal and blinking sleepily by 5pm, we were hankering for some exploring.

Andy, God bless him, intrepidly planned our first major foray on the Metro, the public bus system here, which turns out to be fantastic. He plotted our route into the Port Hills south of town. I'm still learning about the geology here, but I'd just like to say that on our little hop from Auckland (on the North Island) to Christchurch (about midway down on the east side of the South Island), I saw more mountains than I've ever seen at one time, stretching west into the horizon and north and south as far as I could see. So the terrain here is pretty magnificent, with the "Southern Alps" in the interior of the island, stretching down into hills and valleys and fjords and sweeping bays of all kinds as go you toward the coast.

Lyttleton Harbour within the ancient volcanic rim.
Christchurch is just to the North.
(For a larger view, you can click on any photo)

The Port Hills are part of an ancient volcanic crater rim just to the south of Christchurch, enclosing Lyttleton Harbour. Andy planned a route for us between two rest houses called the Sign of the Takahe, and the Sign of the Kiwi. Both these are part of a Summit Road conservation project lovingly championed by a New Zealander named Harry Ell, born in the latter half of the 19th century. Thanks to his vision, these breathtaking Port Hills and their vistas are protected green spaces, with miles upon miles of "walking tracks" (or hiking trails as we would call them), and these old stone rest houses, still closed from the earthquakes in 2010 and 2011 (more on these in a later entry).

View from the Takahe:
The Canterbury plains with the Southern Alps in the distance

Having spent all week in very urban parts of the city, it was quite literally a breath of fresh air to be hiking up those hills. There is a viewing point at the Sign of the Takahe where you can see all of Christchurch laid out in the Canterbury plains, out to Pegasus Bay and the Pacific Ocean, and into the moutainous interior. It was so stunning - with so many shades of green, and the clouds casting here and there shadows across the sweeping landscape - even the kids were awed.

Another view from the Takahe:
These green hillsides were so inviting, Josie wondered
if we could find them and walk on them.

Then after some help from a local cabbie, we found our way to the path leading up to the Sign of the Kiwi, through forest in parts, sometimes with more of that magnificent view as our walking companion. This walk was a delight in so many ways, but two vividly stand out to me even now.

One, the sounds! An astounding number of the birds here are unique to New Zealand, so everywhere I hear them, I am enchanted. Listening to them as I'm waking up, or as I'm walking about town, I instantly feel transported to a tropical island somewhere (not so far from the truth, after all). Andy said it's like being in the bird room at the zoo. Very much so... I hope to soon find a way to record some of the birdsong and share it here.

A New Zealand fantail
(with thanks to Wikipedia)

And even though his call isn't particularly remarkable, one of these little fellows came and danced with his tailed all fanned out in the bushes right next to the trail as we walked past. (Here's a link to a page with a little video of them.) It was so eye-catching and at the same time intimate, I felt like I had just stepped into a frame from one of those nature shows, really a magical sense of having dropped right into the "Life of Birds" for example, live. I guess it was one of those moments when I realize that all those extraordinary things I've heard about or seen on TV are really happening somewhere on this amazing planet.

Okay, so I mentioned two stand-out things from the walk. The second was more subtle at first. As we got a little higher into the hills, a couple neurons fired in my brain and I asked out loud, "Is it just me, or does it smell like eucalyptus?" And then I looked up, and sure enough, there was a stand of eucalyptus trees reaching up to the sky with their lanky and fragrant bodies. From that point I noticed more and more of them, and between that gentle waft of eucalyptus, and the scent of the fresh bushy pines, and the mountain breeze, I honestly think I was breathing in the sweetest smelling air I have ever had the pleasure to partake of.

Lyttleton Harbour as seen from the Sign of the Kiwi:
There is something about the shape and color and feel
of this landscape that makes my heart sing!

By the time we reached the Sign of the Kiwi at the crest of the hill, where you can walk 30 paces from the view on one side and those sweeping Canterbury plains, to the view down into the Polynesian-feeling waters of Lyttleton Harbour, I was in love with this place, thanking God and the Earth for this gift, and Andy for the momentum to get us here!

Until next time, warm wishes for your own adventures! (Or as they say here, cheers!)

Hello New Zealand!

The kids and I in the Port Hills south of Christchurch

Want to hear something curious? It's something I realized this summer, as we were preparing for this trip to New Zealand. I was reflecting on how whenever I've heard the name "New Zealand" in my life, it's had an extra sparkle of sorts, a shimmer of some kind of kismet or connection I couldn't even quite put into words.  It made me wonder, what other places have lit up for me like that from the moment I learned about them? My list included Ann Arbor, France, Oregon, Tahiti, New Zealand...  What I was surprised to realize was how I have had the pleasure of visiting or living in all of these places over my lifetime, not always even of my own doing. Sure, we decided together on our Tahiti honeymoon, but Andy was only accepted to grad school in Ann Arbor, and there were only two schools in the country he had job offers for when we moved to Portland. 

It makes me feel like Time isn't the one-way street I assume it to be from day to day. It feels almost like this shimmery quality to these place names was a sort of touch on the shoulder from the Future, existing somehow simultaneously with the Now. A tip of the hat from the Future Me, a little gift of excitement and love for my life here. 

And that is truly what I wish and pray for this time in New Zealand to be -- a time for us as a family to celebrate life, its beauties and quirks and people and connections. To let all the change and newness shake up our routines enough to really look around, and be here, consciously, with deep gratitude for the wonders of this Earth and all the other people and life forms sharing this planet with us.

We're living in Christchurch, on the east coast of the South Island

Here's something else that surprised me. Before we arrived, when I looked at a map of the world and saw how far south New Zealand is -- even further south than Australia and seeming precariously close to Antarctica -- I honestly felt a pang of fear imagining ourselves here, like we would fall off the bottom of the planet or something. Like it really would somehow feel upside down, almost alien. I didn't realize I was carrying this fear around with me, until we got off the plane in Christchurch, and I was struck instead by how oddly familiar it felt. It was as if, looking around at the sky and the trees, the right side-up buildings and feeling gravity holding me firmly on the ground, that I had a sense of "small world," realizing it is truly the Earth that is my home, that welcomes me wherever I may be. And now that I think about it, it felt this way in Europe, and Tahiti, and all the places I've been. That also feels like magic to me.

And so, from my home away from home on this stunningly beautiful island that is called New Zealand -- or Aotearoa, its Maori name, which also has a bit of that shimmer for me -- I am excited to begin sharing about our adventures and discoveries, big and small. 

Wherever on Earth you may be reading this, may it light up in some special way for you too : )

love,

Sarah

Might as well face it, I'm addicted to stress...

I'd like to share about a funny pattern I'm studying this week in my life.  It connects back to something my meditation teacher Brenda Morgan said at the retreat I went to in August, that humans have an "addiction" to stress and tension. As crazy as it sounds, that really resonated with me. I've been trying to study this in my life, and I'm noticing how my tendency is to actually make a stressful choice rather than an enjoyable one. Weird, huh?

Here's an example.  This past week I needed to deal with a car issue. On Monday of this past week, I needed to use about 1/3 tank of gas in my car so we could try one way of correcting the problem, in hopes of passing DEQ before my registration expired on Friday. My first reaction was to worry and obsess over the most efficient way to accomplish this... I considered just leaving it running in my driveway all day while I checked off chores on my to-do list at home, driving a few hours straight out and back on the highway, even trying to find a neighbor who might know how to siphon it out, and so on, until it occurred to me -- hey, I could do something fun, a little outing! The weird part was how much resistance I felt to doing this. The worry part of me wasn't very interested in having fun. Somehow having fun didn't seem right when I had this stressful problem to fix.

But the weather was beautiful, and I had made a commitment to working with this pattern, so my dog and I jumped in the car and drove out into the Columbia River Gorge, through gorgeous thick evergreen forest, to a beautiful viewpoint I'd never been to before at the top of Larch Mountain. It was wonderful!

By the time I got back and picked up my kids from school, I was pretty worn out, though. I was hoping to get to the mechanic and put in the fuel additive yet that afternoon, as I was concerned about passing my car inspection in time. And I wasn't even sure this was going to work yet! My "hurry get-it-done!" side was all about heading out right then before the mechanic closed up for the night. But I sat down in a chair, put my feet up for 10 minutes, and let myself relax before I made the choice. I could feel it wasn't right to push myself. I decided to wait until the next day.

And you know what? It all worked out perfectly. AND I was able to relax, take care of myself and have fun in the process.

So why did I fight this? My brain just wanted to obsess and worry about it, quick try this, try that, what if, what if, push push push. It wanted to do that way more than it seemed to want to take a beautiful drive in the mountains, or put my feet up for 10 minutes and relax even though the problem wasn't fixed yet. But boy did I feel so much better making the choice to enjoy myself, take care of myself... What a crazy addiction!

I am beginning to see how I constantly have a choice of how to relate to my daily issues -- and even just the flow of my day -- that is either stressful, or is a conscious choice to create or participate in something that helps me enjoy my life. And to trust that, no matter how much I feel that drive to keep pushing and solve it, fix it, get it done, that the real solution actually lies in opting out of that program, and choosing to love myself and my life instead.

I'd love to hear if anyone else has noticed this strange stress addiction in their own lives, and any ways you've found that help you make a happier choice instead!

A new way of feeling "sustainable living"

Today is the last day of school for my kids, and the past few weeks have been extra full with picnics, plays, and other special end-of-year commitments. I've been noticing my calendar get fuller and fuller, and at the same time, noticing my mood get worse and worse!

A couple days ago I was feeling the phrase "sustainable living" in a different sense than the environmental one...  I was feeling it in relationship to how I am living my life, from day to day. Because this too-busyness, and this grumpiness, don't feel like sustainable living! Not only do I feel I tired and burnt out, but then I start to lose my enjoyment of my life, and anxiety and depression start to creep in at the edges. Resentment toots its horn, and I realize my attitude through my days has shifted to something like, "I don't want to be here!"

Whoa, Nelly! That's not how I want to want to spend my days!

It isn't easy to break out of this go-go-go till I drop routine, but I want something more for my life than just getting things done. I want to try something new,  a renewed commitment to taking care of myself, to feeling my days through the lens of "sustainable living."

I want to try asking myself:
Is this sustainable for my physical health? Or am I wearing myself down?
Is this sustainable for my heart, my spirit? Am I waking up dreading my day, or feeling a love and tenderness for who I am, and for what my life really means to me?

And you know what seems to be the biggest key to making my days "sustainable" over the long term? Unscheduled time in my day. This has surprised me, the simplicity of this, just simply giving myself permission to feel, in the moment, what my heart longs for, and giving myself that gift, whether it's a walk outside, or an outing to a fabric store, or putting my feet up with a good book, or just relaxing in the sun and quietly breathing and listening.... There's something in this spaciousness that loosens my whole tight, stressful attitude, and helps me feel the bigger picture of my life again. How precious it is. How precious this time with my children is. How precious this body is that carries me around every day.

May I give myself this gift of spaciousness every single day, so that my life becomes even more than "sustainable;" may I truly remember my love for my life.

Happiest When I'm Sick?! Lessons from a Sickbed on Actually Enjoying My Life

I am almost 40 years old, and I have cystic fibrosis. The fact that I am alive to say that is a testament to the good health I have enjoyed for most of my life. In the past few years, though, my health has taken some unexpected twists and turns. My body’s needs have become more and more insistent, moving in and declaring, “My turn!” at random moments, sometimes hunkering down for months.

During these times I have needed to drop almost everything and focus nearly 100% of my attention and energy on getting better. Now, as a mom of two with a self-diagnosed “can’t sit down syndrome,” this hasn’t been easy! It’s been a knock-down, drag-out fight, learning to let go and give myself what I truly needed to heal.

But something really surprised me about those times. When I did let go, and just truly focus on what was needed to take care of myself, I felt happier about my life, more excited about it, more creative, more relaxed, more at peace with whatever was in front of me …. In short, I was enjoying my life more!

Then, when my lung numbers began to rebound and my energy started to come back, I would dive back into my to-do list, my day-to-day itinerary of the too-busy mom. And guess what?  I felt stressed, grumpy, harried. One day I woke up and realized I was living my life – healthy body and all – with the general attitude of, “I don’t want to be doing this.”

Wow! Talk about a wake-up call – I’m happier when I’m sick? I mean, I have a great team of medical helpers and my family and friends have been amazing supporters and all, but I’d really like happy and healthy to go together in my life!

Tired of resentment, I was feeling some real fire under me to bring this same love for my life into my “well” times. I began to really study what was different about how I approached my life when I was sick. Here is what I discovered:

1.   I KNOW I need to rest and actively take care of myself, so I give myself this gift.

When I’m healthy, the supermom drive kicks in. Even when I notice I’m getting worn out, I push through it, driven by some intense need to “get things done.” As I get more exhausted and frustrated by this elusive goal, my stress level rises. I lose my patience. I yell at my kids and am grouchy with my husband. I wake up at night, from stressful dreams, clenching my jaw. And whatever happened to that nice walk I wanted to take while the sun was out? That podcast I wanted to record? Oops – got away from me, too busy. I sometimes feel anxious or depressed because it feels like I have no identity other than as the “get-it-done robot.” Ring any bells?

When I’m sick, if I want any hope of avoiding going to the hospital – and believe me, that’s pretty far down on my list of fun get-aways – I HAVE to rest. I HAVE to take time to do my extra breathing treatments and clear my lungs. Not to mention, I have to go to doctor’s appointments and get lab tests done.  And then frankly, I’m tired. So I start at the beginning again, with more rest, and maybe a nice movie to watch. Maybe a short, gentle walk just to remember what the sun and wind feel like on my face. It’s like giving myself a gift: “Here you go, self, I can feel this is what you need right now. Enjoy.”  All that stuff on my to-do list that I was positive had to get done or the world would end? Read on!

2.   My relationship to my to-do list shifts so it is more realistic and in tune with my needs.  

You know what my first reaction is to being sick again? Well, my first reaction is, “Oh no, not again!” But very close on its heels is, “Whew! I get to take a break from my to-do list!” Seriously.  I sometimes wonder if I’m subconsciously setting myself up to be sick more often.

So what does happen with all those all-important tasks? Eh. Life goes on. Really. This surprised me at first – how could I have had 25 absolutely-have-to-get-done tasks last week, and this week, clear my schedule with one fell swoop? Some things just go on hold. Re-organizing my desk can wait, I realize. Even the dishes. We have resorted to paper plates on at least one occasion, and I felt inordinate glee when it occurred to me. I let some things go altogether – volunteering at school, for example. I have to come to terms with the fact that with this body, I may never again chaperone another event involving 20+ children (and I fought giving this up?). And third, and most importantly, I ask for help. More on this next.

3.  I ask for and let myself receive help.

Does anybody else have the “it’s gotta be even” thing? If I ask for help, I can’t ask for help again until I’ve repaid it equally? Where does that come from, anyway? Why is it so hard to ask for help? It feels connected to that supermom idea... Doesn’t matter if I have no family nearby, have two children, a dog and two cats to take care of, and have a chronic illness, I will do it all! By myself! Then I’ll really be somebody!

Really? Is that all it comes down to in the end? Because I’m here to attest, that as hard as I fight receiving help, it’s absolutely golden when it comes. On one occasion, my husband (unbeknownst to me) called his dad and asked him to drive 7+ hours to help us for a few days. I flipped out and immediately called dad-in-law back, “No thanks, maybe another time!” Then, when my health continued to worsen, had to call him back again that same evening – not kidding, just a few hours later – “Well, could you after all, if it’s not too much to ask...” There was some humble pie with the husband on that one. Especially since I proceeded to have the best week I’d had in weeks. Dishes? Done. Kids fed, to and from school? Done. That light fixture that needed replacing? Done. Me? Well, I was taking as long as I wanted to get up in the morning, enjoying a book, napping, sketching, feeling ideas for a new talk I wanted to give. At one point, I was so overcome with the joy of an open schedule, I was listening to the radio and spontaneously invited my husband to dance with me in the living room. And I had to ask myself, when’s the last time something like that has happened for me? Feeling so relaxed that I burst into joyous celebration of life?  And why would I fight this, just to prove I’m supermom after all? (I refer you to Item #1 above if you’d like to refresh your memory on how much fun that was for me.)  And the way I felt in those moments, leads me to my last revelation.

4.   I focus in on what matters most to me – celebrating my life, and expressing who I am.

So that’s the magical part of all this: when I take time to rest, and relax about my to-do list, and ask for help, it’s as if all these layers start coming off, one by one – expectations, self-imposed deadlines, accumulated identities, frustration and resentment, even that seeming constant companion, stress, pipes down for a while – and I can feel me again. And guess what? I like her. Me, not just mom or cook or scheduler or mediator, but who I actually am... spontaneous, playful, funny, creative, enthusiastic. It’s like taking a full breath and realizing I haven’t for weeks, quite possibly years. Rather than endless checkmarks, my life feels open-ended, like a choose-your-own-happy-adventure book, one where I want to explore all the possibilities. How about that watercolor class I was dreaming of? Taking my shoes off and loving the grass soft and warm under my feet? Lounging on the couch – without any laundry to fold – and just being present with my kids as they explore yet another fantastically messy (and wonderful) project?  Just be with them, let myself enjoy being a parent for a bit. It’s in those moments, that I realize what my life truly means to me, how much I want to participate in it, not just get through it.

I know it’s not realistic to think I can put all my obligations on hold indefinitely. And it can still feel surprisingly difficult to let go of that drive that says, “I can be it all! Do it all! By myself, by golly!” But recalling the happiness I feel when I do let go compels me to keep experimenting with it, taking a deep breath in that moment of resentment and saying to myself, “I am still here, under all these layers. I want to remember who that is. I want to spend some time with her, get to know her again. I want to remember how much I love my life.” And then taking even just 10 minutes to pause everything, put my feet up and do something I love, maybe some playful activity from childhood –sketching fancy dresses, or playing with silly putty. Maybe going so far as to write “FUN DAY” across a whole day on my calendar, or a few days, even. Why not? What is there to lose, really? And who knows what magic will unfold?

Saying Yes to My Life, Even When It Ain’t Easy

I was driving in the car yesterday, listening to the ringing in my left ear.  And I was feeling frustrated. So frustrated I wanted to scream.

For the past two months I’ve been working through really intense asthma and shut down in my lungs, but based on what I learned during a previous year of constant ups and downs, when I finally found a medicine that truly helped, I have been feeling pretty confident this round could be resolved the same way. My doctors, though, felt strongly about trying a powerful antibiotic first, and sadly, hearing damage is one of the potential side effects.

In the car, I wanted to shout, “It’s not fair! I’m just trying get the help I need, and now I may have permanent hearing damage and ringing in my ear?”  And I could feel my familiar life-negative attitude seeing an opening and jumping right on that train: “Yeah! Life sucks! Bad stuff happens all the time! Whoever signed up for this? I’m so done with this!” And I could feel the pull to ride that Grump Train right on outta here!

Then Grace stepped in, thankfully, and gently asked, “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life on the Grump Train?”

Ah. Good question.

And I could feel, as painful and frustrating as it can be here, that really is the question: Do I want to say yes to my life, accepting all of it, good, bad, and in between; or am I going to choose to write it off, and spend the rest of my life stuck feeling angry, or like a victim, basically immobilized by my life negativity?

Well, having already spent close to 40 years practicing a half-empty outlook on life, I have recently decided I’m ready for a change. Because here’s the deal, as I see it. If I give up on life, and that’s essentially what I’m doing when I let my life negativity take over, then I’m also saying no to all the beautiful parts of life – to bare feet on sun-warmed grass, to music that makes my body rejoice in being able to move, to sharing my creativity and compassion and uniqueness in a way that truly does help here.

And that’s what I want, in my heart of hearts, to help here. To help us love ourselves, warts and all, to help us let go of the endless games we play in trying to somehow prove we’re okay (or that we’re not okay, and justified in giving up on our lives), and instead to let our hearts shine forth their unique creativity in countless, profound ways.

Yes, crap happens. It’s not always easy. Sometimes I have to take a few minutes and give myself permission to shout out my frustrations. But it just seems to be part of the package here. It’s not a perfect realm, this gorgeous, alive, bursting-at-the-seams-with-creative-potential planet full of people. I think that’s the point, in some ways. If it was perfect, what would we do then? Somehow, I believe it’s meant to be messy – a happy mess that comes part and parcel with the fullest array of options for expressing ourselves.

So I say, yes to my life! To all the parts and pieces! Yes, I am willing to put up with the frustrations and pain in order to be able to fully participate, and do whatever I can, however I can, to help love and happiness flood in here, and open our hearts to our true purpose and potential as human beings.

I don't need no excuses!!

Recently I have been working with some health challenges -- intense lung stuff. I'm getting lots of good help, and I trust it will pass, but it is sharing some much-needed reminders with me. Here's my favorite one:

"I don't need any excuses to take care of myself!"

It's almost funny when I stop to look at it. This fall has been incredibly hectic and overscheduled, with each week bursting at the seams with commitments and tasks I feel "have" to get done. Then, this health issue started to surface, and suddenly I was literally forced to clear my calendar and just focus on taking care of me.

Wow -- all the sudden I was able to let go of commitments, ask for help with tasks, and put a high priority on restful activities like reading a good book, watching fun you-tube videos, and little sewing projects. And it occurred to me, why don't I do this more often? Why do I have to get sick before I am willing to clear my calendar and put my feet up for a while? Or just play with fabric for an afternoon?

Something I have just started to experiment with is to mark down one day a week on my planner with the words "FUN DAY."  On that day, while my kids are school, my intention is not to do anything just because I feel I should or have to, only things I want to do, like take a field trip to a ribbon store, or take a walk in a park I've never been to. It feels so important for me to practice this!

How about you? I'd enjoy hearing ways you are finding to take time for yourself, without needing any excuses!