Irresistible Remains

What remains is
Divine.

This a rambling blog on #irresistiblecircumstances, ones that I create in my life and all the roles: (earth)mother, wife, lover, mover, dancer, teacher, #yogawitch. I’ve been mostly writing poetry in between the lesson plans, the shuffling of one thing to serve another, and the naps. Poetry helps me strip down to language to essence and in doing so, beckons me to ask hard questions of myself and the answers

I digest
spit up
chew upon
swallow whole
What remains?

What remains of me today sounds like angst and feels like chaos and more uncertainty. I push down the urge to shush my intuition, and my confidence shakes: existential crisis arrives in every crisis of the day, hour, minute; I use this rollercoasterness, the power of the up and down, to hover a moment or two on a concept in class students are perplexed about (today, the word “troops” as in the French and Indian War). I wonder do they see great parallels in history and the now? Sweeping questions to yet be answered (or not) on some other day. Thus, stillness and clarity born in this #practice (and others) can be counted in great bursts of #gratitude for the opportunity to teach and share this unbelievable time with others. I want to say: I understand, but instead I ask: What can I do to help you?

The great and terrible thing about adrenal fatigue is that I can’t access the word I need to grapple and explain things, such as lessons, or solid learning and remembrances to aid our learning in the classroom–the labels and names for specific things and people (of which I used to be encyclopedic). Even as simple as why I am sailing forth in my own huge ocean of tears. Being silent and sliding down my face all on their own, I take pause. I slow down.

What remains can be anything; I use some #tags to help me sort through the biggies: #grief, #abundance, #pain. Gold star for #anger of which I have little. I have #enough for this Covid time, probably #enough for a lifetime (for which I say a secret prayer that I’m around to see it).

Today I felt #shame and #guilt for what remains and my confidence shakes again and again and again:

am i depressed
am i crazy
am i sick
am i wrong
am i fat
am i stupid
that i can't see
what remains?

should i be shamed
i work through #tags
i see the sun
i feel the winds
i know unrest and chaos
within and without
(at school in each greeting--
eyes shift, look down,
smiling nonetheless)
Today was hard.

Should I shame myself
i'm not alright today
but in this moment
I okay?
For that, #gratitude.

I can count on my experience, both inner and outer places, and the insurmountable gets done in its own time, in its own way, and greets the Universe’s cycles, not mine. My choice to seek #balance through a #handstand, a #song, or a moment of mindfulness or a laugh with the students. It helps. The birds sing, the sky opens up, and I catch the whispers and echoes, weave a spell or two in rhyme (or not). Like dance, it moves me.

I look to the left
I look to the right
But sometimes
the obvious
is clearly in sight.
Stay the course
Hug those dear
Keep your chin up
The Day is near.

Irresistible Ribat

Íss er árbörkrok unnar þak

ok feigra manna fár.

glacies jöfurr

Icelandic Rune poem
#flhikes #earthmagick #midwinter

Florida winters
the fortresses
for the weary world of
warriors;
the Earth in all Her charms
smiles upon the stillness
here and there
strangers pondering the Florida snow.
Elementals come to play:
the winter wind sweeps across Spanish moss
icicles
dangle, sway, and dance
in mysterious bliss
sama
Florida winters
the fortresses
for the weary world of
hidden pilgrims;
the Day in all Her charms
sings with the songbird; golden rays
here and there
breathing errantly #life into the Florida snow.
Elementals come to play:
the winter woods rise up rigidly into the sky,
bogs
be snow not, but still and patient, waiting
for simplicity of exchange
barahka
Florida winters
the fortresses 
for the weary world
of #abundance;
the Night in all His charms
nestles softly; illumination brings hope
here and there
sparks of inspiration put to good use.
Elementals come to play:
the full mid-winter Moon arrives just so, and
sky gods
intermingle with the usual banter
baraka







Irresistible Haunts

In the great stilling of the year,
we walk in woods,
marked with evidence
of winter who,
like a tourist,
visited and departed
in a great sky river
I witness above last night's fire
out
under the great Moon
and
Clouds unfolding stories:
the cow jumping over the moon
the speed of a cargo plane landing
the bite of a wolf
a lesson in what is
uncontrollable and perfect just so.
We move counter-clockwise
and step into tomorrow,
just a step between continents.
Between
action
and
inertia
the ice thaws
the sun cools
the shade lingers
delicately not necessarily
as from oak branches adorned in
great Spanish moss and fallen pine needles
nestled within a moment's warmest hug.
Though we wake,
sleeping still among the thorns of 2020,
the point is we wake
remembering
the moment
where spiders find such irresistible haunts
delightfully
full of prospect.

Today's Lesson was in how to link a live video from FB in EMYoga to my YouTube Channel and add captioning (access to all).  I have not perfected this task yet, but small steps...The first video in a series for January can be found below (another step in 2020 to rebuild professional competence).  

Irresistible Organization

ᛋ Sól er skýja skjöldr

ok skínandi röðull

ok Ă­sa aldrtregi.

rota siklingr.

Icelandic Rune Poem from reading sources about the house; digital text and translation here)

Most of my mornings for the past two days I spend figuring out technology to bring EMY and my brick-and-mortar-sorta classroom into 2021–things on my bucket list for 2020. That I even have a list is on my mind, so proud have I been to live what-I-called-intuitively for the past year. Like everyone else. I will take pride in my accomplishments, only to highlight how I am humbled by those who continue to persist in the bleakest of circumstances and inspired by human ingenuity and perseverance.

On the one hand, I, well-equipped and experienced in setting fitness, health, yoga, lifting, teaching, and organizational goals and squeezing them all into some kind of category, along with to-do lists and planners and file folders and stickers and pens, naturally and intuitively plan for the coming of 2021, supplied with what is [available] and occupies my time. I call it intentions and affirmations that WHAT I want to manifest or cultivate or bring into existence, and I can check off “done” on that ta-do list, which deteriorates into an annoying sense of great waste of the #abundance available on line, in Nature, at home, in my lover’s eyes. I recognize that I pretend to be organized and I’ve even stated that 2021 will be the year I become organized. What does that even mean?

On the other hand, I have been side-lined recently from walking, standing, moving, and getting things done, which has given me the gift of digital dreaming and word-play. This time of stillness in my physical body reminds me of the potentiality of Day which brings to light those aspects hidden to oneself. The point is–at least for me–is to step into the Day. Time to fix and connect the links in social media for Youtube and EMY and Instagram and plan for the 2021 second semester classroom (that’s organization improving). The adrenal fatigue fog is lifting and I have more mental #clarity; the newest flare-up is localized to the bottom of my foot, which gives me time aplenty to do the Erika mental gymnastics to hone my skills (or find them again–so lost I’ve been in 2020land).

Inspirations today include #practices of

-working with runes (foundational for any communicative endeavor)

planning

-writing about #tags or photos

exploring

-sharpening/honing teacher skills (did you know I’m a teacher?)

Irresistible Middle Ground

Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri,
nec gemino bellum Troianum orditur ab ovo;
semper ad eventum festinat et in medias res
non secus ac notas auditorem rapit, et quae
desperat tractata nitescere posse relinquit.

-Horace

December’s almost-predictable roller-coaster ride leads me to a beautiful #abundance of creative ideas and promised into 2021. The quarantining process brings with it a shift of #perspective with learning new tools, such as #mindfulness, through a turbulent 2020. At school, we literally had opportunities to re-invent the teaching wheel (and that’s as close to autonomy as you can get in any content). As with most of 2020, great scarcity and unknowing brought #irresistiblecircumstances to discover the important people in our lives and places of refuge, along with how to receive and return Love. Revisiting and tagging thought categories has been useful in seeing #whatis, essentially the #practice of yoga with all that is available, any time and in any place, with the difficulty and uncomfortableness of 2020 snuggled right up against #pain, #grief, and #catharsis; working through resistance requires hard work. Who is to say whether it is the work of 2020 that makes us weary or 2020, a tag itself in omnipresence.

Today, the proverbial 2020 train creaks and clacks slowly up to its pinnacle, and I sit here, stuck between past and future. Experience dictates caution (just like a teacher). Intuition advises my adrenals to scream and get off the ride, but healthy curiosity reconciles with the dose of knowing or, rather, acceptance. Daily walks in Florida’s #skog in the perfect Season among the miles of sandhills, prickles, and humorless humidity has uncovered Nature’s own inherent wild ride–a message to perhaps slow down the pace and look around in the #irresistiblecircumstances which one has created for oneself.

What is Walk

Whether through the miracle of birth

This body Earth

holds host to the catalog of dismissed #abundances:

the water oak, the cypress, the wild sages and cassia,

the thistles and duckweed, the blooming poison ivy,

the water lettuce, the tickweed and asters of the brush,

the sweetgum and inkberry, the ribwort plantain,

or through the death of 2020;

This body Earth

returns to inner fertility of a Florida mid-winter:

moss carpeting the realms below the roots

home of ant, snakes, spiders, and little birds

(a recurrent theme) while

Spanish moss dangles fat and lazily from canopy

and across the pale dead grass,

a pair of hawks glide to dinner

witnessed

along with vultures and their darker intents

(Not a look of someone doing someone else’s work)

A rotting log from a bird’s eye view.

Blistered feet will write the story of thorny 2020:

Whether it is the instrument

through which Gods play

or words playing Gods

Here I walk with what is

In media res

Irresistible Day

Dæg byþ drihtnes sond, deore mannum,

mære metodes leoht, myrgþ and tohiht

eadgum and earmum, eallum brice.

The Anglo-Saxon Rune poem

We are almost 16 weeks into this 2020 edition of a Covid school year; school is still more about adrenaline than passion. As drive myself through adrenal fatigue and increasing #pain cycles, there is still much comfort in seeing students participate in all the various forms. There is routine in examining the old texts, seeds of our Constitution, and discussing fresh perspectives of Enlightenment. Inequities present themselves, easily imagined as we live the reality of our ancestors. Rich and poor, the work of school is useful to all.

Self-management hangs heavily in a synchronous learning environment, from discussions of leaving something on the stove (when working from home) to managing the impossibilities of impromptu Internet glitches and patches while all at once some magic learning happens. In any case, there’s hardly a time to pause unless we make time for this release. And, just like physical pain, mental anguish and stress takes a toll. Were our forefathers (and foremothers) not the same in their dreams, fears, and internal dialogues? Did they take a moment to seize an opportunity for gratitude (the mindfulness strategy today)? Did they trace the Night’s path across their backyard sky, or take a nap in the emerging sunlight on a cool day, or savor a hot cup of tea in quiet contemplation, and find hope there?

Of late, without much ease in movement, I find myself processing the words, words, words, in a such way I never anticipated in my half-century. Could the younger me have envisioned a day I wouldn’t remember vocabulary or concepts or need the constant reminder of my stumbling and bumbling access to the more common areas of my brain? Likewise, did I intellectualize the day I couldn’t lift the weight of the world and a barbell locked and loaded to squat beneath or push overhead?

School becomes a challenge, tripping over the next item to do, procrastinating the great and honorable task of grading (and grade-entering to create irresistible mixed-media digital content); however much I love to craft a lesson, the sheer amount of energy to make any decision has taken flight to darker realms, suspended.

Survival depends on Day and Night, a marriage of predictable opposition. I am held by spaces between polarities, and Day’s quiet appearance transforms Night’s #abundance into actionable steps toward the future. And while little of life outside of school setting presents itself in the traditional way, each Day has offered fresh #perspectives. Brought into a classroom, our community is light of hope itself–we will survive. Rich and poor, the perspective of familiar cycles is Hope.

Irresistible Sunrise

I hear your song, Sisters
the gather and order of energy
rumbles from the Earth into my feet
and ripples through my body
long ago and into the future
no longer latent
ready to be used

I hear your song, Sisters
the release and adieu of labels
the loss unnoticed by the immense sky
and waves of wonder in thought
memories and knowing
no longer latent
ready to be needed

I hear your song, Sisters
the hunting and gathering of resources
flights of instinct and inheritance
and cycles of survival
darkly held in the sunrise
no longer asleep
ready to be heard

Irresistible Pranayama

A moment crystallized

exploding into the Self–

Where worry and fears unmasked

can be followed or acknowledged.

A short practice,

collecting negative thoughts

into a bowl of my making,

consists of simple stillness

and just the breath;

the structure of my body

struggling to be present

aware and nonjudgmental–

lessons that

Simple isn’t easy:

my eyes looking down

fixed and inward;

Thoughts form

in the space between

where the elements emerge

escaping my limitations, only to

cascade down dark rough landscapes

and rock walls of some expanse,

(now distinctive and recognizable),

Until I let them go with purpose

through the o-shaped mouth.

Stillness returns once

just like the Day, and other

#irristiblecircumstances.

Irresistible Darkness

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”

-Mary Oliver
#abundance

I’ve been playing around with meditation and movement to stretch into those insatiable moments of perfect clarity within today’s darknesses. Most naturally and efficiently, I delve into this in the early mornings, but 2020…

Current schooling is a quagmire of polarities, shifting norms, and constant regrouping–in short, facing personal fears while holding space for others to do the same (as well as myself). The essence of each moment rests on the ability to balance, and then act–not react–with wisdom and good work. I look for ways to infuse #gratitude into the impossibilities of the classroom, affected by our transition in and out of quarantine (for some) and digital learning for a short time (for more) and back to the brick-and-mortar classroom. We take a moment to share and we all feel better.

The nuggets from daily #practice erupt from micromovements (with)in and out of familiar postures and sequences of intuitive knowing of my own boundaries and landscape; I intentionally process through also familiar emotional thoughts, the accumulation of judgment of having fallen short, losing patience, despairing, complaining, waffling in confusion and indecision, or frustration, and this week, a lot of anger.

The only way to let go is to let in. Gratitude for the gifts of darkness.

A Can of Worms and Other Rituals

It’s been tough going back to school. Dealing with my own fractured energy is hard enough, but suddenly I’ve been thrust into everything else, a day-to-day chaos which teachers must shape into learning in a not so brave new world. And it requires hours of reading and conceptualizing and creating and time! And the consequences and fruits already are apparent in my body as I slip back toward adrenal fatigue.

Enter self-care. The new “best practice” which supports “teacher autonomy” and learning. Not lip-service. Rather, it is intertwined with other tools of the trade and the broad categories of this can of worms: Mindfulness, Social-emotional learning, Restorative practices, Total communication practices, Brain exercises, Comprehensible input, Coding, Self-talk. Meta-cognition.

Each day, I patiently thread this self-care in to each period online, in face, and in spirit to my ever changing school setting. I have a cozy little room and a refreshing new minimalist view on material goods. I feel safe most of the time, and I have clear boundaries. We all wear masks. We have temperature checks. Many of us try to NOT be socially isolated, but the days are long and we mostly look tired and defeated leaving. It’s hard to share a laugh when there’s no time to share a cry and hugs and hold each other in the massive emptiness of the unknown.

I have a massive respect for parents this year. I’m grateful that my kids are graduated and out of our schools. I can clearly understand the nightly meltdowns and harried demanding emails to teachers about how stupid an assignment is. I feel the same. I know I have students who can’t manipulate Google documents and make their text boxes bigger. I know because I’m one of those students.

I struggle. My practiced, refined, and automatic thinking processes crumble and cower with the 7 hour routine of being online everyday and trying to reach all my students and everyone should be able to see, hear (or have interpreted) and share, triaging 100+. remembering meetings in new departments, and doing a hundred other administrative things that only matter at school. So, I model. Here’s my cell phone. Yes, it’s on my desk, but I’m not going to look at it until lunch. Its here for emergencies. By the way, there’s a fire drill today. If you are at home, what should you do?

And what do we do or where do we find out what to do for a/n fire drill, active assailant drill, inclement weather drill, late dismissal, a kid that shows symptoms, a quarantine letter, a free testing site which has enough tests? There are memorandums which we get after we learn what we actually have to do, and do it well. We keep our F2F students safe, and let go of learning content for that period until this becomes unacceptable and incongruous with mandated testing looming (thanks to our governor and Dept. of Ed). And I’ve missed meetings because of the 3 surgeries my husband has had and I can’t watch the 2 hour recording…not that anyone says anything because everyone is dealing with the same things, which means the students are, too.

Just as practices of physical safety are part of physical and formal school, mindfulness can be, too. Revisiting and reaquainting myself each morning in my own practice beneath the sky helps me build the strength and stamina to begin anew each day until we all feel safe to do good work.

The question really becomes what is good work? What does the student think good work is? The parent? The district? The State? Is it test scores? Is it all these things and more? For me, it seems pretty clear. Learning requires a new and readily practiced set of skills for coping, growing, and succeeding.