Reverb10. December 18.

Try. What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn’t go for it? (from Kaileen Elise)

This post begins with an explosion of bittersweet laughter.

In 2010 I tried to take a dance class. I broke my leg.

In 2010 I tried to have a baby. He died.

In 2010 I loved, grieved, forgave, received my Reiki I attunement, worked with amazing coaches, made friends, lost friends, moved homes, shed objects and pounds (more to go), began a 1000 day meditation practice, began writing daily, started hooping, went back to yoga, said yes, said no, listened to my heart, listened to others, pushed myself too hard, stepped back, fought and welcomed change.

I’m working to eliminate try from my vocabulary. When I use it, I’ve already got one foot out the door. It’s a way to avoid making a decision. I’ll try but…I’m not committing, anything could happen.

So what do I want to try in 2011? Picking up my guitar and learning to play. Practicing with my hoop so I look semi-competent. Putting photos in albums or making digital books. Getting reacquainted with my sewing machine. Maybe I’ll even get out on a boogie board one of these days.

What will I do in 2011? Write. Meditate. Love. Dance. Cry. Grow. Heal. Make a home. Be mama to my daughter. Strengthen my marriage. Deepen my spiritual practice. Sing. Breathe deeply. Watch the sun set over the ocean as many times as I can. Make delicious food. Move my body back to health. Read brilliant books. Forge ever deeper connections. These things I commit to. There is no try when every fiber of my being vibrates to yes.

Reverb10. December 17.

Lesson learned. What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward? (from Tara Weaver, author of The Butcher and the Vegetarian)

2010 was a year of hard lessons for me. Big lessons. Life altering. I have a feeling when I look back in five or ten years time, 2010 will be the year that forever shifted the set of my sails. As painful as the past eleven and a half months have been, they’ve been accompanied by a flicker of excitement, like a tender candle flame that tickles my insides and lights me up. It’s a small, private excitement. One that needs to be nursed into the roaring fire I can feel coming in the marrow of my bones.

Strength.

I learned how incredibly strong I am. I learned how much I can live through and come out the other side, picking up pieces of myself and hot gluing them back together with honesty,  compassion and helping hands.

Interdependence.

I learned to ask for help this year. Our culture forces us into independence early. We are shamed when we can’t do things ourselves. We lose sight of the beauty of asking for help. It’s a gift we give those who love us. I needed help. Lots of it. What a relief it was to realize I don’t have to do it all.

Spirit.

I learned that I am connected to Spirit in a way that I have wished to experience as long as I can remember. I learned that if I open my heart and mind, if I allow myself to trust, there is a safety net. I have angels. I can hear the voice of my higher self more clearly than ever before.

Love.

I learned that I am worth loving. This knowledge makes me cry. One day I will accept this easily, perhaps. For now it brings me to my knees.

Reverb10. December 15.

5 minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010. (from Patti Digh, author of Creative is a Verb)

I want to remember…

Love. love love love love love.

Flowering of spirit. Laughter til it hurt.

Asking for and receiving help. Sometimes from the most surprising people.

The fear. I want to remember the lessons fear taught so I don’t have to live them again.

Spirit. How the Divine showed up. The peace I felt the night Ben died. The invisible hand on my shoulder letting me know I was not alone.

The gifts I was given. Gifts of time, of strength, of weakness. Gifts of service from others. The gift of space to lay my head. Gifts of support on the darkest days.

I want to remember dolphins and sunshine on waves and sunsets on the beach. I want to remember the way my husband looked when he looked at me with smiling eyes. I want to remember the crinkle of my daughter’s nose. The way she called her new Minnie Mouse purse picture perfect and announced that her dad was giving us the business. The way those moments made us laugh with our hearts open and our heads thrown back.

I want to remember the weight of my tiny son on my chest. His perfect body. Born too soon and without breath.

And I want to remember the moment this afternoon when I opened the box containing an ornament with his name on it, lovingly made and sent by another baby lost mama halfway across the world. I want to remember the curves of his name, the tears in my eyes and the voices of my husband and daughter from another room, suddenly singing along to Louis Armstrong.

Oh, what a wonderful world.

Reverb10. December 14.

Appreciate. What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it? (from Victoria Klein, author of 27 Things to Know About Yoga)

This one’s easy.

Life.

I have a new appreciation for life. The miracle of making it from a chance meeting of sperm and egg through 40 weeks of growing brain, heart, lungs and limbs, to where I am now and where I will be at my last breath.

We are miracles. Each of us.

I am grateful for this life, with every fiber of my being, all the time. I couldn’t walk for much of this year, couldn’t stand, couldn’t pick up my child. There were days it hurt to move, to laugh, to sob. There were moments when I wasn’t sure I would live to see the sun rise again. I am grateful. I take none of it for granted. My heart beats gratitude.