By the time the 2nd door shut the scent is long gone, as is the beautiful feelings one associates with the scent. Work has been a stressful and depressing atmosphere. We do our best to stay motivated and hope that our hard work will eventually result in good.

We sure could use a little good around these parts. Even when we stop to smell, the rose-scented foyer is not quite enough to fool us into thinking that everything is coming up roses.

Beyond the foyer, many wipe back tears shed after finding out that another crop of our hardworking colleagues are being let go. As our dear friends pack up their things and say goodbye to as many as time would allow, the rest of us walk on eggshells fearing that we’ll be next.

Rumor has it, it’s a cruel world out there — without even the slightest hint of roses.

Sometimes a little change in perspective helps to form a fresh look at things. When you can’t seems to find yourself a different vantage point, you’ve got to get creative.

Today, I found there was no better way to change things up than to turn my world upside down?  From here I can clearly see that the sky is beautiful and blue.  

If I just relax and let myself simply be in the moment, I might enjoy a few seconds of bliss before falling over into a back bend.

And honestly, that’s pretty cool too.

What a night, no what a week it has been. So much pain and worry has filled my days and nights. Sometimes it feels like it is coming at me from all directions. It finally took it’s toll and left me weeping miserably with a migraine that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. By morning the migraine was gone, but I was too spent to rush off to join my friends and the local triathlon club for a bike ride. Yet, my need for some sort of outlet drew me to yoga.

Throughout this morning’s class our yoga instructor had us working with breath. Incorporating the breath work into our flow-based movement from pose to pose, we breathed in good while releasing bad. It was just right for where I was at. Breath in self-love and forgiveness. Breath out criticism and blame. I worked the flow and breath and reflected on how hard it is to forgive yourself for your own mistakes or wrongdoings. Tears mixed in with my sweat and splattered on my mat. The class was packed, as it has since New Years, but no one seemed to notice. Nor did I care.

But class was just getting going….

We moved into Warrior II and breathed in stability and strength. My pose took on a fierceness. Then I exhaled, my body softened as I released boundaries and excess responsibility.

As class went on, the instructor spoke of love as it relates to the coming Valentine’s Day. It is the season of media-defined expression of love. Acknowledging the energy, I released my resistance to it. Today’s work would be on loving oneself — something that I often forget but could really use.

Toward the end of class, I pulled my legs in tight to my chest and give myself a virtual hug. We went into savasana and I let the tears come. I’m sorry. I’m so, so very sorry for the pain that I often cause myself. I’m so, so very sorry for always thinking the worst. I’m so, so very sorry for not eating breakfast.

Even after all that release, I remained very unsettled. I followed the class with a run… and the run with a meditation. By the time I’d done all of that it was evident that things were just not right in my little head. As I walked past my friend and favorite yoga instructor, she stopped me to ask what was up. A few words and a tearful hug later… my beautiful world was coming back into focus.

About a month ago, I tagged along on a road trip to SLO when The Man, and his parents, visited his son for a celebratory birthday lunch. Like in George’s song, this was one of those beautiful moments that take your breath away – unless you found yourself on the outside looking in, as I did.

My emotions took a nose dive as I watched the three generations interact. It was a lovely thing and yet it made me so very sad. Why couldn’t my boys have had this too? Not only has their father died, but their only remaining grandfather doesn’t seem to want to play.

After lunch I stood a few feet away from everyone, looked out at the water, and felt myself crawl into an energetic fetal position. I had to shake myself free from the stuckness I was in – but sometimes it’s just so hard to do.

Most days (when I am stuck on this), I am especially sad for YaYa, the youngest of the boys. The other 2 shared so many more of these “moments” with their dad — although I think that YaYa may have done a better job embracing the memories. On other days, I feel saddest for BoBo for I think that he struggles with how things were in the time-just-prior-to-death rather than remembering the baseball and football games, camping trips, and man-talk. As for DD, I don’t have a good idea of where he is at. But I know that it cannot be easy for him either. No longer is he able to call up for his dose of fatherly advice like he used to. And I just don’t have that level of wisdom that his father provided to offer him. Sometimes, I’m not sure if I’ve anything to offer him

…except my love, I guess. Hopefully, that is enough.

Shadow or not, my plants refuse to believe that Spring hasn’t sprung. My rose bushes continued to produce flower after  flower — making it impossible to time the Winter hack job. I finally caved and cut the back anyway. I don’t want a courtyard filled with scraggly, misshapen rose trees. Now do I? It’s been a while since I checked on my gardenias, but I’m hoping that they have survived my frequently-brown-nosed beast.

Inside, the house is a different story. I have no desire to slow down the emerging spring-like foliage. I have enjoyed watching my orchids grow new limbs and produce more and more buds. I water them, stroke their leaves and kiss the swollen buds with loving kindness.

And what do I get?

Yesterday, i awoke to find my first blossom had started to emerge much like a little chick slowly poking it’s way out into the world. Reluctantly, I left for work leaving it to do it’s thing all by itself.

By the time I returned home, she looked like this.

Come morning, she didn’t appear a whole lot different. I suspected she’d be wide open by the time I returned home.

Which, of course, she was!!!

Whether Spring comes now or, as Punxsutawney Phil has predicted, in 6 weeks…springtime has already begun unfolding inside my home and in my heart as well.

Note: These photos do not begin to show her in all her glory but they at least give you the sense that (1) we are having spring-like weather here (awaiting the California rains), and (2) I am thrilled to see my orchid do her thing.