There are two kinds of moms in the world. Moms that were born to mother daughters and those that were meant to mother sons. I’ve always known I was the latter. I don’t mind dirt and bugs and wrestling in the house – I’d prefer those things weren’t in my house, but it doesn’t bother me when they appear. In fact, I enjoy kicking off my shoes and engaging in an impromptu foot race through the dirt or rolling down a hill into a pile of leaves. I prefer wearing sneakers to heels, and I refuse to wear hose.
One Saturday in March, I enjoyed a proud-mother-of-a-son moment at the GSA soccer field. As my older son fervently ran up and down the field, my 7-year old struggled to climb over the chain-link fence separating one field from another. Other boys climbed up and hopped over, but my little one kept falling back in frustration. After a few failed attempts, my husband said, “When you get to the top, grab the bar and push yourself up with straight arms. Then step on the bar with one foot and you can swing over to the other side.”
Miraculously, my son climbed to the top, pushed himself onto straight arms, stepped on the bar and jumped over onto the ground below. My heart swelled with pride as I shouted, “Good job, Man!” and turned back to the game.
The following Sunday, I drove my older son and his teammate to a game about an hour away. It was a cold and rainy day, so I sat in the car on the edge of the field and tooted my horn whenever they made a good play. At the end of the game, my son and his friend raced to the car, got in and we headed home. The next morning, he came to me and asked, “Have you seen my cleats, Mom?” Red flag alert. Warning, warning.
For any other child, this wouldn’t be a major problem. Cleats missing? Just buy new ones and keep it moving. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy for us. My son has to special order his cleats because his feet are extra wide and flat. Additionally, he has special orthotic inserts that were made for him by a therapist in Maryland.
Like any good mother, I asked the coach, emailed the other kids’ parents, and even the called the other team’s coach to see if anyone had picked them up. No luck. Unfortunately, no one had a telephone number to the soccer field either. So, I got in my car during a 2-hour break between appointments that Monday morning and drove 45 minutes to the field. When I got there, the field was closed and locked… by a 6-foot chain link fence. I parked my car, got out and stared at the fence. Could I squeeze through the small opening between the two fences that were chained together? I tried and the immediate answer was... no.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the fence with both hands and poked the toe of my left sneaker into one of the links. I talked to myself all the way up the fence… “come on, you can do this. Pretend like you’re on the Amazing Race.” You know, stuff like that. When I got to the top bar, my husband’s voice came into my head like Obi Wan Kenobi from Star Wars. “When you get to the top, grab the bar and push yourself up with straight arms.” My arms were shaking from the climb, but I DID IT! I stepped on the top bar like he said, but there was NO WAY I was gonna jump down 6 feet – I’m not the Bionic Woman or the Six Million Dollar Man. So I gingerly stepped over onto a metal support bar and jumped 4 feet down instead.
It would have been great if the adventure ended there, but you know it didn’t. The field was more than a quarter mile away and my time was running out. I jogged across the parking lot and gingerly picked my way over the muddy field to the bench where the team had sat the day before. No cleats. Nothing. I sighed and turned around to go back, when it hit me. I would have to scale that fence again to get back to my car, and there was no support rail on the other side. I’m a praying woman, so prayer seemed appropriate at that moment.
Amazingly, as I jogged back, a truck came lumbering down the drive and parked behind my car. At first, I thought someone had seen me and reported me to the police and they were coming to drag me away for trespassing. But no, it was the Port-a-Potty clean-up man. He unlocked the chain and opened the fence, and I thought I heard angels singing and playing harps at that very moment. Not only did he let me out, but he also had a telephone number that went directly to the field director.
Some people might say this story is nothing more than luck, but I know a few things:
I have never scaled a fence in my life and I have never received instructions on how to do it. One week after I hear instructions on how to scale a fence, I had to do it.
I would have broken something I need to walk if I had jumped off that fence to the other side. The cleaning company came and unlocked the fence just as I prayed for assistance.
No one had a telephone number for the park and none was posted at the fields. The clean up man had a direct number to the Director of the field, and the Director was able to check the lost-and-found.
Call it what you want, but I didn’t miss the power of multiple coincidences. And, as always, I’m thankful for small blessings.more >>
I recently had a flashback to Fall 2002. I was living in Baltimore and my fitness outsourcing business was just beginning to grow. I had 2 corporate contracts and new companies were calling me to hire teachers for their fitness centers. There was a fantastic Pilates and dance instructor I'd been dying to bring on board, but we could never seem to get our schedules to mesh.
"Can you do 11:30 on Monday?"
"Uh, let me see... nope, my oldest has a playdate. What about 5:30?"
"Nope, soccer practice at the Y. How about Tuesday at noon?"
"Can't. The 2-year-old has TumbleTina class. Can you do earlier at 9:30?"
"Uh-uh. Sesame Street 9-10." (sigh)
Finally, we agreed that the only way we would be able to meet was to schedule a business playdate at the local Chuck E. Cheese. I don't like to use the word "hate", so I'll say, I truly dislike attending functions at Chuck E. Cheese.
Anyway, Chuck E. Cheese it was on a weekday around 11:45 am. Our 4-year olds chased each other in the jungle gym, while her 2-year old tossed colored balls into the mesh netting enclosing the ball bath. We each held a child, nursing, to our breast as we wrote quickly into our Franklin Planners and notebooks (yes, I was still doing Franklin Planner in 2002. I'd had a bad experience in 2000 when my Palm Pilot died unexpectedly and I didn't know when or where I was going and couldn't find numbers to call anyone to find out. It was 3 years of fear and mourning before I could return to electronic scheduling).
An hourand a half later, our meeting was done, the kids had all been fed, and a playdate had been knocked out all at once. Triumph.
Fast forward to 2010. A contact from the Chamber of Commerce called me and indicated we needed to meet immediately. Both of our schedules were booked solid with meetings, luncheons, and presentations. We both sounded fatigued and stressed as we scanned our Blackberry and Outlook calendars, trying to find any open 2-hour slot in the next few days.
Suddenly an idea came to me. Jeju Spa. The Korean bath house located only minutes from both our homes. Jeju is not your typical American spa. Yes, it has saunas, whirlpools, steam rooms and massage. But it also has wifi, CNN on plasmas, and computer work stations tucked quietly behind gigantic saunas Jeju refers to as "igloos."
"Can you meet me at Jeju tomorrow morning? I have a window of time between kids leaving for school and my first presentation at 11:45am."
"Perfect. If we meet at 8:30, I can fit in accupressure and still make my 11:00 meeting at the Chamber."
When I combine relaxing barefoot on a heated marble floor with closing a business deal as the scent of jasmine and sage float in the air... bliss is the only word that comes to mind. The spa is my golf course, and it's definitely a step up from Chuck E. Cheese.
Each and every one of my days is scheduled from waking to sleep. Not like my husband's schedule in which he is constantly in fear of a flight cancellation between Amsterdam and Barcelona or Tai Pei and Hong Kong. His scheduling concerns are bit more lofty than mine, but not nearly as complicated. Why not? Because he only has to worry about his own schedule.
Not one of my days looks anything like the next day or yesterday. And I like that. Being a Sagittarian that craves variety and freedom and excitement and hustle, I love planning my days with the anticipation of something new and different coming up in a day or a week. But anything I schedule for myself also involves some major arranging (and rearranging) for my sons and their activities.There's that one time I was called by the casting director of Tyler Perry studios to be an extra on a taping of The House of Payne and I spent the majority of my day on set in makeup and wardrobe. And that time I decided to teach for a week once a month in Jamaica. It took 4 months before I grew bored and stopped going.
The point is, I need variety in my mommypreneur lifestyle. For me, but not for my kids. My older son is a lot like I am - he's a free spirit, always ready to go anywhere, for any reason, with anyone. My younger son... not so much. He craves routine and schedule and order. And as a responsible mom, I provide it for my kids even though it goes against my natural character.
Each and every day of the week and weekend has a routine. Tuesday for instance is 3:45 - younger son home for snacks, homework and mom time. 4:20 - older son home for snacks, attacking younger brother, and talking non-stop, while I multi-task clean-up, dinner, and prepare to leave for classes at the studio. 5:30 - babysitter arrives. 5:45 - I leave for work. 6:30 - older son leaves for soccer. 7:00 younger son and babysitter interact. 8:00 older son home from soccer. 8:30 we all eat dinner, kids shower and get ready for bed. 9:30 I start yelling to the kids to stop talking and playing and "go to sleep." 10:00 I repeat yelling to the kids. 10:30 I may possibly still be yelling to the kids to "GO TO SLEEP! I MEAN IT THIS TIME!" Every Tuesday looks just like that without fail. It bores me to tears to have that much routine, but it's perfect for the boys.
Last week, I decided the kids (and I) needed change and fun and excitement in our schedule. We needed to rekindle our relationship as mommy and boys just like a married couple needs variety to keep the relationship interesting and fresh. I struggled to remember the last time the boys and I had been on a road trip together or racing each other in go-carts or doing any of the things we used to do on a whim. Not in a long time.
Last Wednesday, my night class at the studio didn't start until 7:45 and neither child had practice or something scheduled to do. So, at 5:30 I announced... "Hey guys, grab your coats and wallets. Let's go the mall." Now I know the mall is not really a big deal to most people. However, getting to spend an hour or two just walking through the mall for no good reason is not something I ever do and definitely not with my kids since they grew out of the stroller.
By 5:50, we were at the mall and the boys were excited as they punched each other through the sliding glass doors. We started with the indoor skate park where teens were skateboarding and blading over smooth hills and high-fiving on ramps high above the ground. Then we went to the book store (my boys and I are all book worms. I could have stayed in the bookstore for the rest of the visit, but alas it only lasted 15 minutes) where the boys discussed the latest release of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and the new book and movie series that looks just like Harry Potter to me. My older son wanted to spend all of his money on 3 books in the new like-Harry-Potter series, while my younger son discussed the merits of saving your money and checking in the library first as he resolutely returned his book to the shelf (at least I got one to carry on my genes for spending wisely). We then spent the next 5 minutes at the register as I turned my older son's POS into an extended math word problem. I apologized to the people standing in line behind us, but if you don't teach them early about money, tax calculations and change, they'll be fools as men, and this momma is not raising any irresponsible fools.
We eventually left the bookstore to walk and window shop. Our next stops included the Lego Store, the Japanese import store (they carry real swords and Japanese comic books which were both of major interest to my sons), and the candy store (where I refused to allow them to buy handfuls of sugar). As we stood at a kiosk purchasing a new wallet for my older son who recently lost his wallet full of money and gift cards (sigh), the younger one saw a trampoline and trapeze at the end of the hall. His little face lit up and he started to dance.
"Oh Mom, can I jump on that thing?" he asked excitedly pointing to a little child jumping barely 2 feet of the trampoline.
I thought about it. Normally, I would say no and we'd rush out of the mall to the next scheduled appointment. Looking at my watch, I quickly calculated the time we had left. There was time. So why not?
"Sure, Honey. Let me finish working with your brother on this wallet thing, okay?"
He started to dance and spin and hum, which he does when he's really happy. We made our way to the booth and saw that there were two activities that could be purchased for one price. The boys calculated the per person fee, put their money on the counter and raced into the kiosk kicking of coats and shoes as they went.
After 5-10 minutes of back-flipping, jumping to the ceiling of the mall, and sliding through elastic bands, we were finally able to pack up and leave - right on time to put me back on schedule for my class at 7:45.
On the way home, the boys talked about how much fun they'd had and tried to remember the last time we'd done something fun for no reason in the middle of the week. They couldn't. Neither could I. more >>
It's Friday night and I'm doing what I love to do most... sitting quietly in my bed without any demands on my time and energy from work, family or friends. Tonight, I'm alternately checking all of the emails that have backed up over the week and updating my social media pages.
During my email review, an email regarding my son's soccer schedule peaks my interest. Why? Because anything dealing with soccer seems to affect my entire life. Parent meetings, player evaluations, training schedules, tournaments, away games in thunder storms that aren't canceled until we drive about an hour from home in the downpour. Crazy little things like that seem to take me away from stuff I like - teaching Yoga, networking and socializing, laying in my bed to read a good book, etc.
Anyway, the point of this particular blog has nothing to do with emails, soccer or my desire to do what I want to do. It has to do with butt fat. Stay with me for the correlation...
So, I'm reading this email about the upcoming Spring soccer game schedule when my son comes barging into the room and starts animatedly describing how he's slaughtered and demolished his father in a game on the PS3. He jumps around showing me exactly what happened on the screen, and when he finally slows down to take a breath, I interject...
"Honey, I think you need to take a look at this schedule. There are some conflicts on here that we need to discuss."
He stops mid-slide, picks himself up off the floor and lopes over to where I'm sitting comfortably against some pillows in the bed. He looks at the computer screen and absentmindedly begins to poke softly on a tiny bed of fat that has spread out from the side of my buttocks to peek out of the top edge of the comforter. As he keeps reading and poking, I look down at the little ripple of fat that he's poking. He notices me looking at his finger sinking down into the pillow of brown and says...
"It's just so pokey, Mom." Like that explains everything.
Hm. Pokey. Is that how I want the extra inch of meat extending from my hips to be described? As I'm contemplating this, my husband comes into the room, sits down on the other side of me and starts to mimic my son, pressing gently into the butt-fat on his side.
"Ooh, it is soft."
I just sit there in confusion. How do I really feel about having hip-butt-fat to poke on? Every woman wants curvy hips, right? But how much curve is just right and how much is too much? Should I be concerned about this and start a new exercise program to focus on hip-butt-fat, or should I embrace the softness that screams "I AM WOMAN!"?
Almost simultaneously, they suddenly stop poking, get up, and start punching each other and yelling about who's better at Super Mario Bros on the Wii as they tumble out of the room.
I have a perfectly legitimate reason for standing in the front office of my son’s elementary school in my robe and a raincoat this morning. See, what happened was…
My husband, being the kind and considerate man that he is, quietly prepared for work without waking me. Before leaving, he reset the alarm clock for 8:00 am – the time my older son needs to get up and get ready for middle school. Slight problem… I needed to wake up at 7:00 am to start getting the younger son ready for elementary school.
At 7:45, I woke slowly and blinked uncomprehendingly at the alarm clock. Did the clock mean 7:45 as in the bus would be pulling up to pick up my younger child in 10 minutes? The child that was still slumbering peacefully upstairs?
Since I wasn’t scheduled to teach or attend any appointments until 11:30 am, I could wake him, get him ready and drive him to school. No problem, right? Right. I put on my red and white flowered robe, went upstairs, woke both kids, talked with them while they got ready, and made them breakfast as we packed lunches.
I glanced at the clock, saw that I had 15 minutes before the drive-thru child drop-off lane at the school would close, and leisurely suggested my son grab his coat and backpack since we only live 5 minutes from the school. I put on a pair of black sneakers with my red and white robe and threw on a short, hot pink raincoat. I thought to myself, “thank God for the drive-thru child drop-off,” and proceeded to reach for my keys in the key jar.
Keys. Where were the keys? I looked around the key jar, I dug in the bottomless pit of my mom-purse, I searched my coat pockets from yesterday. Nothing. Nowhere. I glanced at the clock. 5 minutes had elapsed. Only 10 minutes left. The keys had to be somewhere. I searched the kitchen table, the family room couch, and the floor beneath the dining room chairs. Nothing. Nowhere. 3 more minutes gone. My younger son began to feel my mood changing and he became tense. “Mommy… am I going to be late?” This was not a question I felt like answering right at that moment.
Just then, I saw my husband’s house keys on the dresser in our room. If his keys were here, that meant… Yep. He’d taken my key ring to work. My ring with the van key on it. Where in the world were the spare van keys?! I dug everything out of the key jar until I found it and raced out the front door with my son jogging breathlessly behind me.
Sigh… the last car was pulling out of the drive-thru child drop-off lane onto the main road just as I was pulling in. I had no choice but to drive up to the front of the school and park. Then it hit me – I was still wearing my red and white flowered robe with black sneakers and a short hot-pink raincoat. I blinked twice, took a deep breath and walked proudly into the school’s crowded front office like it was normal for a woman to be dressed as I was in a public place. I signed my son in, kissed him goodbye and walked back to my van with my head held high. Just then my cell phone rang.
“Hey Althea, the 9:30am Yoga teacher just canceled. Can you get here and teach her class in 20 minutes?” Sigh…more >>
The last thing I did before going to bed last night was mentally go through my schedule of activities for the following day:
7:45am Attend Governmental Business Meeting 11:00am Conference Call w West Coast 12:00pm Teach Corporate Yoga Class 2:00pm Conduct Audition & Interview for New Studio Instructor 3:30pm Get Younger Son from Bus & Mommy-Time 4:30pm Older Son Home & Mommy-Time 7:30pm Lead Meditation Discussion Group at the Studio
Here’s what actually happened:
6:45am Younger Son Vomiting & Diarrhea
7:00am Older Son Disgusted & Concerned at the Same Time
8:00am Washing Younger Sick Son's Soiled clothing and Linen
I knew when I looked out the window at the kids having a snowball fight at 9:30pm last night that there probably wouldn't be any school today. The temperature was dropping and snow was still falling, clinging to cars, trees, grass and the street. In Georgia, this is a strange and rare sight.
Secretly, I hoped it would keep snowing so my babies could enjoy the outdoor activities they loved when we lived up North. But the business side of me needed for the snow to stop, the temperature to hold, and schools to open today so I could go about my daily business.
Fast forward to this morning at 6:40am when my alarm went off. As I blinked, stretched and starting groping for the remote control to confirm if schools were closed, I heard a strange rustling and movement in the house. I don't have pets and my husband is out of town, so I was immediately on guard. I froze, listening to the continued movement. I grabbed my cell phone and a weapon as I crept to the bathroom to call 9-1-1. I was alert, ready to spring and fight when my 11-year old knocked lightly on the door calling, "Mom?" As my heartbeat returned to normal and I disconnected my 9-1-1 call, I looked at the strange apparition of my pre-teen son standing alert and awake at 6:50am on a school day. My mind couldn't comprehend the reality of this. Was this the same child who I have to shake, prod, push, and repeat "wake up, wake up" to about 20 times at 8:00am every Monday - Friday? What was he doing here? How was he able to wake up?
By the time, I found the remote, and turned to the news and opened my computer to check the status of school openings/closings, the 7-year old miraculously appeared in the doorway too! What strange phenomena was this? What magical power had sprinkled wake-up dust on my children while they slumbered?
After I confirmed that schools were indeed closed, the 11-year old broke into song... "JOY TO THE WORLD, THE LORD HAS COME..." and his 7-year old brother began to dance around him, stopping to pose in the mirror and smile at himself. I paused and looked at them in wonder, then I glanced at the clock. It was only 7:15am. The last time this miracle happened, it was Christmas Day.
I recently led a meditation discussion group where we discussed the power of the mind. We talked about the reality of being able to do anything you want to do if your mind allows the reality of it to exist. My kids proved that point perfectly this morning between the hours of 6:50 and 7:15am.
As I complete this blog, my children are playing together without fighting (another interesting development to note) and singing Jingle Bells. I have some work to do, but for the next few minutes, I'll allow January 8, 2010 to feel like a repeat of December 25, 2009.more >>
Last month, I heard a radio DJ ask the question, “Why can’t we stick to our resolutions, people?” Immediately, a faint memory came back to me…
I have a penchant for gummy bears. Black Forest Gummy Worms are my favorite. I also have a weakness for Publix brand yeast-rise glazed doughnuts. They come in a half-dozen box with a little cellophane window showing the crust of the glaze reflecting the lights from Publix’s 20-foot ceiling. Mm. Typically, when I crave gummies or a box of doughnuts, I make a quick trip to the store and pick up a bag or box and eat most of the contents on the way home. Once I get home, I let the kids or Hubby finish of the bag or box, because I’m satisfied. As a matter of fact, I might not even think about gummies or doughnuts for another 2-3 weeks until the craving hits me again.
One day, I had the bright idea to abstain from eating these sweet, high calorie, unhealthy items, because I’m a fitness professional and I should be setting a good example, right? Right! So - in all my infinite fitness consultant wisdom – I decided to simply stop eating them. Period. I was proud of myself and held my head high as I drove past Publix on my way to a meeting. But something interesting started to happen. All through the meeting, my mind kept wandering to thoughts of green and red striped gummy bears. I actually thought I could smell their fruity sweetness at one point during our discussion. Weird.
As I drove home, I couldn’t stop thinking that I needed to pick something up from Publix. Maybe some milk or bread for the kids’ breakfast. I swerved into a space, walked boldly into the store, and purposely strode past the bakery section – which is on the opposite end of the bread and milk - to show myself how strong I was in my conviction to stop eating the perfectly glazed yeasty treats. I made it home that day without the doughnuts or the gummies, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them! I stood in the refrigerator and pantry looking for something to snack on, but nothing would suffice. I shut the door in frustration and pushed myself to do something – anything – to get my mind off the two objects I wanted more than anything at that precise moment.
Two days later, my desire to taste the flavor of Black Forest gummies and Publix doughnuts was so overwhelming that I caved. I got into my car at 8:45 p.m. with the sole purpose of purchasing and consuming gummies and doughnuts. I bought 3 bags of worms and a box of doughnuts. I ate 2 full bags and the whole box of doughnuts that night.
Why am I telling you this? Because I think someone reading this blog at this very moment is wildly craving something no longer allowed as a New Years resolution. Unfortunately, I think our minds are wired to crave what we can’t have. So instead of telling yourself “no,” enjoy in moderation and make eensie, teensie little changes that your mind and body can tolerate. Cold turkey changes may work for a few, but definitely not for most. Enjoy the start to 2010 and allow yourself the time and patience to make realistic and subtle changes that will last a lifetime… Happy New Year everyone!
This afternoon, I lay in my bed looking out the picture window to the leaves falling in the backyard. I was deep in thought when the voices of about 5 little boys running through the leaves distracted me. I watched as my sons and their friends dodged and ducked each other, running between trees and jumping over exposed roots. Eventually, they all clambered onto the trampoline – and my heart skipped a beat. Normally, only 2-3 kids jump at once, but there were 5 boys ages 7, 9, 10 and 11 jumping at once. All of a sudden I heard my 7-year old scream out and fall to the side. The other kids stopped jumping and ran to his side. I don’t think I took a breath during the 30 seconds that he lay still. All of a sudden he jumped up, laughing and screaming, “I got you, I tricked you!” And my breathing returned to normal and my heart starting beating again. I continued to watch as they created games – grabbing stray balls from the ground below and aiming them at each other as they jumped and flipped on the trampoline. It was dangerous, but they didn’t care. They played with total abandon, not worried if 1 of them fell off. I watched amazed as 1 boy then another would topple over the edge onto the ground. He’d gingerly pick himself up, dust off the dirt and leaves, and climb back up to return to the game. I immediately thought of my life as an adult. When did I stop playing with abandon and fear? When was the last time I allowed myself to fall off the edge, get up, dust off, and climb back in the game? When had I faced an oncoming ball head-on and jumped and dodged to stay out of the way, but was still laughing and excited about the challenge? Sometimes I revert to the child I was. Playing hard, laughing hard, not caring if I fall down or get cut and bruised. But sometimes I’m concerned about how the game might affect my budget, my roles as a wife and mother, my position as a business owner and community leader. The trick is to find the balance – balance between playing with abandon and enjoying all that life has to offer (both the jump over the ball and the fall to the ground), and being mindful of the realities of being a responsible adult. I’m determined to treat my current journey like a wild game of dodge ball on a trampoline with too many people. Bring it!more >>
December 23rd, 2008 Journaling. It wasn’t called journaling when I was teenager, though. I kept a diary back then. I’ve kept a diary or journal since I was in the 9th grade. I’ve lost many of them, but the journals I recorded for both of my kids and the journals of my growth as a mother and entrepreneur are all in drawers in my bedroom. Every once in awhile, I like to go back and read some of the early entries. My 10-year old loves it when I read to him from an entry I recorded when he was 1 or 2 years old. He can’t believe he did or said some of the funny stuff he did back then. The same is true for me. But let me digress for a minute. I love to read. Everything and anything. Historical fiction; old English literature (especially Jane Austen and Joan Aiken); chick lit; biographies; English fiction (hilarious stuff out of these new fiction writers hailing from England); African American fiction (love that Eric Jerome Dickey); religion (all religions), philosophy, astrology and human studies (extremely interesting to me); inspirational; anatomy and kinesiology (it’s my business - gotta stay up-to-date, right?). I’m always totally engrossed in some deep tome. Deepak Chopra. If you know who he is, heard one of his tapes or ever read anything by him, you understand why I can stop with simply writing his name. Deepak Chopra - the man is deep and he’s on point. A couple of years ago, I picked up The Seven Spriritual Laws of Success by Mr. Chopra. It was on a table of $3 books at a going-out-business sale. I spent a month reading the book - a couple of days to read and digest each chapter. My plan was to put the 7 laws into practice a day or so after marinating on the content of each law. Right. I thought I was so deep and in-tune and all that. I didn’t know what the Hell Deepak was talking about in a couple of the chapters. And I was extremely frustrated that I couldn’t follow the 2 or 3 simple rules for putting each law into practice that was carefully outlined at the end of each chapter. (sigh). I put the book on a shelf and went on my busy wife, mommy, entrepreneur way. Every once in awhile, I’d pull it out and review the outlines at the end of the chapter. But for a year, it was still frustrating that I didn’t believe that people (read I) couldn’t really live like that. Trusting, believing, giving completely of myself, living only in the moment, etc, etc. Now don’t get me wrong… I was GOOD on a couple of the laws. Take the Law of Pure Potentiality. You’re supposed to be still 2x a day and take moments to commune with nature - listen to water or a breeze, watch the sunrise or set. I’ve got that thing down to a science and it’s easy and comfortable for me. It’s the other 5 and a portion of 6 that was bringing your girl down. I put the book on a table at the studio and didn’t read a page in it from February (when we started construction on the studio) to December 21. During that time, I kept two journals - 1 to chronicle every step, word and deed of opening the studio and the other was my normal “diary” journal. Yesterday, I spent a quiet day in my studio wrapping up some loose ends before the holidays. I took care of some accounting and bookkeeping issues. I shipped off some videos and final holiday cards. I cleaned out my in-box and updated my calendar for the week of my return to the office. I returned about 50 past-due emails. I reviewed some legal documents. After posting a “Closed for the Holidays” sign in the window, I drove home to heat up leftovers for my lunch. I’d brought Deepak’s book home in my cleanup of the studio. It was lying on the table next to my placemat. So, as I consciously chewed my food (I’m really in to paying attention to flavors and textures while eating), I slowly reread each of the outlines at the end of each chapter. What was crazy is every word made total sense. Each bullet point was something I am currently practicing in my life. And I get it. I really get it. After lunch I wrote some of my thoughts about the year in my journal. Then I took a moment to read a couple of entries from a year ago. I compared it to what I’d been writing for the last couple of months. It was like reading entries written by two different people. The current entries were full of hope, faith, excitement and promise. The entries from a year ago were full of fear, frustration and being overwhelmed. A recently a friend asked me if I’d always thought and acted the way I do now, and I didn’t know the answer. Now I do. Sometimes, we think we’re grown, but we’re not really grown. Someone can’t tell us we’re not grown, though. We have to experience something personally to know that we’re not grown. Growth is a continual process - it’s the purpose of life. Gaining wisdom through experience. I couldn’t understand some of the principles in Deepak’s book, because I hadn’t grown through certain experiences yet. The challenges of the last year of opening my studio while still being a parent volunteer in both of the kids classes; community volunteer; running the household while Big Maurice traveled for work; networking my butt off for the business at breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, happy hours, etc; teaching 10 - 13 classes a week, personal training clients, and listening with true care to the troubles and challenges of each student and member at the studio; being a good friend, sister, daughter, wife, mother to the people I cherish in my life. The balancing act would have been impossible to pull off well if I didn’t use the laws. And the personal changes required to make it happen was apparent in my journaling. I don’t know what 2009 will bring me. Life is full of challenges, surprises (good, bad and in-between), and experiences. What I do know is I will have a chronicle of the journey to read and reread like the outlines at the end of a chapter.more >>
May 28th, 2008 Last Friday, my husband and I drove the kids to Dallas, Texas for my sister-in-law’s college graduation. I love to road trip - I like seeing different places and trying new adventures with the kids. And the destination always seems to end up in some type of party. We like to party almost as much as we like to road trip - okay, more. Anyway, after the graduation, we went to one of our relative’s house for a barbeque. The kids jumped on a trampoline outside and the parents flowed from kitchen to family room meeting, greeting and eating. Now, I’ve never really been the type of person to eat large quantities of food at one time - I’m more of what you’d call a grazer. I pick and snack in tiny quantities all day long. At large gatherings, like this barbeque, I usually get a plate with tiny amounts of salad, chicken, collard greens - you know… whatever is there. And throughout the course of the day or evening, I’d go back for another little bit of this-and-that. And I love dessert. I’m picky about the type of dessert I like, but homemade cakes and muffins and sweet rolls - mmmmm. Again, I normally cut a little sliver of this and a corner of that and walk around until I see something else I might want to try. Well, something about this particular barbeque in Dallas had me doing more than swiping quick little bites here and there. Maybe it was the perpetual smell of roasting rib meat, or the aroma of homemade barbeque sauce, or the sight of barbeque baked beans in a huge roaster prepared for the mass of family and friends that would come through the kitchen in the coming hours. I don’t know what it was, but I could NOT stop eating! I mean I ate non-stop for about 2 hours. And it wasn’t healthy food either - it was straight meat and cake! I don’t even eat that much meat on a regular basis, so it was really weird. I felt so guilty, I made my father-in-law take me to the grocery store to buy veggies for a salad, 2 bags of cherries, a container of strawberries and some baked tortilla chips and pretzels. Guilt and the fact that my 6-year old doesn’t eat meat and would starve if I didn’t get him something he would like. Back at the house with my bags full of goodies, I felt better. I washed the fruit and mixed them in a colander. I tossed the veggies for a salad in a big bowl and put it on the island with a couple of salad dressing options. And I started eating - again. At least it was healthy food my body was used to consuming, so I didn’t feel so bad. When the kids came in from outside, they didn’t ask for chicken, or ribs, or baked beans. They went straight for the fruit and bottled water and chips and pretzels. Within two hours, all of the healthy food was gone! Now, I don’t know what any of this means, but I told my husband the next day (as I lay back in the bed holding my aching stomach), “I truly understand how challenging it is for some people to change their eating habits. If I lived in a house where the main food choices were good smelling, delicious looking, unhealthy food and there were rarely healthy options, I’d find it a real challenge to lose weight and stay healthy.” I think I have a better understanding of some of the challenges the kids and participants in my fitness classes and healthy living programs are dealing with. I felt really guilty as I was continuing to cut bigger and bigger slices of lemon pound cake onto my paper plate. I kept eating even as I felt my stomach angrily growling and rolling over while I continued to eat the ribs and baked beans. I knew I was full and, yet, I still went back into the kitchen for more when the conversation in the family room ended. Stuffed to the max, I kept picking up chips from the dish on the table and munching on it as we sat around and talked about current events. If people feel like I felt those two days in Dallas every day, I can only imagine the guilt and frustration plaguing them. Well, I’m back home now. I would like to report that I immediately went back to my healthy eating ways, but I can’t. My 12-year wedding anniversary was Monday and, of course, we had to celebrate. We had two different kinds of cakes and they were both delicious!!! But I only ate 2 pieces yesterday, and I haven’t had any today. I ran my usual 3.2 miles this morning and I’ve been busy in the office all day. I’m back on track with my eating and exercise routine, but I now have a better appreciation of the struggles to eat healthy.
Posted by Altheatized at 1:20 PM 0 commentsmore >>
February 15th, 2008 My family moved around a lot when I was young. No, my dad wasn’t in the military or anything, but we did relocate several times for various corporate opportunities that came up for him. Some people think that’s a hard life to have as a child, but I didn’t know anything different. And now it makes it easy for me to adapt to any environment and converse with many different people as an adult. What’s interesting is that music was one of my only constants back then. Certain songs remind me of cities, activities, and trips. For instance, when we would roadtrip from Indiana to South Carolina in the 70s, John Denver or the Eagles would often be on the radio (if we got a radio station). I love the song Hotel California because it reminds me of beautiful mountain scenery while I relaxed in the back seat of the car. I think I love jazz because my father would play Take Five on his trumpet or listen to Herb Alpert and Chuck Mangione albums. My favorite jazz musicians are gone now, but I still lovingly listen to Grover Washington Jr and George Howard because of the appreciation I learned for it in the 70s. Additionally, my parents listened to old music like Motown groups and the Stylistics and, still a favorite, Sam Cooke. Those songs remind me of family and love. Now I’m close to 40 years old with a husband, children and a mortgage. Interestingly, not much has changed in my taste in music. I still jump up and gyrate when XM radio plays Me So Horny by Two Live Crew. I still chill to Grover Washinton Jr’s Mister Magic. I still close my eyes and imagine the mountains when I hear the words “summer breeze, makes me feel fine, blowin’ through the jasmin in my miiiiind.” I still shake my head at what I was wearing in 1985 when I hear Duran Duran’s Hungry Like The Wolf. I still get angry when kids call a DeBarge song a Biggie Smalls’ songs. I still want to head bang when I hear “… with a rebel yell, I cry more, more, more” by Billy Idol. I can listen to hours of mixed house music by artists and DJs like Lil Louie Vega or my good friend, DJ Oji. Living in Baltimore introduced me to B-more Club music, and I have wonderful flashbacks when I hear old Miss Toney songs (God rest his soul). I still throw my hands in the air when the go-go song by DJ Kool commands “put me in the water!” Visions of many dancehall parties (both in Jamaica and in the states) still come vividly to mind when I hear a Stone Love mix of old Tiger and Buju Banton songs. The combination of R&B and jazz created the wonderful genre of neo-soul, and I sometimes have to stop in my tracks to dance and sing out loud with Jill Scott, Erykah Badu and Raheem Devaughn. Like Erik Sermon said in his song with Marvin Gaye - “I wish music could adopt me!” And, speaking of rap music - part of the reason I fell for my husband as a teenager was because he looked like my favorite rapper of the day, Big Daddy Kane. (sigh) I just realized there isn’t enough time or room for me to talk about all of my favorite songs, artists and genres of music. So, I will just give a shout out to two of my favorites which were not mentioned earlier in this blog: my favorite artist of all time - Prince. And my favorite album - Keith Sweat from 1988. Wait, maybe my favorite album is any album by LL Cool J. Ugh, I don’t know… I just love music. My iPod and Apple TV are full of classics and new jams from a variety of genres of music. My mind is full of memories associated with every song I hear. Music is as essential to my life as the water I drink every day. I couldn’t imagine my life without it (and neither could my family and friends).more >>
February 10th, 2008 Prior to 1997, I was a rather messy person. I’ve never been one to spend an evening or weekend mopping, vacuuming or dusting. My bedroom was usually cluttered with mounds of unfolded laundry and shoes and purses and receipts and college memorabilia - well, you get the picture. But something happened. Well, 2 things happened. First, my husband and I moved into our first real house. It was the cutest little brick cottage on an acre of wooded land in a wildlife preserve in a Baltimore suburb. We loved that house - therefore we took care of it and I kept it clean. But then the second thing happened… I had no idea I was pregnant as I mountain climbed, played tennis, lifted weights like a body builder and danced like an Alvin Ailey wannabe. The realization hit us like a ton of bricks. What did we know about raising a child? But the baby came and we got the gist of what to do pretty quickly (we didn’t really have a choice). I realized I had a compulsion in the last trimester of my pregnancy as I folded and refolded my coming child’s onesies and placed them lovingly in the cherry wood dresser we’d purchased just for him. My compulsion is folding laundry. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. In fact, I decided to write this blog because I just spent the last fifteen minutes carefully folding shirts from the dryer. Compulsive behavior or a compulsion is defined as a psychological and usually irrational force that makes somebody do something, often unwillingly. I don’t just fold laundry - I make folded shirts look like a table in Abercrombie & Fitch. My folded towels look like a window display for Bed, Bath & Beyond. If I put the laundry away and find rumpled shirts in my sons’ drawer, I have to stop (no matter how late I am or what I’m doing) and refold everything and perfectly align them in the drawer before putting in the newly cleaned and folded shirts. It’s totally compulsive and irrational. My mother and brother tease me because they know I’m always doing laundry and folding clothes. I don’t even want anyone to help me because they never seem to get the crease right in the shirts. Or the the seams are not properly aligned on the washcloths when they’re stacked up. I know - crazy. Now, I have no qualms about sharing this compulsion with you because I don’t think it’s a bad compulsion to have relative to some others I’ve observed and heard about. I do have others - music has to ALWAYS be playing around me, I MUST have popcorn at the movies, the kitchen HAS to be clean in order for me to cook in it - but they’re all pretty tame. And, I can survive for an hour or so without music playing, I can watch a movie without popcorn (if I’m chewing gum), and I can cook dinner without cleaning the dishes if I’m in a hurry or preoccupied. But the rumpled, wrinkled shirts or improperly folded pants and towels - naw. Can’t do it. I’ll start twitching or something. Seriously. So now you know a secret about me. Don’t tell anyone.more >>
February 5th, 2008 Like many kids this past Christmas, my boys got a Wii. As is typical with the kids’ video games, I didn’t have a clue and didn’t WANT to have a clue about how it worked or what the objective was for any of the games. But, like in the past, I let them talk me into learning how to play a game with them. I wasn’t thrilled about how long it took to create Mii - a little person saved on the Wii that’s supposed to look just like me - but the little brown woman with long hair and big eyes did look a little like me when we finally got done fighting over the features. The first game I played was bowling. It wasn’t hard and it was something I could do with my 5-year old - no problem. Over New Years, we went to visit family in Mississippi and all of the kids were playing Dancing With The Stars on a cousin’s Wii. Now THAT was fun. But don’t think I just jumped in there with the 15 and under set… no, I watched and waited and shimmied in my chair until the older kids left and only the 8 and under were trying to figure out how to get the maximum points from doing the Cabbage Patch that I decided to jump in and “help.” 15 minutes later, I was actually perspiring a little! Maybe it was the cute little fur vest I was wearing and refused to take off because it matched the rest of my outfit, but whatever - I was warming up and working out. I would have been fine if that were my last experience ever with the Wii, but what happened after New Years is the real point of this whole blog… One day my husband, a new-to-exercising former couch potato, was watching our boys run a Wii 400 meter hurdles against the neighbors kids when he decided to compete in a race. It was comical watching him tower above the heads of the young boys working his arms as fast he could. About 10 minutes later, he was losing a boxing match against our 5-year old. A few minutes after that, he was earnestly trying to win a Mario race against 7-year old twins and our 9-year old. That evening at dinner, he kept rubbing his upper arms. “Wow, I really got a workout today,” he exclaimed. For the next week or so, my husband played the Wii like other people go to the gym once they start seeing results - religiously. I even got in on the action and raced him and the boys in a 100 meter dash and, I’m proud to report, I even won the 400 meter hurdles! (They only let me do that once.) I’ve heard the reports of people throwing out shoulder joints and going to the emergency room with injuries, but in my household, the Wii is a pretty good substitute for a missed gym workout - at least from my husband’s point of view.more >>
August 17th, 2007 Where should I begin? I’ll just start from the beginning… Several years ago, one of my clients began getting acupuncture treatments. She never told me why or what the end result was, but she used the term “wow” several times. Since then, I’ve wondered about acupuncture - will I really not feel the needles? does it really have any affect that I’ll be able to detect? how will I find a good acupuncturist that’s not some scam artist just poking me? is it expensive? etc, etc, etc. In May, a girlfriend of mine starting visiting various acupuncturists in our area, but the second one she met, she raved about. I was so pleased with her review, I decided to stop wondering and find out for myself what it’s all about… In June, I went for my consultation and first session. Dr. Kerri Winston-Slayton, the young lady who was my acupuncturist, asked several questions about my health, medications, lifestyle, stress levels, sleep patterns, eating habits, and physical ailments or concerns. Then she asked me to lie on my back on a massage table. While she worked, she explained the difference between the Japanese and Chinese approach and thought processes to acupuncture. “In the Chinese method, the needles are left in various points of the body, while the Japanese style is to take the needles out immediately after working with a particular section of the body unless there is a concern at that point.” Dr. Kerri uses the Japanese method - which was all good to me since I didn’t want to look down and see a thousand needles projecting from my legs. My main concern at the first session was my left hip. I’ve been to physicians and physical therapists for an aggravating case of tendinitus that’s been hampering my jogging and fitness routine for at least two years. It was so bad that after any bout of exercise, I’d be limping or in great pain for the rest of the day. I hoped the acupuncture would relieve some of the pain, but I wasn’t completely trusting that it would. No lie - my friends and exercise partners can tell you - I haven’t felt pain in that hip since July. So, long story short - I was sold on acupuncture. I went back in July for my second session and this time, I focused on the horribly tight and painful area between and above my shoulder blades where I carry all that stress I blogged about last month. I’ve been getting massage from various therapists for over 8 years trying to “get the rocks out of my back and neck” to no avail. In fact, massage is usually so painful for me in that area, I would sometimes be in tears during the session. (Side note here - everywhere else on my body is blissfully happy during a massage. I often fall asleep until the therapist gets to those knots in my neck/back and I start to cry like a baby - wimp that I am) So, without much hope for success, I asked her to work the acupuncture magic on my stress spot. When she first approached the area, gently touching, palpating and kneading my shoulders and upper rhomboids, I felt the pain immediately and just tried to breathe, like I was in labor again, to calm down. She applied the needles and, this time, left the needles in to work a little longer in the extremely tight area. Now, it’s important for me to express something here. You may be wondering if I ever felt the needles. No - it simply feels like she’s tapping softly on points of my body. I can’t tell when a needle is in, being taken out or is still there when she’s done. So, I had no idea the needles were still in my back when she left me to relax and meditate at the end of the session. As the laws of science would have it, I had to go to the bathroom right then and there, and I couldn’t hold it any longer. So, I got up from the table to go to the restroom and was surprised to see a needle fall to the floor from my shoulder - uh oh. Anyway, Dr. Kerri took care of me, I relieved myself and 2-3 weeks later, some of the tightness and pain in my shoulders had subsided. I could actually give myself a gentle shoulder massage and roll my head around my neck without yelling out in pain. In fact, I’ve noticed that I don’t shrug my shoulders anymore when I’m in the office, driving or working on the computer - now that’s a first in about 9 years. Two days ago was my third session, because now, I’m absolutely sold on the positive results of acupuncture on my physical and mental state. I didn’t really have any particular thing to focus on, so I just went because I really like it and I”m sure something is being improved upon in my body that I’m just not aware of. Boy was I right. The first thing Dr. Kerri did was to put the needles in points along my shin just below my knees. While she was working, she asked me a few questions and took my pulse between injecting and removing needles. As she worked and I answered/talked, I felt my stomach jumping and gurgling and moving around. Should I not have eaten that banana and drunk that bottle of water before the session, I wondered to myself? But by the time she’d gotten to the fourth needle, I felt like I was in the last month of the 2nd trimester of pregnancy because something was really moving and kicking in my abdominal area - not in a painful, uncomfortable way, just weird and pregnant-like. So I asked, “Excuse me, Dr. Kerri, my stomach is really gurgling and moving around. Is that because of what you’re doing or should I avoid eating before my sessions?” She laughed softly and said, “It’s me. I’m working on your digestive system right now. It’s good to eat before your session, because it gives the digestive system something to work on when I get that area going.” Wow. When my children came home that afternoon from school and starting running around like crazy lunatics and couldn’t focus on their school projects (yes, the kids in Georgia have already gone back to school - Thank GOD!), I was weirdly calm. When we went to the grocery store to get a box of donuts and brownie mix for their projects (don’t ask, just accept that they needed those items), I, for some strange reason, didn’t even CRAVE my favorite Publix daily-made yeast-rise donuts. Each child, my husband and my brother ate them for dessert that evening. I never even looked at them. (Seriously, Publix’s yeast ring donuts are my FAVORITE guilty pleasure food. Second is Black Forest Gummy Worms. Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm. So this was truly a serious miracle) That night, I slept so hard, I didn’t even hear the alarm ringing in the morning. My husband had to come out of the shower, turn it off and call to me several times to wake me from the deep sleep I was in (I’m usually a light sleeper). Wow. Now, I don’t know if all that stuff is directly related to the acupuncture, but I’ll tell you four things - 1) I would have done anything, including hip surgery, to end the pain in my hip. Since acupuncture, I haven’t felt more than a twinge once in awhile; 2) I’ve had knots and rocks in my shoulders/upper back for the last 9 years. The fact that I can sit and type this without having to take a break and literally push my shoulders down from my ears is amazing. Only since acupunture; 3) I have NEVER gone in Publix one week before my menstrual cycle (I know - TMI) and NOT gotten a box of yeast-ring donuts and eaten two before I made it home. Two days ago it happened and I didn’t even WANT them! Acupuncture?; 4) I hadn’t been sleeping well since Sunday trying to prepare my 5-year old for kindergarten at a new school. I slept HARD two nights ago and again last night. I really think it’s the acupuncture. Now I completely understand my client’s comments all those years ago - wow. There is a lot that Dr. Kerri explained to me about anatomy, the body, our systems and how everything is linked through various pressure points. I can feel the connections as she works. I don’t feel the needles and I’ve gotten more results in three months than I’ve ever received in the past 9 years of doctor and therapist visits. Wow is all I have to say to that.more >>
July 11th, 2007 I love pampering. I think pedicures, taking vacations and just sitting around in my pajamas watching movies when the house needs to be cleaned is fantastic. Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m pretty laid back and I know how to “chill.” But there’s another side to me. My classmates from business school or the people who were in the Student Senate with me in college know a different Althea (and they like to remind me about that Althea all the time) - They know the professional, driven, business Althea. When I left my corporate job, chopped off all my hair (that was before the locs) and had children, I let 50% of the driven, business Althea go. She was a little too intense for me. However, 50% of her is still lurking beneath the locks, waiting for me to finish my Yoga sessions, morning meditations, and evening jogs around the soccer field where my son plays. As soon as I get into my office and start taking calls, going through the mail and bills, negotiating contracts, or discussing media opportunities she creeps out. I find myself subconsciously hunching my shoulders, rounding my back, breathing in short breaths and perspiring for no reason. The truth? I’m still stressed - just not as much as before. How did I find out? A massage I received 4 years ago told the truth. As soon as the masseuse touched the area between my shoulder blades just below my neck… ugh! It was so painful. To this day, I still have knots in my shoulders, and massage in that area is extremely uncomfortable and painful. I started acupuncture last month. It helped to end a pain I had in my hip for the last year. But those knots in my upper back? They’re still hanging on. I’m taking my own advice - patience and constant reminders to breathe deep and relax my shoulders when I’m in the office. Right now, though… I just took a break to force my shoulders down and roll my head around my neck. (Those knots are still there.)more >>
July 2nd, 2007 When I was very young, my parents used to drive far distances to compete in running road races. 5ks, 8ks, half and full marathons. We’d drive hours to go to a road race, and sometimes we’d make it a family trip and stay over night (my favorite memory is the Corpus Cristi Seafood Festival Road Race in Texas). My early memories are of spaghetti dinners with the families of other runners; men wearing short shorts and mesh tank tops just like the women; the sun not quite up yet as the runners warmed up with slow jogs and stretching; getting bananas, yogurt and juice for free from the sponsor tables; handing out little paper cups of water along the race trail to sweaty runners that grabbed them, sipped and threw the cups on the road; walking with my mom and dad after the race as they “cooled down”; waiting and clapping when they annouced runners we knew in each age/gender class. The mantel above the fireplace in my childhood home held my parent’s running trophies until I was coming home to visit with my husband and children. I didn’t realize how much running and the healthy way of life my parents had created for my brother and me played a part in my development and making me who I am as an adult. I run. I’ve always run. I run for relaxation and to think. It’s my mental getaway from reality. Sometimes I try to run fast and it hurts my knees and hips, so I go back to jogging slow. As I get closer to 40, I realize that running is as much a part of me as waking and sleeping. When I don’t do it, I miss it. When I’m stressed, I wake at 6:30 a.m. and find my Adidas and running shorts and head for the local track or the park. My parents didn’t take us to the road races to teach us anything - they were just doing what they loved and had no choice but to bring their babies too. When I’m at the track at night, my boys and their friends are right there playing ball or pretending to be Jedi knights from Star Wars as I run around them, admonishing them for screaming too loud or hitting someone too hard. I hope that when they grow to men, they’ll have the same desire to be outside, doing something physical just like I did when I grew up. How many parents and mentors really realize the affect and impact they’re having on a child? I wonder if my parents realize that their lifestyle choice in the 70s created the foundation for who I am today and, in turn, affects their grandsons today? I guess I’ll see the results in about 10-15 years…more >>
June 11th, 2007 I have a pet peeve. It’s in regards to my hair. In a couple of printed magazine and newspaper articles, my hair has been referred to as braids. I’ve been asked numerous times if they are extensions. My hair is not in braids, nor are they extensions. They are loc’ed. What is loc’ed you might ask? It is the preferred term for a natural hairstyle popularly known as dreadlocks. Dreadlocks were first worn by members of the Rastifarian religious group in Jamaica. One of the religious rites includes not combing or cutting the hair. Bob Marley, who began practicing Rastifarianism in 1967, made the style popular when he became an international singing sensation and human rights activist. I am not a Rastifarian, nor do I practice any of the Rastifarian religious rites. I do, however, love the natural curly, kinky texture of my hair - so I wear it naturally coiled into itself. I wash it once or twice a week (and yes, it takes forever to wash and several hours to dry) and I maintain a neat look by separating the individual locs once every couple of months. When I’m making a video or preparing for a presentation or show, I go to a “loctician” (a hair stylist that specializes in grooming and styling locs) to give me a clean, polished and unique style. I have been wearing my hair naturally since 1992 (meaning no chemicals or perms) and I have been loc’ing my hair since 1995. I keep it cut to the middle of my back because I don’t like to sit on my hair, and because it gets really heavy when I’m trying to exercise. Why do I refer to my hair as “locs” instead of the typical term “dreadlocs”? Because I don’t think there is anything dreadful about naturally kinky hair - I think my locs are beautiful and healthy. They even look good on Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean! So now the mystery of my hair has been solved… Check out my next blog about my first acupuncture session. Awesome!!!more >>
