Be Free Where You Are.

[befreewhereyouare]

Two Months Later

When I stop to think about it, I feel astounded that in just two months, I went from being in an accident, to having facial reconstructive surgery, to three weeks of bedrest that led up to three weeks of travel (East Coast, British Columbia and Northern California) and finally to be home now, slowly sinking back into some semblance of “normal” life.

I’m grateful to everyone who visited, brought me food, sent flowers, called, texted, emailed, etc. throughout this whole ordeal. Your support and well wishes really were the light that helped me through some dark times when I felt completely uncertain about where everything was heading.

In the past two months, I’ve had more contact with the Western medical system than at any point in my adult life, and as much as I am normally one to criticize all that is wrong with this system (and I’m not saying by any means that it isn’t broken), I am profoundly grateful for the treatment it offers for acute situations like mine. When I think about what it must have taken to figure out the logistics for doing facial reconstruction, I am pretty amazed. And I am likewise amazed by the potency of Eastern medicine and other alternative systems to also support me in this journey, especially the herbs that have dramatically reduced inflammation and relieved my pain.

At this point, my surgeon is very happy with the post-surgical scans, as well as my appearance. One of the biggest risks of the surgery I had was the potential for asymmetry or a droopy eye, but I seem to be in the clear on both those fronts. The biggest physical hurdle I have yet to cross is regaining full use of my right jaw muscle. Although my jaw was not injured in the initial accident, I was unable to use the TMJ muscle fully in the days following both the accident and surgery, initially due to pain and subsequently due to the need to avoid any type of vigorous chewing or other activity that could have damaged the surgical work done to my cheekbone.

Unfortunately, like any muscle in the body, when the TMJ is underused, it has a proclivity to contract and so I developed a condition known as trismus (the medical term for the condition commonly known as lockjaw). When the TMJ is contracted, you cannot open your mouth fully. The normal human mouth opens about three finger widths wide, but I can currently only open about one fingers width, so it’s a pretty dramatic and noticeable disability at this point that prevents me from eating normally, brushing my teeth with anything larger than a child-size toothbrush, etc.

The best treatment for trismus is through passive motion, i.e., applying pressure to gently force open the jaw, which over time stretches the muscle until full function is regained. In the past, the pressure was applied using fingers or with tongue depressors, but today there is a handheld machine called a Therabite that works much more efficiently to heal trismus. My Therabite arrived yesterday and I’m already amazed by it. My personal goal is to have more or less normal range of motion by Labor Day weekend. It’s a pretty aggressive goal given that it can take on average 6-12 weeks to heal trismus, but I am confident in my body’s ability to heal quickly, based on what I have seen so far. I am also complementing my work on the Therabite with craniosacral therapy, including a treatment with a CST practitioner who has dental training, allowing him to actually work on the muscles inside my mouth directly. He feels like my chances for a speedy recovery are great, and that was profoundly reassuring.

Beyond the physical, I know that the emotional healing involved in a traumatic case like this will take time. I’m grateful to have a team of support in this area that includes therapists, as well as my husband and other friends who offer me the gift of deep listening.

In these two months, I’ve had some realizations about the nature of healing, some of which I’ve always known with my mind but haven’t really been able to encapsulate into a full felt sense through direct experience. I’d like to share a couple of these here:

1)    Healing takes a community. No one fully heals alone. Aside from doctors and other trained practitioners, friends and family are healing allies, and the people who support them are part of your healing network, even if you never meet them. It has been through community – specifically via social media – that I found a world-class surgeon and a craniosacral therapist with exactly the skill set I needed. Thanks to dear friends who started arriving at the hospital the minute I was out of the O.R., I was entertained and comforted through the worst of the post-surgical pain. I was also stretched to put aside my attitude of fierce independence and ask for help so many times these last weeks, often for things that seem quite small. I am grateful to all who have been on this journey with me, and will continue to see me through it.

2)    The mind is the most powerful healing tool. As a yogi, meditator and dabbler in various esoteric lineages, I’ve always known this to be true, but last week was powerful evidence of just how much the mind plays a role in healing. I saw my surgeon on a Wednesday, and at that time my bottom eyelid was very close to being back where it should be (it’s been pretty droopy ever since surgery), but still had about 1 mm to go before being fully back in place. Up to that point, the droopiness was resolving itself very slowly, maybe a micro-millimeter over several days. But in the course of that visit with my surgeon, he spoke many times of my full recovery and seeing no issue with getting things back where they used to be. Something about his confidence and assurances really triggered a strong thought in my mind that I was no longer “broken.” Something about this shift, along with an ability to visualize myself fully recovered (which up to that point had been really difficult) kicked my body into high-gear healing, and within 24 hours, my eye had lost all remaining droopiness. The speed at which it happened was surprising, and I thought maybe I was delusional about how I was seeing myself until my husband mentioned it, unprompted.

I see now that being able to visualize my full recovery was an essential tool, and being able to believe in a full recovery was also key. Up until that point, there had always been a doubtful piece of me, which I think arose out of a protective need to not get attached to the vision of myself fully healed, so that I could avoid disappointment just in case I didn’t get there. I realize now that the doubt I felt, as healthy as it might have been at the time, stood in the way of my healing and I am happy I was able to shed it and welcome back my old face.

The journey is far from over, but it’s nice to be at a point where some of its fruits are apparent and where new paths are in sight.

[befreewhereyouare]

An Un-envisioned Gift

No one puts an accident on a vision board.

And yet, when an accident happens, it’s amazing how quickly healing can become one’s single point of focus. As I stared at my vision board for the year 2017 today in my home office, I couldn’t help but imagine how far along various projects would be if I has approached them with the attention and care I’ve given my body and its healing process over the past 16 days.

I’ve created vision boards over the last four years since knowing my husband, who attributes meeting me with helping him to fulfill about half a vision board’s worth of goals. I’ve had a pretty good track record with accomplishing what I lay out in them, no doubt a result of my strong pitta/Type-A/Enneagram #3 personality. The magic of manifesting items from my vision board is always in the noticing of how many things happen by sheer grace, often with zero to minimal effort on my part. In the same way, despite all the supplements, herbs and other remedies I feed my body, the true miracle is in the inexplicable way it knows exactly how to heal itself. I have no doubt put a lot of effort into the healing process, but the real magic happens effortlessly while I sleep and then wake up to notice the progress.

Ultimately, each item on my vision board is intended somehow to enrich my life, either by providing an opportunity for growth, or a chance to step away from life’s mundane to-do lists and laundry piles. We like to think that armed with magazines and scissors (or a journal, or just a daydream), we can identify all the ways the universe might conspire to aid us in our growth. And yet, the universe has its own wisdom, its own plans. A severe accident will provide beyond ample ground for quietude, deep listening and introspection, not unlike the dream trip to Bali and certainly more so than the new car we covet.

Unlike our projects, the measures of success when it comes to healing do not come in the form of a checklist and we can’t hire a coach to expedite the process. Progress is measured by a count of scabs, small increases in the range of motion of a muscle, minutes spent away from bed. There are moments when the healing process seems to plateau, and yet there is an indefatigable knowing that the body is mending itself at the cellular level, as new layers of skin are born and neural pathways are activated.

As I glanced at my vision board today, I felt at peace despite knowing that quite a number of projects and goals will likely be delayed as I carve out space – both in terms of time as well as material resources – for the continued healing that lies ahead. Although it hadn’t been in my plans for the year, I know this experience has (and will continue) to shower me with gifts I could have never envisioned. I trust that the coming weeks will bestow me with insights I can’t even begin to glimpse today.

Make your vision boards and hold your goals close to your heart. But, always remain open to the mystery of life and honor the unexpected missions that appear. Say yes when they arrive and bow to them as your greatest teachers.

[befreewhereyouare]

Remembering Joske Duffield (aka, Grandma)

My grandma wasn’t the grandmother that baked her grandkids cookies. In fact, I don’t recall her ever baking me a thing. Or preparing me a meal that wasn’t from a package or a can.

After deciding to cook professionally, she would tell me (often many times in one day, as her memory began to slip away) that she couldn’t understand why anyone would enjoy cooking for big groups of people. So much work…just to have people eat it all!

While she may have lacked culinary interest, she did love food. I think I may have received whatever genes are responsible for my love of a good Indian meal from her. She also had the biggest sweet tooth. Her freezer was always stocked with ice cream, often multiple flavors. I recall she would have medicinal doses of coffee ice cream each afternoon, which might have been part of how she lived to 93. I think anything that can bring the joy that a sweet treat did for her surely must be good for vitality.

Some of my earliest memories are of time spent at my grandmother’s condo in Denver. I recall a dwarf orange tree that grew under the window of her bedroom that always captivated me as a very young child. Growing up in the suburbs, I hadn’t seen any food actually being grown, and marveled at the small fruits that grew on a bush just my height. I remember vividly the day I snatched one off the tree, bit into it and proceeded into a fit of tears from the sour flavor it unleashed into my mouth. 

The orange tree was just one of my grandmother’s horticultural achievements. She had an amazing green thumb, and I used to relish playing in her garden. One of my favorite activities was to accompany her as she removed the dying blossoms off her many petunia plants. To this day, I always think of her when I smell a petunia.

The decades of her life I was able to witness were perhaps truly her most golden years. Although she was often on her own, she enjoyed many of her favorite things on a daily basis, like coffee, newspapers and hockey games on TV. Long gone were the years of her unhappy childhood, followed by time spent as a prisoner, held captive by the Japanese during World War II and later by rebels fighting for independence in her country of birth, Indonesia.

We all heard many stories of those years, the unbearable torture, the fetid living conditions. In 2012, I was able to visit Surabaya, the city on the island of Java where she lived while imprisoned. Using detailed notes my aunt had put together, I was able to visit the sites where atrocities once occurred, although today there is nothing to indicate the horror of what transpired in this bustling metropolis during the wartime years. 

After being freed, she later went on to marry a U.S. consul, and spent a few decades shuffling to homes across different continents as her family grew to eventually include four children. Perhaps emboldened by her experiences during the war and her capacity to endure great suffering, she eventually left my grandfather and moved her two youngest children from Washington D.C. to Denver, a city she fell in love with, and where she would eventually take her last labored breath of Rocky Mountain air. She would often fondly tell the story of this move many times over the years to come. 

As she grew older, especially after she was diagnosed with emphysema and put on oxygen, she would tell me fewer of her wartime stories, and instead would ask me if I was happy, a question I can’t recall anyone else in my family ever asking me. I think in her own way, she was somehow able to transcend her suffering and find some semblance of peace in living a simple and solitary life.

The last time I saw my grandmother was just over a month ago. On our first day together, I showed up with a decaf caramel frappuccino, after my aunt had tipped me off to how much she loved them. I can still clearly recall the delight on her face, as she slurped up the very last drops of it with her green straw. We then enjoyed a meal with my aunt, uncle and my cousin, a ritual we’ve had for the past few years, anytime I’ve gone to visit. I didn’t know at the time that would be the last one. 

The following day, my aunt had to work so I went solo to my grandmother’s apartment. When I arrived, I knocked and knocked and even called her phone but to no avail. Eventually, one of the workers in the assisted living home saw me and was able to unlock the door so I could enter.

We found my grandmother inside, looking out the large windows that overlooked an Albertson’s parking lot, where she would spend hours watching people coming and going. She didn’t have her hearing aids in, and was truly in her own world. Maria, the woman who had let me in, tenderly walked over to my grandmother to get her attention, and I was really delighted to see my grandmother’s reaction to her. My grandmother wasn’t an overly affectionate type, but she grabbed Maria by the cheeks and beamed a big smile at her.

We spent that day watching the U.S. Open (she always loved tennis) and eating Indian food that I picked up. When our lunch was done, I made her day by serving her a small bowl of strawberry ice cream. Although I rarely consume dairy these days,  it seemed right to share in the experience, and so I polished off a small bowl as well.

I realized after I left that day that it was perhaps the only time in my life I had a one-on-one visit with my grandmother. There was always some other family member around when we were together. I’m grateful that this was how our last visit unfolded.

Although she was certainly frail when I saw her, and it was as difficult as ever for her to breathe, it came as a shock when she was moved to hospice a month after this visit. Just a week before her health took a sharp turn for the worse, she had been with my mother, sister and her 7-month-old granddaughter, Eliora. It turns out that in the course of her last six weeks, she got to see all four of her granddaughters, three of whom live out of state. The way things played out reaffirms my belief that our souls help guide us when it’s time to go. It feels like hers held on for these final visits, and then felt free to go in peace. She died while sleeping on Monday evening.

Our last photo together (Sept 1, 2016)

Having a laugh with my sister and my niece

[befreewhereyouare]

Things I Learned While Lost (Twice) Today

When you take a ferry across a large body of water and land on the other side, the position of the water to the relative to the land is not the same as it was in your previous locale.

When the road splits off on to a smaller road, that might be the one you want to take 

Being lost with monkeys is way more fun than without 

When you stop to ask for directions at a hotel, you might want to pick the one that isn’t at the top of a huge hill.

The reason you purchased your travel data plan for your phone is to use Google Maps in situations like this.

Spraying water on a dirt road is nice because it reduces dust, but it does multiply the downhill slippage factor significantly.

When you stop somewhere to get lemonade and they don’t do to-go orders, offer up your water bottle. You get a cold beverage and a nice cool vessel to rub all over your sweltering body.

After you walk a good ways uphill and then realize you’re lost, you at least get an easy downhill walk back to your starting place.

On that downhill walk, you will feel like an utter weakling because you realize what felt like miles wasn’t that long at all.

When you finally find the place you starting looking for two hours ago, the food tastes even more amazing.

[befreewhereyouare]

Your Mind is Like  a Smoke Alarm

This morning I awoke to prepare breakfast at a retreat center, and was surprised by how many people were up at 6 a.m.  As it turns out, one of the smoke alarms was chirping, giving most people in the house an early wake-up call. 

The alarm became a topic of conversation as retreatants sipped their morning tea and coffee. They were clearly annoyed and disappointed in being robbed of a precious opportunity to sleep in a little before 7 a.m. meditation.

As I listened to the conversations, I had the thought that our minds are a lot like smoke alarms. As humans, we often are consumed by repetitive thoughts, many of which are unproductive and often self-critical, and can become annoyances in our daily lives, slowing us down in our creative processes and self-growth. Yet, many of us keep listening to them, again and again, which is akin to letting a smoke alarm chirp for hours or days upon end.

I think some of it comes down to a belief that our thoughts are out of our control. Meditation, mindfulness practice and self-inquiry teach us there is another way. Being able to identify a thought that doesn’t serve us, and proactively taking steps to quiet it – whether through deep breathing, walking meditation, or other techniques – is like taking the time and effort to change the smoke alarm battery.

Trying to quiet our minds by giving in to cravings, addictions or unconscious habits is like the makeshift solutions we try when the smoke alarm is sounding – jiggling it around, pushing various buttons – which might offer some short-term quietude, but ultimately the noise starts back up. Some of us disconnect the alarm or remove the old batteries to get the sound to stop, but then the alarm doesn’t provide any function. This is likely completely numbing out our mind so that we enter a stupor, unable to tend to our life demands.

When you notice a repetitive thought, let it be a wake up call, a call to action. Find techniques that work, and change the batteries in your mind. If you were to put new batteries in your smoke alarm and it kept chirping, you would assume a battery was bad and try another one. If the same thoughts return, change the battery again, maybe trying another technique that you know has the power to bring you to a calm place.

And just like smoke alarms require maintenance (we’re told to check them every couple months), find routine practices you can do – daily or weekly – that cultivate the same sense of peace in your mind.  In the same way you’re unlikely to ever hear the low-battery signal in your smoke alarm if you’ve changed the batteries regularly, a regular meditation or mindfulness practice helps to eliminate the repetitive thought cycles we get caught up in.

Unlike so many things that are beyond our control – traffic, other people’s reactions and so on, thankfully both smoke alarms and our minds can be tamed with ease. Be grateful the ability to quiet your mind is just a breath away – no ladders needed.  

[befreewhereyouare]

Perseverance, Discernment and Leaky Holes

I dedicated a lot of energy this past weekend getting myself uncoupled from a vendor I had recently contracted to help with part of my business. From my first conversation with the owner of the company, I had some misgivings but the price was right, and hey, I thought…I can make this work.

And I did make it work. And, the process of making it work left me exhausted and exasperated, and along the way I got jerked around by the owner, who changed policies and pricing on me left and right and communicated with me via semi-coherent e-mails and phone conversations.

Today, after finding a couple independent contractors to take over the work I had previously allocated to this other company, I had the realization that one of my greatest assets is my ability to make things work no matter what. I can think back through my whole life and recall the many times I gave it my all to make something broken become functional, from umbrellas to relationships.

In my work as a chef, I often find myself cooking in other peoples’ kitchens. I’m often at the mercy at whatever equipment they have available, so I’ve become quite adept at using lime juicers to press lemons, finding ways to fashion makeshift lids for pots, and I’ve learned along the way that a good potato masher can do just about anything you need it to.

Having the will to persevere through adversity and less than ideal conditions is a skill that has made me resilient and admired. But my realization this week reminds me it also has the power to exhaust me.

In a recent session, my coach asked me how I am making my life work for me. As I reflect upon this question in light of what’s happened these past days, I realize perhaps my challenge of the moment is to put less emphasis on the “making” and opening up more to identifying what is working, and being willing to let go or refine the things that aren’t aligning, rather than persevering and patching together makeshift solutions.

I feel I am being called right now to really hone my faculty of discernment as I evaluate different pieces of life. I am being asked to be honest about what is really working for me, in the sense it is flowing and easeful, versus what I am working to make work, which is effortful and exhausting.

Through it all, the phrase that keeps coming to me is: Perseverance without discernment robs me of energy.

If we push to make something work at all costs, it’s usually out of some ego desire. We look for ways to make dysfunctional things work because we love the feeling of success we get when we push through and refuse to give in. For some of us, we also activate our predispositions to fix or heal. We seek out the broken things so we can occupy ourselves with making them work, often at the expense of our real priorities. 

I recently talked to a prospective client who told me she was on a kick of fixing all the “leaky holes” in her life. I really liked that phrasing, and as I’ve been contemplating my own leaky holes in life, I’m grateful that I have no big gaping holes that threaten to take down the whole ship at the moment. But, I do see many small drips, which taken cumulatively hold power to slow me down. More than anything, these things are all the remnants of some shoddy job I did in the past trying to fill the hole with a less than optimal solution that is perhaps cutting it (and in other cases not), but taking my energy in the process.

As we head into a new year, I’m excited to continue to uncover these holes and find efficient and effective ways to stop them from leaking, once and for all.

[befreewhereyouare]

Continuing...

This blog has taken shape in many forms, from a travel diary, to a photo gallery, to a place to store my innermost reflections. As it continues to evolve, I'm now letting it be the home of writings and inspiration that are not food related...I'll continue my food-related posts over at pranaful.com.

[befreewhereyouare]

Celebrating and Reflecting.

Yesterday marked the three-year anniversary of leaving my job in consulting. It's hard to believe that three whole years have passed since I made what was the biggest and most fear-inducing decision of my life. Today, I arrived at Kripalu in the Berkshire Mountains of Western Massachusetts to take part in a six-day restorative yoga teacher training. If you'd asked me three years ago where I would be today, this is probably the last place that would come to mind. When I made the decision to leave my job, even though I had confidence in my abilities to make a career out of doing what I loved, there was nonetheless a very strong voice accompanying my every move that told me that in no time I would have blown through my savings and would be faced with the grim reality of having to go to my old company and beg for my job back. That part of me could not imagine that I would have the means and freedom to fly cross-country to learn new skills in a beautiful place like this. In the weeks after I quit my job, I would wake up most mornings in a state of pure terror, not knowing where my next month's income would come from. I also struggled with the freedom of not having my day scheduled to the minute with meetings, deadlines and administrative tasks. Coming to make peace with uncertainty is one of my greatest victories of the last three years. I've found a place where I'm not just able to embrace fear but can actually lean into it. I credit Jonathan Fields' amazing book <i>Uncertainty: Turning Fear and Doubt Into Fuel for Brilliance</i> as a key inspiration in getting to where I am today. When I look back on the past three years, many positive things have transpired in the time since I left my job that I could never have predicted in 2011: - I've built a thriving business beyond what I ever thought was possible, and worked with some truly terrific clients - I've found an amazing partner and created a home with him - I spent three months traveling the world at the end of 2012 - I co-led several retreats, including a weeklong adventure to Morocco earlier this year - I ordained in a Zen Buddhist lineage - I teach yoga weekly in South Central to truly grateful students - I've led workshops on mindfulness in settings including Google, UCLA and LA's juvenile hall - I've made progress on a cookbook and am contributing to several other exciting writing projects I feel passionate about - I'm currently completing life coaching training and loving the experience This afternoon, as I sit looking out at a lake surrounded by crimson mountains, I celebrating these achievements and more, reminding myself that life is full of surprises and blessings at every turn. I could have predicted very little of what has transpired these last three years, and I'm reminding myself that life will be full of unforeseen gifts as time moves forward. My life has been living proof that doors do open when you follow your heart's biggest dreams. I am eternally grateful and wish that all of us can move with ease and grace along the paths that make our hearts roar. With love, MK

[befreewhereyouare]

[pranaful]

[befreewhereyouare]

Salon Marocain.

[otherworldbuddha]

Tumblr on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/82533329

[pranaful]

8 Tips to Create a Meditation Practice That Lasts: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/01/8-tips-to-create-a-practice-that-lasts-meredith-klein/

[befreewhereyouare]

My Love Letter to YogaGlo.

[befreewhereyouare]

One Year Later.

Today, 9/11, means many things to many people. While this day holds somber memories for many, for me it is a day to celebrate joy and freedom. I chose to begin a three-month solo trip last year on this day precisely so I could re-pattern the meaning of the day in my own consciousness, and celebrate life on a day that is otherwise associated with death and destruction.

I chose to travel on a whim. I woke up one morning in May 2012, with a burning desire in my heart to be on the road. A soft inner voice whispered in me that it was time to go see the places in the world I had wanted to see but not yet visited, and to return to some of my favorite places on this planet. I listened. Within minutes, I was online researching flight options, and in my quest, I stumbled upon AirTreks, and soon realized that the trip of my dreams was within reach financially.

In the week between my initial inquiry with AirTreks and the call during which I paid for the trip, there were many moments of doubt. Although I was getting a great deal on the flights, I was still making a major purchase, and as someone in my first year of self-employment, I often told myself I was being irresponsible by running off to see the world. Voices in my head encouraged me to stay at home, commit energy to my business, redesign my website, and on and on.

Faced with the urgings of the head vs. heart, I ultimately followed my heart, and one year ago at this time, I was on a plane to Bali to begin what was nothing short of an epic trip of a lifetime. I could go on for hours describing the insights, transformational experiences, and adventures that ensured in my three months on the road, but most are captured in earlier posts in this blog if you're interested. When I think about those moments of doubt, I realize I could have easily succumbed to fear. But then I look at where I am today, and all the joy, learnings and growth that were accelerated by my decision to unroot myself from L.A., and I realize that my heart pointed me exactly where I needed to go.

I can look back at so many times in my life where my head and heart were in direct conflict...e.g., choosing to quit a top-ranked PhD program to start my career as a chef, or leaving a very comfortable corporate job to be self-employed...and I realize that there are zero regrets in situations when I chose the path of the heart. I also look back at times when I gave in to the fear, and let my head steer me in a path that felt utterly misaligned with my purpose, and wish I'd had the strength and fortitude to trust the wisdom of my heart.

I was very touched yesterday to get a note from my friend Sam, who I stayed with in Madrid during my travels. In addition to getting involved with Thich Nhat Hanh's local community after meeting me, he was also inspired to do some traveling of his own this coming fall, including a long stint at a Vipassana center in Burma. In his e-mail, he credited meeting myself, and other travelers who followed their hearts, as the reason for choosing to travel, in a time when everything else in his life seems rather uncertain. Reading his words, I recalled the inspiration I have gathered from watching those around me make choices that were heart-based as opposed to head-based, and I was reminded that choosing the path of the heart is one of the most selfless acts we can partake in. When we choose to walk that path, we inspire those around us to do the same.

I won't get into to the politics or conspiracy theories around 9/11 here, but I will just observe that much of what ensued following the tragic events in 2001 seemed like an effort to instill fear in the American population. We are urged in so many ways to let fear dictate our decisions, so in honor of this day, I encourage you to choose love, not fear...to look deeply at the battles of head vs. heart in your own inner space, and to trust that your heart always knows best. With love, M

Some shots from my travels:

Surabaya, Indonesia:

At the Kali Temple at Dakshineshwar, Kolkata, India

In Rabat, Morocco:

Seeing the pyramids...finally!

[befreewhereyouare]

[francescapatane]

[serialthrill]

Now and then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy