Wendy Karasin – Musings of a Boomer

I’d like to take a moment to thank friends and family who responded to yesterday’s post. Outreach and networking are indeed worth their singular and combined weight in gold. I have found what looks to be an incredibly accomplished group of book editors (thanks to my brother David’s efforts) and I intend to call and interview a few of them to see which are a match (that is when I decide upon the direction this journey is actually taking me in). Some of these experienced individuals also have ties to agents and/or publishers.

It’s good to take a breath or two and not feel as stressed as I did days ago – when I was subtly and perhaps subversively being pushed into a decision I was not ready to make. By slowing the process down, I have the time and wherewithal to do needed research and have further discussions about the field into which I am embarking and to which I am a novice. 

It is more important to me to produce a good product than to produce a quick one, although I must admit the thought of my book being sold on Amazon is pretty seductive. 

I am pulling myself away from the intoxication of immediate gratification and into the less intoxicating arena of hard work. Not that I haven’t already worked hard, I have, but I’m not done. Doing this properly will get me to the same place ultimately – a published book – but quick and thorough are not necessarily equivalent.

I feel strongly (viscerally) that this is the path to follow, and I’m thankful for the hiccup in plans and unhappy day it took to bring me here. Namaste.

I have reached a critical point in the publishing life of my book where I must pull out all the stops. I have been searching for a publisher/self publisher for months, and thought I found one. 

Yesterday afternoon, I dutifully spoke to representatives from Balboa Press (Hay House) and Xlibris (Penguin/Random House) asking (what I considered to be) intelligent and probing questions regarding their publishing specs, marketing, and even their author contract. It never occurred to me, until I did a Google search for complaints and scams, that the owner company of both these presses, Author Solutions, could itself be the problem. During my search I stumbled upon a website intended for authors that specifically mentioned steering clear of all Author Solution companies (Balboa, Xlibris, Trafford Publishing, iUniverse, Author House, etc.) The website went so far as to call them scam and rip off artists, listing numerous complaints and court cases, some going as high as the Attorney General’s office.

It was a sobering afternoon. The rosy colored world the reps report, along with a strong desire to see my book in print, almost snagged me. (Additionally, each offered huge discounts if I signed with their company before the end of August.) So, I got another lesson in not accepting illusion as reality without knowing the facts – which could turn out to be a good looking house of cards. No thanks, been there, done that.

it’s back to the proverbial drawing board but with an added dose of information and skepticism. So, here’s my request: If anyone out there knows anything about, or knows someone who knows anything about Balboa, Xlibris, or the world of publishing/self publishing, please get back to me post haste. I will be eternally grateful for your willingness and knowledge. Thanks in advance for your help.

The summer of 2013 (officially moving toward its conclusion) has been one of my favorites. My daughter was home – something that has not happened since she was 8 and first went to sleep away camp. I have taken wonderful local trips, and this past weekend was a perfect fun and mellow ode to the season.

Nicole and I shopped to get her and her apartment ready for her senior year at college, we did endless laundries and packed her car early Saturday morning so she could begin her trek upstate. Hours later, my sons Jesse and Scott and their girlfriends Courtney and Ashley arrived. My youngest son, Seth, and his girlfriend Jamie were on their way. This already large family is growing and having everyone here feels right. 

We’ve all heard the saying “A son is a son til he takes a wife…” Well, I’m not buying it, I have more faith in my sons and the women they choose to include in their lives than to accept that parable, to say nothing of my faith in our family structure and cohesion. 

I am formulating my own relationships with these young women (and they with each other) all of which is a wonderful, satisfying experience. Saturday evening, they all left to go fishing, and I went to see the movie The Butler. If you have not yet seen it, it is well worth your time. Reliving our presidents and historical legacies was nostalgic, although some of the tragic errors we human beings perpetuated was hard to witness. On the other hand, good people rise to the top (eventually) and do the right thing. Oprah and Forest Whitaker had stunning performances as did so many others in this star studded cast. The movie was personal and thought provoking.

Sunday morning (afternoon?) we had breakfast and hung out in the living room for hours; talking, laughing and reminiscing.  I could not have felt more comfortable, joyous or content. That evening, they all got ready to go to Pete and Nadia”s wedding celebration. As the girls got dressed I shared my opinions on, and offered them my own, bracelets, shoes and accessories. I could feel us getting closer.

Monday, August 26, was Jesse’s 29th birthday, with cards and balloons abounding. This day, spontaneous as it was, was even more fun than the others, as we decided to go out and look for a kitten. Jesse and Courtney were ready to take the plunge. We went to the Wantagh Animal Shelter, but it was our stop at a vet’s office in Massapequa that clinched the deal. A small gray kitten with white paws pulled at our heartstrings. After 30 minutes of on and off indecision, the kitten was placed in a carrier, along with some food and toys, and off it went to its new home with two loving owners to ease the transition. Sometimes, life is perfect!

It’s going on 31/2 years since my mom passed away and almost 4 for my dad. I have concluded that I will forever miss them, but my memories are now tinged less with sadness and more with affection.

When first they passed just 3 months apart, I was leveled. My world crashed, equilibrium lost to devastation. I remember consciously awaiting a sign that they were okay, hopeful that communication with them would not end. Of course communication did end, or at least the kind I was familiar with. However, I did get my signs.

My dad began ringing the chimes that hang from my backdoor patio soon after passing, the same way his fraternal twin sister, my Aunt Laura, did with him. He rang them when I felt overwhelmed, was asking a question, or when I was in need of reassurance. He just rang them now – perhaps as confirmation.

My mother’s sign came only once, but in a big way. My mom was buried on April 4, 2010 – which was Passover and Easter Sunday. She came through in the New York Time’s Sunday crossword puzzle. A copy, framed in gold, hangs outside my home office. She was number 68 across (each number significant because she was 86 when she died). The clue for the 7 letter word was; Open up. The answer was my mother’s name – BLOSSOM.

The meaning of both signs was clear to me. My dad was my protector and he reminds me in weak moments to be strong. My mom was my teacher and she reminds me to open (up) my heart.

It is important not to underestimate what we cannot see, or do not yet, understand.

I have reached a point in my life, when faced with a difficult situation or person, where I ask myself; What would love do? Sometimes I become reactive before asking that question but eventually, with some time and distance, I do return to it. 

Raising 4 children on my own was trying and exquisite. it was trying because there were (many) times I felt uncertain of my own reactions and terrified for the safety and welfare of my children, to say nothing of needing to be in more than one place at the same time. It was (and is) exquisite because it seems that everything we went through, worked to pull us closer still. We talked a lot, slammed doors, screamed at one another, and hugged tightly. I did not do everything right as a parent (the thought itself is close to absurd) nor did they do everything right as kids (this thought is more absurd still), but underneath the fears and the yelling, was the distinct sentiment of caring. I was/am devoted to all of my adult children, (and they to me) and we all knew this somewhere in our beings, even if that was, at times, very deeply buried.

We learned to speak to one another in ways that could be heard, we set boundaries for ourselves and each other and we worked to understand what behaviors did not work to support our family. A powerful desire to make this family cohesive exceeded the obstacles we faced to the contrary. And the good news is, it worked. Even we, at times, are shocked at our success. The statistics were not in our favor. And honestly, I believe that the cheesy, perhaps naive, even preposterous, but true difference, was love.

Whoever said “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” was wrong. I, (a baby boomer so how young could I be?) for the first time in my life, took an anti-gravity yoga class. The young instructor, Eve, told us – by way of hoping to make this alien experience less so – that this class combines yoga, Pilates and a host of other techniques with the use of a large piece of material hanging from the ceiling in the shape of a U, attached by bolts and chains. Just the idea of this class was daunting. 

I was apprehensive and curious. I purchased the opportunity to attend these 5 classes as a Living Social deal, so I wasn’t too concerned. If I hated it I reasoned, I’d take the monetary loss and move on. I was (happily) not the oldest person there nor was I the only first timer.

The young instructor was impressively competent. She was careful to explain and demonstrate every move in advance. She was able to see and monitor our very full class in the mirror, which was the entire front wall of the room. I was surprised at what I was able (and willing) to do, my lack of paralyzing fear about hanging upside down with only my legs around the silks to hold me, and my flexibility and strength. Challenging ourselves is usually, if not always successful, an interesting learning and self awareness exercise. The class participants, who ranged in age from late teens to late 60’s, were adventurous. Nobody followed every move of the instructor, this group respected their bodies and their capabilities, but we did push ourselves beyond our comfort zones. I took the groans, yelps and whoops I heard as clear evidence of this fact. 

I’ve read articles stating that hanging upside down is good for us, and I did enjoy the freedom this position bestowed. When enough blood rushed to my brain, I simply sat up. This is one of the aspects of yoga I love, the concept of honoring yourself and your body. You work toward a pose with  the understanding that each class, and each day, is different. 

The last 10 minutes of class was sublime. We lay flat, held horizontally in place by strong fabric, mid-air. If I had ever experienced being cocooned, this is how I would imagine it feeling. The material surrounded me tightly, supporting my entire body from head to toe. I felt safe and peaceful as we began the meditative part of class, which would correspond to resting on one’s mat in mountain pose in  a more traditional setting.

Eve walked around the room, massaging the temples and forehead of every horizontally resting, closed eyed, student with a lemon scented essential oil. Anti-gravity yoga, (should it interest you) is worth incorporating in your workout routine because it calls upon not only the strength of your body, but a mental/emotional capacity to conquer fears as well. 

Yesterday’s weekly yoga class was different than usual, in that many are on vacation in mid August, and so the class had fewer attendees. Instead of this being a source of upset or dismay, the instructor, Mariko, took the opportunity to utilize the intimate environment to do something that works better with a smaller class. 

She began by explaining what pranayama means – prana is energy or life force, and yama is control. The word is not new to me, I’ve known it for decades as a particular type of breath work I used with Transcendental Meditation. The concept is significantly larger than I understood it to be.

The beginning of class we spent time, eyes closed, just breathing. We practiced ujjayi breath, sometimes called “ocean breath” because the exhale is long and loud and sounds (somewhat) like the ocean. It is done through the nostrils only, but if you had an open mouth, it is the kind of breathing that would fog up a mirror. Our exhales lasted a count or two beyond our inhales. If you try this for a few minutes, you will notice a change in your state of mind. Mariko asked us how we felt – tired, nauseous, calm. I felt very calm, and serene, and clear. Breath work is used in martial arts to energize and invigorate a move, and breath work in yoga can be used to assist in holding a pose longer than you thought you could, or to slow your body down after the session ended and rest.

It can be used outside of the yoga studio when a traffic jam, or a child, or your boss is causing you stress. Just sit quietly (or go to the nearest bathroom stall) and begin putting your energies on your breathing. For reasons not entirely clear to me (distraction?) this usually works. 

I will admit, under huge duress, I have tried this and it didn’t work. Or to be fair, it may have worked but my stress levels were ratcheted so high, I didn’t get the effect I was looking for.

As we sat quietly, learning and re-learning this type of breathing, I thought this would be a wonderful gift for everyone – because in the end, it is a natural coping technique for handling the stress and anxiety of life in the modern world, Who, in their right mind, wouldn’t want that?