new blog

My life is, once again, in a groundless state. I'm listening to Anais Mitchell and drinking a lot of tea. I'm starting a new blog, jenniehyatt.blogspot.com check me out.

Your Fonder Heart (Anais Mitchell)
come out, come on, come outside
don’t you hide your handsome face from me
I want to see you half-lit in the half-light
laughing with the whites of your dark eyes
shining
darkly

way over yonder I’m waiting and wondering
wither your fonder heart lies

come out, the streets are breathing
heaving green to red to green
come with your nicotine and wine
tambourine keeping time
come and find me in the evening

way over yonder I’m waiting and wondering
wither your fonder heart lies
way over yonder I’m waiting and wondering
whether your fonder heart lies

come out, come inspired
you will not come to harm
if I cannot take you for a liar or a lover
I’ll take you for my brother in arms

way over yonder I’m waiting and wondering
wither you fonder heart lies
way over yonder I’m waiting and wondering
whether your fonder heart lies

Home from Retreat

I'm home from retreat. I'm back. My body is back, my mind is still in swirly wanderland.

I really like being on retreat. I like meditating, I like ringing the big gong, I like staying up late giggling with my coworkers. I like having meals made for me, and the food was mostly great. A few too many hardboiled eggs for protein, and I'm clearly more addicted to kombucha to keep me ungassy, but well, so it goes.

Meditation retreat is such a precious gift. I can't believe I have a job where I get to go on retreat for a week once a year. A gift! It is so incredible seeing the students at the end of a 3 year graduate training program that is so much more than just training to work with others. Getting to see and hear students speaking their truth in so many ways was amazing, powerful, and inspiring.

There was a lot of pain this week--my knees are unhappy, my back is tight, my heart is aching. And I just want to be held. And right now I am alone. My best girl dol in her amazing thoughtfulness invited my roomie, Mr. Guy, over to play tonight, so they could hang out, and I could have some decompression time. I considered going over there to hang, but I'm not ready for lots of people yet. I'm unpacking, I'm decompressing, I'm reflecting and trying not to process too much.

When I got back to cell phone range, I found many messages from friends--I will call you tomorrow, as I'm not quite ready to make calls.

Sincerely yours,

The Outrageous Buddha Buzzard

countdown to crazytown

I'm approaching the final countdown to my departure for a week of retreat. This week I've been doing an excellent job of being really, really neurotic. There has been a whole week of pre-travel freakout going on. For other hilarious tales of pre-travel freakout, see related blogs.

It seems that when I travel, I return to my roots. I return to the my early socialization, the messages I received from early, early on: the world is a scary and dangerous place, and you better watch out because you never know when a TV might explode. The way this paranoia manifests in me is wanting to make sure everything is in order before I leave "just in case I don't come back". You know, in case I leave this mortal coil while traveling.

There's really no reason to think that going away for a weekend or a week is any more dangerous than my daily commute to work, and yet I have made lists and lists of things I want to do before I go: cleaning, purchasing things that I maybe might need (like batteries for that 3rd flashlight), ensuring I have twelve kinds of snacks (for a 2 hour drive), can I pay all the bills and mail all the things I need to mail, and get to my safe deposit box and take those clothes to the salvation army and plan the garden I'm going to dig, and make all those calls I want to make, and write my will and write love letters and write the story of my life all before I go away for a week?

And tonight I was able to let go for a few hours and read a book while I ate dinner, and kept on reading after I finished dinner. And ok, maybe I got obsessive and finished the book I was reading so that it would be one more thing I finished "just in case". Tonight I created an "in case of emergency" contact list. I don't expect that anything will happen to me ever, but well, better to have a short list of the important people in my life that don't necessarily have each others' contact information. I'm not distributing the list widely, because, really I don't need to freak out a lot of people by sending them my crazytown list for no really good reason.

And if something terrible were to befall me, I'm putting this out there for the world to know: I'm an organ donor, and I don't want to be in any prolonged vegetative state. Give away my useful bits & pieces (guts, etc) to others who might find them useful, and let me go. Don't bury me in a metal box--a plain old wood thing, preferably sustainably harvested. At this time, I don't have all the documents I keep promising Dad I'll get together...I really will someday soon do those more official "just in case" documents. In the meantime, this will have to do.

Sorry for being all melodramatic and nutty, but, well, you all know me, and this is what I do. It is my pre-travel freakout, countdown to crazytown (or maybe I'm already in crazytown!)

hard week

This has been a difficult week in lots of dimensions, personally and professionally. I had a hard time adjusting to springing forward an hour with the end (or is it beginning) of daylight savings time. My sleep cycle has been off this week, leaving me really tired. Both work and personal life have been very roller-coastery this week; a lot of ups and downs. I'm left today feeling "what am I doing with my life?!" I want to be of benefit to others, and yet I'm having a hard time seeing how I'm doing that in my job these days. There were some good things in my job this week, including some meetings that I thought would be depressing turning out to be good, but after several unexpected depressing (to me) meetings, I'm left feeling confused. I want to be happy, and I want people in my life to be happy. Yet I find that significant people in my life aren't feeling good, and I'm feeling pretty helpless. I have multiple people in my life that I haven't found time to call back and I'm really sad that I keep doing this.

Blah.

On another note, I've done a great job of spending less than my weekly budget this week, so I'm proud of me for that :) Those extra pennies are being saved up for things I want to do...including travel and therapy! :)

Mistakes

This week was a week of making a lot of mistakes, and hopefully learning from them. Mistakes can come in many different ways, from forgetting to sign a form that will impact someone's pay to hurting a friend to drinking too much juice in too short a period of time. Each mistake has its consequence. 

It is said that "time heals all wound". Perhaps this is true. For the mistakes I made this week I hope that not too much time will pass for each of the wounds to heal. For each of the mistakes I made this week, I am able to look back and say "I should have known better; I could have prevented this outcome" and that is true. What is also true is that I have my blind spots, I am human, and I am not perfect. I hope that those people that I impact will forgive me, an I'm working to forgive myself. I also hope that I am able to remember the things I learned this week. 

angry rant

I am angry and I am sad. If you don't want to read an angry rant, just move on.

This morning I got a call from some people who saw the ad for my house to rent, and are interested in renting. When I spoke with the guy, he said it would be three men renting the house. We scheduled a time for later in the day to meet there so they could see it. I already had another family coming later in the day, so it felt good to get so much interest all at once. 

After I got off the phone, I started thinking. I thought about my house, how it is in a rural community where the houses aren't close together. I thought about how my body is perceived as small and weak, and that makes me vulnerable. I was thinking about what I should wear--baggy jeans and my baggy, thick hand-me-up sweatshirt were on the list. I thought about calling my neighbors to let them know I'd be at the house. How I was already planning out which pocket I'll have my whistle in, and which pocket my phone will be in. That I hadn't thought about any of this when I was going up to meet a family (husband, wife, and two young girls) popped into my mind. I thought that if I was a man, I wouldn't have to think about any of this, and I am angry. 

I am angry that I do have to think about these things. I am angry that I have friends that have been sexually assaulted. I am angry that I have to put on my extra-tough masks when I'm going to meet 3 men that I don't know. 

I am angry that my physical appearance puts me at risk. The fact is, I am strong, and a lot stronger than many people would guess. I am physically stronger than many women I know. I lived on a farm for a bunch of years, and now I go to the gym to maintain the strength that I hadn't even realized I gained. And even so, I am still a small woman, and so I am vulnerable. 

I am angry that in order to feel less vulnerable, I put on baggy clothes to hide my curves, I build up myself image and show off by talking about carrying hay bales and other physical feats. I keep everyone at a distance. 

I am angry that I get ignored and I don't get respect because of my small, female body. There is an angry, strong, beautiful, smart woman in this body who doesn't like being ignored. An angry woman who is fed up with all misogyny. 

Feminism ain't about equality; it's about reprieve. 

abundance and claustrophobia

I've been bouncing back and forth lately between abundance and claustrophobia. Having a lot of something can be wonderful, but if it crosses over into too much, I get all claustrophobic and tight. I think this is caused by feeling like I don't have enough time. I have lists of things that I want to do and need to do, and not enough time to do those things.

This weekend I had a list of people I wanted to call (friends and family), and I did talk to my parents, but that was it. No calls to my sibs or grandparents, not to my Paulie, Fern & Jeff, Jess, Brooks & Lisa or Jess or my EmilyG. I had a 15+ hour workday on Sunday...traveled up to Shambhala Mountain Center. It was nice to see students and staff. It was nice to have some space to talk to those people who matter to me, but I didn't get to talk to the people who matter most.

I had a mini-pretravel freakout on Sunday morning...frantically cleaning the kitchen, taking out half-full trash, running to the grocery to buy too many beverages and snacks for the road (a kombucha and a smoothie and a water bottle and two granola bars and wasabi peas?!), stopping at my office to grab office supplies, and all that before 9am on Sunday.

The line between abundance and claustrophobia is one I walk a lot. Having a lot to do, having too much to do and getting stuck because there are too many things and not enough time. Feeling paralyzed when there is too much. I've since gotten unstuck, but that stuck, claustrophobic feeling is so difficult.

A new old name

Hello, my name is Jennie Hyatt.

I learned this week that I am divorced. This is not a time of celebration, but a continuing in the process of mourning the end of my marriage. I love Michael. He is and was my friend. There were many aspects of our relationship that I appreciate. He is a kind and generous man, and he did his best to be a good husband and partner. I am very sad.

My name has legally returned to my maiden name, and it is strange. I haven't been Jennie Hyatt for seven and half years. I was Jennie Hyatt from the time I was born until I was 23. I remember who Jennie Hyatt was. I know who Jennie Sanchez was. I'm not sure who Jennie Hyatt now is.

Names are such strangely, important things. All this ego and identity attachment around a few syllables.

Jennie Hyatt is a woman who is divorced. Jennie Hyatt is a woman who remembers being asked if she was related to the hotel. She wasn't and she isn't, by the way. Jennie Hyatt is a woman who knits, slowly. Jennie Hyatt is a woman who loves cooking for herself, and really loves cooking for others. Jennie Hyatt loves listening to Ani DiFranco. Jennie Hyatt is a woman who doesn't have a plan for the future. She used to be a girl with big plans and a lot of ambition.

Jennie Hyatt is a woman who needs to practice saying her own name because she isn't used to it.

Jennie Hyatt is...me.

i am not a fan of rollercoasters

i am not a fan of roller-coasters. I've never liked them, even as a kid. I think since I was a small child, I wasn't tall enough to ride them. I don't really remember. As a teen and adult, when I've tried them, it seems they are not built for my body, or my body is not built for them.

Once at disneyland a few years ago (i really did like going there when i lived in SoCal) Michael and I went on some snowy mountain-theme one. The "lap" strap hit me across my stomach and not my lap, so every time the thing jerked, the seatbelt hit my diaphragm and forced the air out. It was probably only a 2-minute ride, but gasping for air for that long is really not much fun. I did try to fix the belt, but couldn't undo it or force it lower.

Most other times I've been on roller-coasters, I walk away with big headaches. I think they mess with my inner ears. I dunno. Me and roller-coasters, we don't get along.

So why roller-coasters? Because I feel like I've been riding one lately. Up, down, up, down, sometimes a loop gets thrown in there. This emotional roller-coaster is really not much fun. It is leaving me exhausted. Yesterday is a prime example: llama shearing in the morning went better than expected, went to work and had a long talk with my boss about some stuff going on that left me feeling really sad, came home and had an awesome, incredible evening of food and games with friends, after the friends left, talked to my roommate about the stuff I talked to my boss about and felt sad, sad, sad. I have no gaps these days...my time is filled up so much that I ride the roller-coaster and I'm only half-feeling it sometimes. I want to be able to feel it all fully, to experience it all fully. I need to have more space between things, particularly between the things that I know have big emotions attached. I need to pull the break and slow down.

It is 9:30pm, and I'm going to start getting ready for bed. Step #1 in slowing down is getting more sleep and going to bed at a reasonable time at least one night this week!

aunt purl is funnier than yellow me

If you want to laugh out loud, read today's Crazy Aunt Purl blog. She cracks me up. http://crazyauntpurl.com/

my adventures today can't compare to Purl.

I went to the indian market today just to get some chickpea flour (besan) and ended up leaving with besan PLUS samosas, mint chutney, a giant jar of mixed pickle, and soan papdi. I'm not planning to make indian food anytime soon...or at least, i wasn't. maybe now i will. maybe that will be the next game night dinner... we'll see. OOOH. then I can make cheese. :) YAY.

Tonight I made salsa for tomorrow. And I'm having an at-home all-natural 'spa' pamper time. I made a face mask with turmeric and besan, and then put on a layer of yogurt mixed with honey. I really don't know if this worked, but well, can't hurt, right. at least i'm not still yellow. I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of myself covered in deep yellow goo. Maybe next time...

i need to eat a snack, and i need to go to bed.

read aunt purl. she's much funnier than I am today. she really, really is. i'm serious. go read her now.

car accident

I got into a car accident this morning. I'm FINE (physically) but still shaking (internally and externally). I was at a stop light with one car in front of me. Just sitting there. Stopped. And then my foot slipped, and the car rolled, and I bumped the car in front before I could hit the break again.

The light turned green, we drove to a place to pull over, and I got out of the car nervous and embarrased. His car had no damage. My car has a small indent in the front license plate. Once it was clear there was no damage, I got yelled at for a long time. It started with "How long have you been driving? How could you run into me at a stop light? What were you thinking? You're lucky there's no damage to my car." I apologized profusely. It was an accident, my foot slipped off the break, I tried to explain. He didn't seem to hear me. He thought that I was driving and didn't stop in time. I tried again to explain that I was stopped behind him for a while when my foot slipped. He went on to tell me how luck I was to have been behind him..."what if there wasn't a car in front and I didn't stop in time as I was approaching the light and hit someone pushing a stroller, or hit a child!" Of course, you're right. But, I was stopped, my foot slipped. It was an accident. I didn't do any of this on purpose. "You've ruined my day" he said. "What were you thinking? How hard is it to stop at a stop light?" I kept trying to apologize. I offered to exchange information if he thought it would be helpful, if he thought that there might be some damage. He told me I was lucky the trailer ball wasn't on the hitch, that he was on his way to go pick it up, and if it had been on, I really would have damaged my car. Yes, of course, I told him. I am so sorry. I started to cry and told him that my husband and I were ... and cried. Somehow my vulnerability stopped him. He said that I should be more careful and then, "listen, lady, maybe you should calm down before you get back in the car." He said that there was no damage, and he'd be on his way.

I'm totally rattled. I've been crying on and off all morning. I get to the point of tears, have a few sobs, and then shut it all down. Touch and go. Go and go. I can't go there, I can't stay tapped into that pain. I need to keep it together, I've got work to do today.

If you see me later, hugs will be appreciated.

head vs. heart

Oh, the glorious battle continues! Why is it that there has to be a battle of head vs. heart? They often want the same thing, right? I suppose the problem is when things get so out of balance.

Example #1, tonight I was being interviewed to become a member of the board of directors for a small independent high school in town. One of the questions was, "how and why did you change from teaching physics to working at Naropa?" I gave the logistical answer...I moved from california to boulder and found Naropa's website. But then I gave the answer that holds the core truth: I loved science, but I hated the culture of working in science. When I was in that world, I was all in my head. At my job at Naropa, I've found a balance between head and heart.

Example # 2: Today, I had an all-day retreat for a committee of all the people in the university who have the same job I do (administrative head for academic department). We had an in-service "training" for most of the retreat, and the main topic was contemplative administration. When the facilitator asked the group to talk about what their inspiration is for working at Naropa, I spoke about being able to bring all of myself to my work...that I need to be fully integrated in every part of my life, and working at Naropa allows me to be a real human being with emotions and thoughts, talents and weaknesses. I left science because I couldn't keep living only in my head. I couldn't keep living a disassociated existence. I couldn't keep trying to assimilate in a world that doesn't value heart or emotion or weakness.

I'm on a path of working every day to keep head and heart in balance. My mind races, and it jumps ahead to look at many different options, many possible parallel universes all created by making different choices. I notice my thoughts and impulses, consider how I feel about the thoughts and impulses, and make choices about whether or not to act on those thoughts and impulses. Sometimes I make good choices, sometimes not. The noticing is important. The space to consider and to feel how I really feel before I act is important.

trying not to be extraordinary dragon bait

just trying to be a regular girl
everyone around me sees something I don't
or sees something I want to deny
I don't want to be extraordinary
I just want to be like everyone else
I don't have superpowers, though I'd like to
I'm no hero, though I try to be every day
I don't kill vampires in dark alleyways
but I answer questions that come my way
my power is my knowledge
and my willingness to be human
that isn't so special.
I don't have pyramid power;
I'm no princess, I'm not dragon bait.
I'm still failing miserably at being normal,
I blush when they notice, I blush when they introduce me
as someone special
and I wish I could see what they see.
I'm just trying to be a normal girl, but maybe I don't know what that means.
Along the way I've forgotten myself and found myself and forgotten again.
I used to be so old...the 80 year old little girl.
Now I feel like a goofy teenager, giggling late into the night with my best girl.
Watching my impulses...recognize and relax...easier said than done!
Picking up the phone, hanging up the phone, picking it up, hanging it up
finally making the call when the timing is awkward, when I hope he doesn't pick up, but I hope he picks up. He picks up and a friend yells "jennie!" in the background.
how do I talk to my baby brother about what is going on
he's not a baby anymore, but a college graduate
I feel like a failure when I was supposed to be the one
setting the good example
acting like the shining star with the superstar trajectory
Maybe I am setting a good example
teaching him now as I did long ago
the lessons now are lessons of
how to be true to yourself, even when things are painful
instead of dictionary words and math flash cards and nintendo
he wants to move to LA to look for work
at least he'll be near my sisters
don't give up, don't settle for work that you aren't passionate about
don't settle for a life that isn't true to you.
Maybe this is what they see in me
the stubborn, unwillingness to fake my way through
my inability to be half-assed
my magic-loving, knowledge-seeking, playful, serious, human
me.

dead alpaca baby (dont read if you're squeamish)

Last night I stayed at the house in Longmont.

7am we went out to feed the animals together and discovered Maya was in labor over a month early. The amniotic sack was out, but hadn't ruptured. In a panick, I called the vet and our neighbor, Lynley. She said to rip open the sack and go in to try to deliver the baby...to try to save the baby.

I opened that fluid sack and went in up to my elbow. I could feel body parts and wasn't really sure what the hell I was touching. I could make out a knee and what I thought was the neck, but I couldn't get far enough in her to find the head. The baby wasn't moving. It was so warm inside her womb, but that baby didn't move at all. I was afraid. I was so afraid of hurting the baby, of hurting maya, of doing something to make the whole situation worse and afraid to do nothing and to make the whole situation worse. Our vet called back and said not to do anything more. Our neighbor called and said go back in there and see what you can feel...is the baby moving? No, the baby hadn't moved. I knew that baby wasn't alive. The part that I thought was a neck was long and curved and went back so far. It was so warm in there. So comforting and so frightening. What if I do the wrong thing and tear her uterus and then she bleeds to death. We'd lose Maya and the baby.

Lynley came over and checked maya too. She thought it was a breech birth. If it is a breech, she said, the baby could be fine. Michael and Lynley kept walking Maya around talking to her, telling her not to push. I stayed with her 6 year old daughter, Sierra, answering questions about what a placenta is, what a breech birth means, and why it is bad. Telling Sierra, that the baby might already be dead. How alpaca births and human births are not very different.

Our vet finally arrived. We walked Maya out of the corral and into the grassy back yard...it would be cleaner on the grass if he needed to do a c-section. He went in and felt the baby. It wasn't a breech. He described feeling the knee and the neck, just as I had felt it. He manipulated the baby for what felt like a long time and finally brought the head out. He checked to see if it was alive. It was not. He delivered the baby, and maya's vagina tore a little as the baby came out. Once the baby was out we checked. It was a boy. The umbilical cord had ruptured in utero. He was beautiful and he was dead. He was premature, but not so premature that he couldn't have survived if only he had been born alive.

We let Maya sniff her baby for a few minutes while Sierra and I hugged each other and cried. Eventually, our vet gave maya some anitbiotics and some oxytocin to stimulate the release of the placenta. I took Sierra over to the gate to look at the animals while the others bagged up the baby's body. at 8am, Lynley and Sierra left to get ready for school.

We talked to our vet for a little bit. His best guess was that somehow the umbilical cord got severed, probably happened when the baby was shifting into position. The umbilical cord severed, the baby died, and that triggered Maya to go into labor.

I'm usually so happy to see our vet. I usually call him our "hunky vet"...not many men look that good in overalls. But today I'm just sad. Sad to have had to call him, sad to see him, sad for maya, sad for michael, sad for sierra, sad for the dead baby, and sad for myself.

After our vet left, Michael went to the farm store to get a bottle of penicillin. I stayed outside to watch Maya and wait for the placenta to drop. At 10:00, she was still trying to get it out, so we gave her another shot of oxytocin. The placenta dropped at 10:15, and we burried it out in the north pasture. One more hole, one more burrial, one more ending.

We're walking around like zombies. We're awake and asleep. Trying to function and not doing it very well. We took the two almost 1-year old babies to another ranch after we were sure Maya was ok. Those two babies are going to an alpaca show in Denver this weekend, and the people at the other ranch are taking them down there for us. We told them we're leaving this business, and that if anyone is interested in either of our animals to make sure to say that they're for sale. You can't have a livestock business when you get so attached, I said. You need to have a level of detachment to think of the alpacas as "just livestock" not to love them and mourn them. You can't run a business when you sell off animals like they don't have feelings and they don't care. They clearly have feelings. They do care. They show their emotions and can be sad and worried and scared and happy and joyful. They play, they fight, they love each other and they hate each other. How can you buy and sell beings who aren't so different from you?

I'm a zombie and I don't know what to do. I need to go to work, but I don't know what I'll do there. I don't know what I'll do if I stay here either. Writing the story helps me. I'm not sure I want to talk about this just yet. I am pretty numb right now, but writing this has helped.