Happy Happy. Joy Joy.

MPJ is hosting a group writing project, inspired by my first one held earlier this month, and so I must participate. Besides, it's a nice topic: write about your happy place.

Two years ago my happy places had many of the same elements: libations that either contained grapes and alcohol or java and caffeine. It probably meant dropping a nice chunk of change. Consuming and wasting, eating and drinking without cares, without worries, without responsibility.

That was then.

My happy place is much different now, and I don't feel it often anymore. Not since becoming a mother.

Please don't misconstrue my words: I am happy much of the time, but always with a heaviness of stress or anxiety or worries or doubts.

Motherhood has been very hard for me; harder than I thought it would be. And, so my happy place is a feeling; I associate it with feeling no pain, no worries, no hardship, no struggling, no setbacks, no heartbreak.

Just bliss, fleeting as that moment may be. In fact, it lasts only seconds, at least when I've experienced it.

I'm sure I experienced it before being a mom, but I didn't know then to relish it like I do now.

The last time I felt this bliss was about a month ago. My in-laws invited us over for dinner. They live only 10 minutes away, but we do not see them more than once a month. The time of day was perfect for our schedule so there was no rushing around, and unlike most of our family events, it was just us. No other relatives to vie for the last piece of bread.

There was a ton of great, home-cooked food and plenty of it. There was wine -- and coffee -- and iced cold water in between. There was lovely cinnamon bread, and dessert. There was someone to bring me my food, someone to clean the dishes afterward and adult conversation in between. I still had to lean down to pick up food that had been dropped; but it wasn't dropped on purpose like it usually is at home.

The dinner was wonderful and toward the end, as my belly felt full and my tension relaxed, I felt a moment of bliss.

I felt, for one of the very few times since becoming a mom, truly nurtured and taken care of. That dinner, in all of its forms, took so many of my worries away. Nothing else mattered, but us. The house that needed cleaned, the now dusty-looking for sale sign sitting unmoved, the cluttered counters, the insurmountable piles of clutter in the storage room ... it was all sent out in one big breath to the universe.

So, that's my happy place. It can happen when I least expect it, though it is extremely rare. It can happen anywhere, and most of the time I don't know it will happen until I'm in the moment, and suddenly catch myself smiling for no reason, for every reason.

Sure, the euphoric state of bliss is fleeting.

I'm fine with that as long as it returns to me again and again.

Zen is calling. Is anyone home?

A wise woman once said on this blog that, "YOU make the house great with your happiness. But either way, your next house finds you, not the other way around. "Let the future come to you."

I absorbed those words, partly because Buddhism is speaking to me. It has been for a long time now. Nineteen months, to be exact.

I am far from being Buddhist. But, I'm closer to that than I am of being anything else.

So, trying to live in the moment, trying to find zen in everyday life, I can't help but come back to those words she wrote when I posed the question house vs. location.

In a perfect world, financial situations would allow location over house. But, for many people, that is not possible. We are sitting on the fence with a house that isn't sold, but a longing for a house that is just tippy-toe out of our reach. We know we can afford it, but part of our move is to help offset costs related to our decision to live on one income.

So, I'm left with a lump in my throat, and knot in my stomach thinking that the near-perfect house, which I've already labeled the House of Zen because it is simply simple, just might escape us.

I'm returning to Maezen's words over and over.

My Mom says things work out for a reason. I'm not sure about that. Things work out, but not necessarily for a reason. They just end. And, it's up to us to find the positive in such situations.

That just might be what happens.

Awake parents: If you do nothing else today, go to Karen's site and watch her video.

This is a story about poop

Instead of publicly thanking MamaBlogga for honoring me with a Rockin' Girl Blogger Award -- my very first blogging award -- and then bestowing the title on other rockin' girl bloggers, I'm going to write about Zen.

Zen for me was starting this day knowing that finally, finally, finally the girls would be moved into their bigger room, the same room we had been preserving for guests -- like grandmothers -- to spend nights upon nights in order to be with their granddaughters as much as possible. Since that isn't happening, we decided to give that precious room to Jadyn and Liana.

Zen for me was knowing that instead of being crammed into their quaint little nursery-sized room any longer, we would all comfortably sit on the floor to read books, giggle and dance before bed and first thing each morning. After all, some of the best moments in motherhood are at the start and end of the day.

Zen for me was realizing how hard we have worked this last week in both painting the dining room and then the new girls' room. It was a ton of work, but all really worth it -- even if Da! and I didn't have much of a relaxing vacation. We were productive, and productive has its merits, too.

Zen for me was sitting back, cross legged on the floor, and staring up at my sweet, freshly bathed girls in their cribs, now next to each other like true twins. They practiced flopping back on their crib mattresses, as if they were as new as the room. They practiced touching hands through the crib slats, and then giggled.

Zen for me was sitting on my bed, close to the monitor, sorting through mounds of recipes to figure out what to buy at the store -- while listening closely to each sound they made during their first few minutes alone, at bedtime, in their new room. All was quiet; I was proud. Those books I gave them before parting ways must have been all they needed. I couldn't believe how adapted they became to the new room so easily. What great baby girls they are!

Zen for me was writing down every essential grocery item needed for the next two weeks, including two meals for families who have welcomed new babies recently. I love thinking of ways to help new mothers of twins; I so needed all the help I could get in that first year. Chocolate chip cookies were among those favorites of mine.

Zen became a bit scattered in the next few minutes, though. Liana screamed. I mean, screamed, like a boogie man jumped out of the closet or like her leg was cut off by the air conditioner. I ran in to see what was the matter.

There, I found her sitting comfortably, smiling by this point. Her fingers were covered in black goo. As I try to move her out the mess, which was scattered about on her mattress, I searched around and around the new room for what she could have gotten a hold of that would be so black, so sticky -- all the while I'm gathering it up, blotting the big piece with the little shards, like Play-doh. Then, it hits me ... the smell, perhaps, the feeling of it, the color ... it was poop. She had been playing with shit.

But, wait, where did this Shit come from? Wait. Jadyn had been the one to seem like she needed to poop right before bed. Jadyn was the one.

Zen, for me, is realizing that my almost 18-month-old twin daughters just spent the last 10 minutes of their lives learning to share for the very first time by passing turds back and forth between their cribs.

Zen hit me again, while they were soaking in their second bath for the night, when I realized that playing with poop is a lot like playing with Play-doh, only they try to eat Play-doh.

Oh, goodness ...

MOMMA ZEN: An author interview, and giveaway

I'm proud to announce that this is my first author interview on LTMD. Honestly, I hadn't really been planning to do any, but I found author Karen Maezen Miller's new blog, Cheerio Road, about a month ago and knew it was perfect. About 10 months into my motherhood job, I read her book, "Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood." I had already read a similar book and knew it was something I had to have the second I saw a mention of it in a magazine.

Karen is a Zen Buddhist priest, a wife and a mother of Georgia, who was born in 1999.

In addition to answering my questions about being a mother, being a writer, and being Buddhist, she is kind enough to giveaway five copies of her book. Learn more below about how to enter the random drawing at the close of the interview.

Without further ado, here's the Q&A. Thanks, Karen!

LTMD: First, I loved "Momma Zen: Walking the Crooked Path of Motherhood." It came to me at a time I needed it most; when my young twins were overwhelming me each day. Can you provide how your book came to be for blog readers?

KMM: I have been a writer all of my professional life, but always as a PR person or ghostwriter. Momma Zen was the first thing I ever wrote in my own name. When my daughter turned two, shortly after my mother died, I felt ripe with words. I got a laptop and went away for the weekend. It was a very rare and predetermined act. I drove up to a small inn overlooking Big Bear Lake here in Southern California, and I started to write recollections of my pregnancy and early days of motherhood. It was as though a voice--perhaps my mother's voice --had arrived to provide me clarity and encouragement. I was writing to myself. I naively thought I could finish in two days! (It ultimately took two years.) As I kept writing, I showed chapters to my husband and he said, "Karen, this is Zen." Although I had practiced Zen meditation for 10 years, I had been reluctant to write anything at all about my Buddhist practice. I felt I had no authority to teach, and I still don't. But my husband had perceived what I had not. I was still viewing my spiritual life as separate from my life as a mother. I saw them as two things and often, in conflict. But the words I had written proved otherwise: life as a mother is a spiritual practice. And so it is for us all, whether we know it or not and no matter what beliefs we have. My point in writing was to encourage other mothers to realize the wisdom they already have.

LTMD: To prepare these questions, I wanted to go back and re-read some pages in your book. The first page makes reference to the overuse and misuse of the word Zen, which I know I used in one of our first e-mail exchanges. I was worried that I used it improperly.

KMM: I hope you didn't worry too much! Worrying about it really would be a waste of your precious life. Zen literally means meditation. Meditation means attention. Not some special kind of attention, but the attention you already have. Most of the time we waste our attention thinking about what doesn't exist: our worries, fears, anxieties, and all those "what-ifs." In fact, we think that's what parenthood is all about: engineering the best possible outcome. In meditation we learn to pay attention, or awaken, to what is right in front of us. In Zen, we even meditate with our eyes partly open. We pay attention to the here and now. When we pay attention to what is here, it always has the most beneficial impact on the future. Our children are always right here and now. In our hearts, we already know that to be present with our children right now is the best way to nurture the future. It's the only thing we can give them!

LTMD: You state in your book's introduction, you state that "zen is motherhood." Please explain.

KMM: Zen is paying attention to your life as it really is, so however your life really is, is Zen. Zen is motherhood, Zen is fatherhood, Zen is childhood, Zen is sleeping, Zen is laughing, Zen is eating, Zen is tired, Zen is crying, Zen is confused. Zen is even angry! Zen is you, just as you are. Zen is not some manufactured state, some better way to be. It means dropping the self-criticism, opinions and judgments and just being yourself. (By the way, most of our judgments are about not being good enough, so just dropping those is a big improvement.)

LTMD: I have found that blogging has truly helped me find beauty in the everyday lifestyle of mothering and being a wife. As each moment passes, I am forced to stop and think about it, and think, this would be a great blog post. Do you experience the same mindfulness when it comes to your new blog, Cheerio Road?

KMM: Absolutely. Before, I always seemed to be waiting for somebody else to ask me to write something. My writing became something special that happened only under certain circumstances. I would weigh and value it, even before I got started, thinking to myself, "This is an essay, this is an article, this is a chapter, this is the next book!" The blog is my commitment to writing for its own sake. Freed from any expectation, I see that my life is full of writing opportunities! It is overflowing with lessons, insights and encouraging signs. So I try to keep it spontaneous and unrelated to any outcome. No one may read it; someone may read it; the sun comes up and another day appears. As long as I don't get caught up in my own blogging ego, the practice is very pure. Like making today's breakfast. You don't carry around the oatmeal for a month trying to make something else out of it. You move on to other meals!

LTMD: You recently wrote on your blog that no one asks you how you meditate, only how you get your daughter, Georgia, to meditate. It was a lovely post. I actually found it interesting because my first question to you, over coffee, would be how do you meditate each day or throughout a day, with a child around? Your book offers great tips for mediating. Could you share a few with us, and how you eventually found a way to fit meditation into your busy mothering day?

KMM: What I meant is that people only seem to be interested in getting their own children to meditate, or sometimes they call it "focus." People rarely ask me how they themselves can begin meditating. Just another example of how we often view our children as the problem, imposing higher expectations on them then ourselves. My point was the same one I made in the book: everything begins with you! Just parenting ourselves is a full life's work, and our children will be so much better off if we do! The only way we teach them is by how we live.

I don't want anyone to think that I live differently than they do, or that with a small child underfoot I levitate into nirvana. More often, I scream my head off. But I finally did realize that the only sliver of the day I had control over was the minutes right before I went to bed at night. My formal home meditation practice consists of doing seated meditation on my zafu (cushion) in my bedroom at night before I get into bed. What bliss! It really helps me relax and let go of the day and sleep better, and I only do this for a few short minutes. Throughout the day, many activities can be meditative. They focus the mind and body in unison. Like singing, walking, exercise, yoga, knitting, artwork, gardening, folding laundry, cooking and conscious breathing (count to 10 before you explode). The opportunities are endless. Once you practice on a cushion, it is much easier to take mindfulness into your everyday life. Mindfulness, by the way, is kind of a misnomer. Our minds are too full already. I like to think of it as mindlessness. Empty mind, open and alert to what is happening now.

LTMD: You talk in your book about how we all spend so much time thinking about the life that we want, but really life is what is happening right now, this very minute. You also talk about the Crooked Path of Motherhood, and how we are all Other Mothers -- the mothers we see and think have it all, but really do not. How has knowing all of this, helped you be a better mother to your daughter? How has it helped you feel better about the life you are living?

KMM: You see, there it is right there: "better." I don't know if it is better. I try not to even think about being better, because the thinking always makes it worse. My point is to just be. Here's my only testimonial: I laugh. I smile. I lose it and quickly say I'm sorry. I see the utter delight that my daughter sees in her life and herself. I see the beauty and the bittersweetness, and it makes me cry. A lot. So far, every age and stage is more wonderful (sure there are struggles, there always are), but I love it all. There's nothing I would change, because it changes by itself as soon as I let it go. It's a show, the most amazing show on earth, and it never ends.


To enter this random drawing you will need to write (in any amount of words) about this statement: "For me, Zen is ..." You may write your answer in the comments section here, or on your own blog, but you must link to this post and to Karen's blog as well. Please, no matter what, leave a comment here notifying us of who is entering the drawing. Deadline to enter this contest is Saturday, July 7 by midnight. The Da! will pick the five lucky winners of "Momma Zen" Sunday by noon.
You do not have to be a blogger to enter this drawing; just leave your comment below.