Thank a veteran today. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Honey. Thanks to my father-in-law.

Thank you to all those currently deployed. And thanks to their families, for sharing in the sacrifice. And prayers for those at Fort Hood, and at Walter Reed, and in Arlington Cemetary. And the millions who have given their service, and their lives, over the years, to protect and defend our nation.

Seems there’re more reasons than ever to go vegan, or at least trim the fat (and flesh) a bit from the diet.

As someone ‘of that age’ who was recently advised to start working calcium supplements (as well as weight-bearing exercise) into my lifestyle to keep the bones from returning to dust before the rest of me, I was startled to learn that calcium, in fact, might not be the key, so much as … low-acid eating. Or, to put it another way, less high-acid eating - that is, cutting back on the high protein foods, packed with amino acids, which boost the acid level in the blood which in turn leaches calcium from the bones to restore the balance. And it’s all those animal-based proteins that are the biggest culprits. (Upon ‘boning up’ on this issue a little, and checking out the chart, I tried to neutralize my hard-boiled egg breakfast with a handful of apricots. I don’t know if it works that way.)

And then there’s the meat-dairy -> inflamation -> cancer link. (My chiropractor was touting the benefits of an anti-inflammatory diet a while back … hm, reduce my cancer risk, improve my bones, and help my chronically sore back too? A trifecta of well-being. I believe Andrew Weil has a a lot to say on the subject. Might be a good place to learn more about the theory and practice.) But wait, there’s more…

Ever think about the the carbon hoof-print of the beef you put on your plate? The people over at the PB&J Campaign did. Actually, a lot of folks have, and there are a lot of ways to crunch the numbers (a quick Google will soon get your head spinning). But suffice it to say, the commercial raising of animals for human consumption contributes (more than?) its fair share to green-house gas emissions - and cow burps are not least among sources (and according to my quick-click research, grass-fed only exacerbates the output).

We’re not a hugely meat-eating household, but now I’ve got more impetus (justification?) than ever to bulk up the bolognese sauce with shredded zucchinis. Too bad the squash vine borer took out all five of our plants just halfway through the summer - but not before we’d harvested half-a-dozen overgrown slivered-almond specimens.

On Sundays when I head out to my morning yoga meditation, the local public radio station is airing Speaking of Faith with Krista Tippett. It’s seems fairly ecumenical, and focuses more on the spiritual rather than the Religious, and though I only catch about 10 minutes, it usually gives me something to think about, and puts me in the right frame of mind for the 90-minute detox. This morning offered reflections on the intersect between the current US and global economic crisis and the “moral, spiritual, and practical aspects” of our existence, from the show’s on-going project Repossessing Virtue. (The title of this blog post was from a snippet I caught; if you do podcasts, this might be a good candidate. I hope to take in more of it myself.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘compassion’ lately, what it means, how to have (more of) it. My definition has evolved so far to this: compassion = respect + empathy + forgiveness. Respect for our children’s words and point of view, our parents’ life experiences and values, however different from ours; empathy for the challenges others must face that we, through luck, or even endeavor, have been able to avoid; forgiveness for ourselves and our loved ones for who we are, warts and all. Perhaps the crisis we’re facing now, especially here in the United States - where obesity and not starvation is our biggest health problem, were wars are endured by ‘other people’ (including our own volunteer forces) in other lands, were voting and education (however flawed or neglected in execution) are not only a privilege (which they are) but a right - is a crisis in compassion.

For myself (and especially for everyone stuck with me) I would like to live more compassionately. And more joyfully. And share it with the world. Easier said…

Who would have thougth Michael Jackson and Bikram yoga could converge in so many ways. Our instructor this morning lead the class in tribute to The Gloved One’s passing, channeling his inner yogi - which today was considerable. (It was a little Off the Wall, in the best way. And of course, the whole time, I’m melting, like hot candle wax.) 

As best as I recall it (and I’m sure I’m misplacing the references, not to mention mangling the official Bikram patter, which you think I’d have memorized by now…):

Pranayama breathing: “Let’s begin. Shake off the funk of forty thousand years…”

Pada-Hasthasana, Hands-to-Feet: “Tuck your elbows behind your knees. Reach your palms under your heels. Don’t stop ’til you get enough.”

Dandayamana-Janushirasana, Standing Head to Knee: “It don’t matter if you’re black or white, Lock Your Knee.”

Dandayamana-Dhanurasana, Standing Bow Pose: “Reach your one-gloved hand up high over your head.”

Dandayamana-Bibhaktapada-Paschimotthanasana, Standing Separate Leg Stretching Pose: “Stuck in the middle, and the pain is thunder.” (Or maybe I was just thinking that.)

Trikanasana, Triangle Pose: “Annie, are you okay?” (Focused on and straining in this top-of-the-mountain master pose, it took me a few seconds to process that one, upon which I immediately collapsed out of the pose. No idea what Annie’s problem was.)

Savasana: ”Relax your mind, lay back and groove.” (Okay, I threw that in, as Rock With You plays in the background.)

Supta-Vajrasana, Fixed Firm pose: “Breathe. ABC, it’s easy as 123.”

Ustrasana: “Previously called Camel pose, today this will be the Michael Jackson Memorial pose. It’s a Thriller. Come on, everyone can do this. Don’t sit this one out. Just Beat it.” (Show them how funky and strong is your fight…)

Paschimotthanasana, Stretching pose: “Moon walk your butt back…”

And finally, to Michael, the Man in the Mirror there with the rest of us today, PYT of my pre-teen years, now in his final savasana, ”Namaste ma ma sa ma ma coo sa.”

I have this friend - hey, we all have that friend - who seems to have a trigger finger on the email forward button. (What else do they do all day?) Recently, he passed along an especially egregious political tall tale being rocketed through cyber space as though it had some grain of truth, with the plaintive note, “I hope this isn’t true.” Turned out my friend was baiting me - or so he said - confessing to being too lazy to dig into it himself (just click ‘forward’).

Aside: Okay, this sort of thing is a huge pet peeve of mine - the worst kind of computer virus, if you ask me. Folks, verify your gossip before you pass it along (one usually need to go no further than breakthechain.org or snopes.com or About.com’s urban legends). Besides, didn’t your mother ever tell you, it’s not nice to gossip. End aside.

Anyway, his latest missive touts the mosquito killing and repelling powers of Listerine - which, still scratching from the bug attacks of Memorial Day weekend, I was itching to check out. Urban Legends put me straight - there’s not much too it. (However, their poll indicated that the majority of people who tried it did think it worked - so does experience and perception trump scientific probability here?) In any case, About.com also offered up a laundry list of natural insect repellents. (Note that natural is not necessarily the same as safe.) I did have a laugh at number two on their list of things to avoid: carbon dioxide. Just don’t breathe (out) and you’ll be fine. And here I thought playing dead was to keep away bears.

There was no mention of garlic, but I knew a Marine once who swore by it. But consuming copious amounts of garlic may be easier to pull off, socially speaking, amongst a platoon of soldiers in the field than at a backyard BBQ in suburban US of A. I did check out one site - StraightDope.com- that debunked the idea in favor of DEET - which I note mostly because I like their name and tag line: “Fighting ignorance since 1973 (It’s taking longer than we thought)”.

As kismet would have it, two separate items caught my eye today re: the handling of perhaps summer’s two biggest outdoor challenges—overexposure to the sun’s rays, and overexposure to mosquitoes.

The piece in the Washington Post tackles the environmental impact of sun screen. It’s part of the Post’s (new?) section on the environment, but this particular content actually comes courtesy of the Green Lantern, Slate.com’s column that endeavors to light the way in “bluntly assess[ing] what can realistically be done to protect the environment—and, perhaps more importantly, what cannot.” (May have to get the RSS feed….)

Anyway, the health impact of sunscreen—slathering the mysterious chemical goop on the skin—has long been on my mind, but I confess I hadn’t thought much about what happens after it washes off (beyond the crispiness of my kids’ cheeks). The information all seems as murky as a Chesapeake Bay dead zone (regarding nano particles, too), but it does makes sense that something that feels like its suffocating my own skin might not be so great for the rest of earth’s living creatures either. In the end, Slate backs up my instinct to grab the shirt and hat, hang in the shade, and avoid the mid-day glare, as the best approach to dealing with summer’s intense UV downpour, and bring in the sunscreen to pinch-hit when those efforts aren’t enough.

Aside: a health care professional was pushing Vitamin D supplements on me the other day, but in the end had to admit that just minutes of sun exposure (to the sunscreen-free skin, of course) a day will take care of your needs. (Here’s what WebMD says on the subject.) Even still, apparently Americans, especially older women (me?!), still don’t get enough. Don your red hat, gals, and get out there and garden! (Or water ski, hike, beach comb, or whatever suits your fancy.)

For when the sun is too much with us and sunscreen is a must, hedge your bets with this info (check out the ‘common brands’ info on the right for the quick and dirty 411). Or bulk up your sun-protection wardrobe at Coolibar, or go safari at Ultimate Hats.

Next up - skeeters.

I was never much of a fan of these little guys until I got one in a Styrofoam cup for Mother’s Day one year, which thrived and bloomed all summer, and then self-seeded the following year. Now they’re my little work-horses of color down the front walk, or wherever they volunteer themselves. With a little deadheading - which even the judiciously directed toddler can handle - they just go and go.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you go-and-go moms out there.

* Defined: French à gogo, galore, from Old French a gogo - who knew? (Not me!)

Over the last few months, the following stories have appeard in the Washington Post.

On malnutrition in North Korea:

…Teenage boys fleeing the North in the past decade are on average five inches shorter and weigh 25 pounds less than boys growing up in the South, according to measurements taken at a settlement center for defectors in South Korea.

Mental retardation caused by malnutrition will disqualify about a quarter of potential military conscripts in North Korea…

On maternal mortality rates in Sierra Leone and elsewhere:

… More than 500,000 women a year — about one every minute — die in childbirth across the globe, almost exclusively in the developing world, and almost always from causes preventable with basic medical care. The planet’s worst rates are in this startlingly poor nation on West Africa’s Atlantic coast, where a decade of civil war that ended in 2002 deepened chronic deprivation.

According to the United Nations, a woman’s chance of dying in childbirth in the United States is 1 in 4,800. In Ireland, which has the best rate in the world, it is 1 in 48,000. In Sierra Leone, it is 1 in 8….

On the brutal use of rape as a weapon of war in Congo* - I won’t recount details here. The story I suppose wouldn’t be considered “graphic”, but the situations described are truly horrifying. Action in some measure is being taken:

A campaign spearheaded by the U.N. Children’s Fund is working with local groups to break traditional taboos around talking about the violence…. Five months ago, U.N. officials began bringing together women to tell their stories to rooms full of local officials, community leaders, even children. One sign of success is that more men than women have volunteered for training to encourage victims to come forward and their communities to confront the issues.

(* When I went back to find this story in the Washington Post, it was gone. It was an AP story - but it was also gone from CBS online, New-Journal, Miami Herald, Modesto Bee, Star Tribune. I found it at MSNBC, but I wonder how long it will be there… and why it was removed from so many places.)

On the abduction of children into forced soldiering (and more) in Uganda (again, I couldn’t trace back to the article I’d read recently, but did find a 2004 article on the ‘night commuters’):

About 15,000 young Ugandans trek every evening from more than 300 villages, some more than five miles away, into the safety of Gulu…. An estimated 34,000 children have been abducted since 1994.

It was these sorts of stories that I had in mind when first starting this blog. Gives a little different perspective to the day-to-day iritations of rude drivers, cranky kids, overcooked lima beans and dirty laundry, not to mention recession, job worries, and even health concerns and personal misfortunes.

I’ve found my zen yen - Bikram yoga. Admittedly, at first glance this sounds like an ‘extreme sport’ of its own, yoga on steroids. 90 minutes, 105 degrees, 40% humidity, the same 26 postures, (ideally) every day. Maybe even a little compulsive. But for me it’s the one time of the day when I don’t do anything, ANYTHING, else. No multitasking, no planning, no ruminating, no worrying, no fidgeting, no running, no responding, no caring-giving. Ideally, not even any thinking, beyond the mantric guidance of the teacher.

It’s my Oprah-indulgent, nap-time, mocha-latte, retail-therapy, Calgon-take-me-away, exultant, challenging, relaxing, energizing, only-me-and-not-even, bring-everything-into-balance experience. Meditation in motion. And wonder of wonders, it fits into my schedule - that one so jam-packed with stuff - and blocking out that hour and a half for just this seems to lead to less wheel spinning through the other 22.5.

A recent practice ended with the following Sanskrit proverb:

Look to this day,
For yesterday is but a dream,
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today, well lived,
Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.

Completely unrelated to my last post, today I received in my inbox two very different video clips, both with an “I want this” sort of tag. Both fascinating and fun, but I gotta say, in the end the one makes me say, “aaaahhhh” (except for the whole vertigo / acrophobia thing) - the other makes me say “aaarrrrgggggh” (sorry, Hon - but I don’t mind if you have one!). “Too much information” takes on a whole new meaning. No brain chips for this dip!

(Good Lord, am I becoming a Luddite? … nah.)