Hitting the Reset Button: Retreat and Recharge April 3, 2017 13:46

               The only thing that matters is this breath. The only thing that matters is slicing this apple. The only thing that matters is this step. The only thing that matters is this blue heron taking flight over a pond.

                I recently spent three days in a secluded cabin at the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center in Bloomington, Indiana, for a personal retreat.  I needed a little time to unplug (literally and metaphorically) from the world and to reconnect with myself and my practice.

                I stayed in a circular, yurt-inspired cabin. It had a small kitchen, a domed skylight , walls painted a soothing sea foam green, plenty of floor space for yoga practice, and a deck with a view of the woods.

                During my stay, I made serenity a priority. I practiced yoga every morning before breakfast and every evening before going to bed.  I wandered in the woods and grounds of the Center in between stints of light rain showers. I circumambulated the Kalachakra Stupa while chanting. I ate meals mindfully.  I meditated on the deck. I strung beads on a mala. I chatted briefly with gray squirrels, attendants at the nearby gift shop (The Happy Yak), Geshe Kunga on his way to the temple, and an aging, but friendly pug named Norbu.

                For three days, I paid close attention to sounds that I’m not accustomed to hearing—wind chimes, fluttering prayer flags, rain on the roof, squirrels skittering on the deck. I took time to enjoy food—to savor every bite—sliced oranges in a bowl, raspberry cheesecake, toast with Marionberry jam, Greek yogurt with spiced butternut squash and apricots. I watched the sunrise between the trees and the stars from the skylight.

                No obligations or interruptions, no striving or planning, this retreat was all about allowing and being.  My headaches (and hot flashes) subsided; my stress levels decreased dramatically.  By releasing the usual day-to-day distractions, it allowed me to connect more deeply to myself and the environment.

                 I look forward to visiting TMBCC again for future retreats. In the meantime, I can choose to find stillness and serenity in this moment, regardless of where I am. I can choose to make my meditation/chanting practice a priority every day, beginning each day with recitations,instead of postponing it to the end of the day when I am mentally and physically fatigued. I can choose to unplug from the frenetic busyness of my day-to-day life for just a few minutes in order to reboot and recharge energetically.

                The only thing that matters is this breath.  The only thing that matters is this traffic light. The only thing that matters is this student who will deliver her speech in an hour.  The only thing that matters is this sip of lukewarm chai tea.

One Breath, One Bead at a Time. July 4, 2016 16:04

The Zombie Apocalypse is real. For 25 years, I taught high school English. For many of those years, I felt trapped in a perpetual cycle of planning lessons, creating tests and essay assignments, grading papers, and attempting to manage and meet the academic needs of students crammed in over-crowded classrooms.  I often felt confined by the clock and by the ever-present and perpetually-increasing demands that a data-driven system thrives on—the almighty standardized test scores.

I felt stressed—all the time—and I spent very little time in the present moment.  This constant striving, doing, rushing, pushing, and grasping for the future or ruminating and worrying about the past kept me from meeting the needs of my students and taking care of myself. It also kept me out of the present moment, and it prevented me from enjoying my life. My students never really knew who I was—and neither did I.

For a quarter of a century, I was caught up in a trance, and yoga and meditation gradually helped me break the spell and encouraged me to find balance and purpose in my life.

My first experience with yoga and meditation occurred when I was a freshman at Butler. A guest speaker came to our Physical Education/Health class.  My fellow classmates and I were crammed into a small classroom/storage room, and many of us giggled our way through the guided meditation followed by a brief asana practice in the gym.  This was not an ideal environment to explore the benefits of meditation and yoga, and it certainly didn’t leave a lasting or accurate impression on me.  

I revisited meditation when I was pregnant with my daughter in 1994, and in 2000, started regularly attending a yoga class at a local gym. Progress was glacially slow—but gradually, very gradually, I started to find a respite from the 10,000 distractions and thoughts that blocked my path, and I started to connect and reconnect with myself.

Stilling the constant mental chatter in meditation was a big challenge in the beginning—and still can be at times, even now. But with consistent practice, and, ideally, after an hour of asana practice, it’s much easier to climb inside the present moment.  Memories, thoughts, and feelings still rise to the surface, but it’s easier now to briefly acknowledge them, allow them to drift away in order to make room for the spaces between thoughts.

Yoga, too, has helped. It has helped me focus on my breathing—and to bring my awareness out of the mind and into the body—even for just a little while. Yoga also allows me to sit more comfortably when I’m meditating—and to sit for longer periods of time.

In recent years, I have added a mantra practice with malas to enhance my meditation and yoga practice. Using a mala gives me a tactile anchor that keeps me rooted and grounded in the here and now.  Each bead becomes a fresh focal point, a new beginning, ushering in a new moment. Each inhalation, each exhalation, each repetition of the mantra welcomes now, and now, and now.

 Ultimately, my yoga and meditation practice has saved my life—it has helped me find balance and perspective, and it has prevented me from falling off the precipice of perpetual busyness and disappearing into the abyss of the living dead.

I’ve since retired from teaching full-time. I still tutor part-time, and working with students one-on-one allows me to give them my undivided attention—to be fully present.  I also teach and practice yoga, and along with running a small business, I still remain very busy, but I am no longer a slave to busyness.  I am living my life on my own terms, and I am living my life one moment at a time—one bead at a time.

Honoring Those Who Have Come before You June 1, 2016 08:00

My introduction to a meditation practice was not dramatic, by any means. My japa roots are humble ones; I fell into this practice by a combination of happenstance, intuition, and luck. I didn’t have a guru or a spiritual teacher to show me the way.  My spiritual teachers were found mainly in books and Sounds True courses on cassette tapes (later CDs): Louise Hay, Alan Watts, Marianne Williamson, Eckhart Tolle, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Don Miguel Ruiz, Caroline Myss, and Carl Jung.  Each book, each lecture was like an individual bead on a sutra—one following the other—each one connected and interconnected—leading me to exactly where I was meant to go…and be.  

            I started to meditate when I was pregnant with my daughter, Elise. At the time, I was naïve enough to think that meditation would help me transcend the pain of childbirth. I never dreamed that it would become a lifelong habit that would help me navigate the joys and challenges of life, and that it would become an absolute necessity for the demands of parenthood.

            In the winter of 1994, I made weekly trips to a small home in Broad Ripple that had been converted into a meditation center.  I remember our shoes lined up in neat rows by the door, the faint smell of jasmine incense, sunlight streaming through partially opened blinds, and that purple maternity Barneyesque sweat suit that I wore (It was the only thing comfortable enough for me to sit and meditate in).  I was full of hope and purpose, and I was eager to welcome a new life as well as a new practice into my own life.

            I persisted, sitting every evening in front of a small votive candle on the floor of my daughter’s freshly-painted nursery.  After she was born, sitting in meditation became more sporadic, but it still happened—and life also happened.  However, I found new teachers to lead the way—poets, this time: Li-Young Lee, Jane Hirschfield, Gary Snyder, Dorianne Laux, Ted Kooser, Rita Dove, Charles Simic, Rumi, Dōgen…

            I bought my first mala before I knew what it was for—or how to use it. I knew they were sacred, like the rosaries I had seen my mother and grandmother use, and I knew that they were connected to meditation and spiritual practices, but that was all. I was drawn to the black specks on the creamy white bodhi seeds—a Moon and Stars Mala. It called to me, and I answered. For a long time, I kept it in my home office; it shared space on a table with a small candle and a statue of Kwan Yin.  I liked the feel of the seeds between my fingers—and sometimes I wore it to school.

            Eventually, all of the pieces of the puzzle came together with the help of many more teachers.  This time, real-live human beings were coming into my life to enhance my practice, and I was very grateful for their arrival.  I was able to link my meditation, yoga, and mantra practices together, integrating body, mind, and spirit.

            What started as naïve curiosity had blossomed and deepened into a sincere, heart-driven practice and a desire to share this practice with others. I love creating and designing custom malas for others, never forgetting how my own practice began, and honoring the teachers (literary and real-life) who helped me along the way.  My meditation practice started before I gave birth to my daughter, but what I didn’t realize is that, all along, this practice was helping me awaken, helping me realize my potential, and helping me serve others in a meaningful way.    

Hello 2016: Setting Intentions for the New Year January 1, 2016 06:52

It's that time of year again--January 1--the start of a new year.  The potential and hope of 2016 is wide open and waiting.  All we have to do is realize that potential. Right? In theory, yes, but in practice, things can grow a little murky and uncertain.

This year, I have committed to sitting in meditation every day--even if it's for just five minutes; my intention is to establish a seated meditation practice.  Chanting in my car on the way to work--piece of cake. Moving meditation--whether while walking or while practicing a slow yoga vinyasa, no problem.  At some point during the day, I usually sit in a chair or on the couch and complete a round of chanting with a mala, but it's not necessarily in the same place--and it isn't necessarily quiet.  I may hear the sound of the TV drifting in from another room, or my husband or daughter will enter whatever room I'm in to ask me a question, or the bell will ring during a passing period at school, and my practice will be accompanied by the sounds of teenagers shuffling and chatting in the hall.

This year, things are going to be different. I even invested in a lovely zafu and zabuton set (thanks to Dharma Crafts) as an additional incentive and spent over an hour cleaning the living room which had been taken over by various boxes, bags, and books from my daughter's college dorm room.

It's January 1. I've cleared the space. I've made the time. I have the house to myself. I have a lovely place to sit and meditate. What could possibly go wrong?  As I settle onto my meditation cushion and begin to connect with the rhythm of my breath, Maya, our four-pound Yorkie, and Hugo, our 100-pound Bouvier, decide that now is a good time to chase each other around the house.  Hugo is twelve-years old, so his hips are a little arthritic, and he's a bit clumsy now as he stomps around the house like Frankenstein's monster trying to keep up with two-year-old Maya. 

This, in and of itself, isn't bad.  I can deal with the occasional sounds of the trash can or chairs being bumped around in the kitchen.  Even the fast-paced sounds of Maya running around like Speedy Gonzalez followed by Hugo's labored clomping are manageable.  It's when they both stop running in the hallway--and it gets really quiet--I can't abide that.  I know what's happening--Maya has rolled over, showing her belly--and Hugo is licking her belly, and her face, and her legs, until she's totally soaked in his big dog saliva--wet,sticky,and smelling weird--that I can't handle.  

 I open my eyes, sigh, and walk down the hall, where they are both staring at me like guilty toddlers. Hugo is drooling on the floor, and Maya is a soaking-wet pupsicle. I grab a towel from the bathroom closet, clean up the puddle in the hall, scoop Maya up in my arms, and walk back to my meditation cushion. Hugo lumbers into the living room and sits down next to me, resting his head on the corner of my zabuton. Maya is in my lap wrapped up in the towel.  They both settle and become still.

It takes me a hot second to recover from this ridiculous interruption.  After about a minute, my giggling subsides, my breathing settles, and I am able, at last, to meditate. It didn't happen like I had imagined, but it did happen, and I was able to share my experience with my two puppy children, and, honestly, they seemed pretty open to the experience.  That's the way it goes with resolutions...or intentions...or anything else, for that matter. Unexpected glitches occur, and things don't usually go as planned, but with a little patience, perseverance, and creative adjusting, they do eventually happen. Only 364 days to go....wish me luck. Happy 2016 everyone!

Tradition and Meditation Practice October 18, 2015 12:37

Tradition has its place in society.  It creates comfort and stability.  It offers a solid connection to the past and honors those who have come before us.  Tradition represents the deep roots in the tree of life that can literally and metaphorically ground us.

For thousands of years, malas have been made of traditional materials such as sandalwood, tulsi, and rudraksha seeds.  These were the materials available to the sages, rishis, and meditators in ancient India and Tibet.

What about meditators today? Is it appropriate to chant and recite mantras with malas made of gemstones and crystals instead of the traditional materials of the past?  Well, it depends.

As in any yoga practice, a meditator's practice begins with an intention.  The intention is like an electrical current running through and energizing the practice, and the mala is like the light bulb.  The intention may be specific or general--it may be personal or universal. Whatever the intention, it must resonate in an authentic way with the practitioner or meditator.  Through sincerity and dedication, a mantra or meditation practice with a mala requires clarity and connection.  

If traditional beads made of wood, yak bone, or seeds resonate with the meditator, adding an element of authenticity to the practice and strengthening the intention, then, by all means, using malas made of traditional materials would be appropriate.

However, meditators bring meaning and significance to the mala--not the other way around.  Each bead is energized with the intention, the dedication, and the presence of the meditator . The meaning doesn't reside in the beads, themselves. The practice brings meaning to the beads, regardless if they are made of rudraksha seeds, rose quartz, acorns, or miniature marshmallows.

Finding a mala that resonates with the meditator is an important aspect of the practice. However, attaching too much significance to the tradition and history of the beads or the meaning behind the gemstones is just another way for the ego to creep in and disrupt the practice.

Is it OK to use a mala made of tulsi, wood, or yak bone beads?  Yes--of course.

Is it OK to use a mala made with gemstones, crystals, metal, and glass?  Yes-- of course.

Is it OK to use a mala made of miniature marshmallows and acorns? Yes--of course.

Any mala that resonates with the meditator, that aligns with the intentions of the meditator, and that motivates the meditator to continue the practice is appropriate.

The mala that you use in your practice should resonate with you and your intentions. There is no "right" or "wrong."  It is YOUR practice--it is YOUR energetic offering.  The mala is simply the vehicle for the light to shine, not the light itself. As with any energetic practice, it's important not to confuse the current with the bulb.

Seizing the Present Moment: One Bead at a Time July 8, 2015 09:07

Like clockwork, the first warm July days bring one of my favorite sounds—that spiraling whir of cicadas grinding away the summer in the trees.  Their song is bittersweet for me, reminding me that the summer is passing quickly.  Their jarring, cyclical songs function much like a natural mantra, reminding me to “be present…be present…be present” and to enjoy what’s left of the summer.

Repetition is soothing and comforting. It creates a familiar and recognizable pattern that can offer reassurance when stressed and bring a sense of order to chaos. Everything in the universe is made of vibration, and all sounds create movements of energy. Mantra is a Sanskrit word that means “sound tool.”  A mantra can be a word, phrase, or affirmation that is repeated in the mind, whispered, chanted, or sung in order to set an intention or aid in concentration during meditation practice.  The mantras we use represent the qualities or traits that we wish to embody or to permeate our consciousness.  When used in conjunction with a mala, the practice becomes even more visceral, and each bead is infused with the essence of the mantra.

The most effective mantras are the ones that are simple, significant, easy to remember, and phrased in the positive.  In order for mantras to make a beneficial difference in our lives, they must be repeated often….and believed. 

Example Sanskrit Mantras

  Om—Primordial sound of creation.  Brings us into harmony with the universe

 Shradda—Faith

 Bhakti—Devotion

 Shanti—Peace

 Santośa (pronounced san-tōsha)—Contentment

 Ananda—Bliss

 Moksha—Liberation

 Dharma—Destiny

 Spiritual Mantras

 Om Namah Shivaya—Honors Shiva, the god of transformation

 Om Gum Ganapatayai Namaha—I honor Ganesha, the remover of obstacles.  I ask for blessings and protection.

 So-Hum or Ham—Sah—“I am that” or “That I am.”

 El Shaddai—Hebrew name for God

 Om mani padme hum—invokes blessings of Chenrezig, the embodiment of compassion in Tibetan Buddhist tradition.

 Modern Examples—or Create Your Own Mantra

 Allow

Believe

Receive

Patience

Today, I choose joy.

I am strong, I am confident, I am healthy, and I am well.

I love myself.  I respect myself. I am worthy.

The universe is my source and will provide.

I send you joy.  I send you peace.  I send you health.  I send you love.

 In addition to calming the mind and silencing the incessant mental chatter of that nagging inner critic, reciting, chanting, singing, or simply thinking mantras can have other positive effects on the body:

*stimulates the relaxation response

*lowers heart rate and blood pressure

*stimulates immune function

*increases physical vitality and energy

*alleviates depression by decreasing stress hormones in body

*promotes breath control

*helps synchronize the left and right hemispheres of the brain

*oxygenates the brain through increased blood flow

*calms brainwave activity

*stimulates melatonin production, which can improve sleep quality

   Hearing the cicadas’ collective song of celebration and endurance today inspired me to take my meditation practice outside.  I sat under a white oak tree, mala in hand, and chanted along with the cicadas: “be present…be present… be present…enjoy this moment…this moment…this…moment…of…summer.”

Grandmother Spider May 17, 2015 17:44

This morning I watched a beautiful corn spider sitting in the middle of her web in our front garden.  She waited patiently among her carefully arranged silken cords, her intricate yellow and black coloring contrasting sharply with Hosta leaves and white rhododendrons.  

To the Hopi, Grandmother Spider is an earth goddess.  To the Cherokee, she is a bringer of light. Ancient Egyptians believed that the spider was a spinner and weaver of destiny.  Grandmother Spider is Thinking Woman.  What she thinks about, manifests, and we are all connected to this universal source of creativity.

Our lives aren't simply an assortment of random happenings.  For each of us, there is an underlying pattern and design, and, to some extent, we have a little control over our lives.  With our thoughts, with our actions and reactions, and with our words, we determine, to some degree, our future and our possibilities.

The word "bead" is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words "bidden" (to pray) and "bede" (prayer).  We all have access to the creative silk that resides within us. Where will it lead us? We are constantly assessing and reassessing our lives, taking stock, making changes, making mistakes, making discoveries, correcting, and second-guessing, but in the end, it all leads us exactly where we were meant to go.

One bead at a time, one prayer at a time, one breath at a time, each moment is a small flash in time that eventually leads us to the larger picture.

This beautiful garden spider reminded me that everything is linked; everything is connected, whether you are stringing beads, stringing prayers, stringing thoughts, words, or numbers, we are the architects and designers of our own lives. As long as we are authentic, as long as we honor our own creative endeavors, as long as we work to build a life full of meaning, our lives will, in fact, be beautiful, interconnected, and meaningful.  It takes trust, it takes courage, it takes forgiveness, it takes commitment, and it takes patience, but in the end, the larger picture is well worth the journey. 

Under My Thumb....or...What Is a Mala, Anyway? April 11, 2015 18:55



The Rolling Stones are slated to appear in Indianapolis on July 4 later this year.  WTTS, a local, independent radio station, just played “Under My Thumb” as a tribute and a reminder to listeners to “buy your tickets now.”  The iconic Stones have been around forever, and they are still rockin’ and rollin’ for their fans today.

Malas have also been rockin’ and rollin’ since the dawn of mankind.  Every culture and religion on the planet has incorporated rosaries, prayer beads, japa malas, or subha as a way to deepen their spiritual practice.  The materials, designs, and even number of beads may vary, but the common denominator is the same—to be still, to climb inside, and to connect with Universal Source, God, Allah, Shakti, Shiva, Spirit, Energy, Light….whatever name we choose to call that creative force that’s bigger than ourselves.

So, what is a mala?

 * Mala means “garland” in Sanskrit. It is a strand of beads used for mantra meditations, recitations, or chanting.

 * A mala is a meditation tool that contains 108 beads (although some contain 27 or 54 beads). Some malas include additional marker beads or counter beads, which are not counted as part of the meditation cycle. Instead, these marker beads function as reflection points or pauses, giving the meditator the opportunity to reconnect with his/her intention or focus.

 * The large guru bead (teacher bead/guiding bead) or pendant acts as the starting and ending point. However, the guru is not counted, and it is never crossed if the meditator chooses to chant/recite more than one circuit.

 * Malas (like prayer beads and rosaries) have been used for centuries as a meditation aid in virtually every spiritual or religious practice. You don’t have to belong to a particular religion or denomination to use a mala.

 * Some meditators prefer to wear their mala as it reminds them of their intentions or affirmations throughout the day.

 * Malas can also be used to decorate a sacred space. They add color and texture to an altar space or shrine.

* Some yoga practitioners wear their malas during practice or keep them on their mats to absorb the energy of their practice. A mala is a tangible reminder of the spiritual and mental benefits of their practice.

 * Use a mala to recite or chant a mantra, prayer, or affirmation for each bead in the circuit. Recitations can be silent, whispered, spoken aloud, or sung.

 Middle Moon Malas are hand-knotted between each gemstone bead, seed, or bead unit.  This allows the meditator to see and feel more of the bead between the finger and thumb while meditating.  Traditionally, full malas contain 108 beads.  Why? While open to interpretation, there are more than 108 reasons why this number is so significant.  Here are just a few:

 * 108 is a “harshad” number, which is Sanskrit for “great joy.” A harshad number is an integer that is divisible by the sum of its digits.  1+0+8 = 9.  108 divided by 9 = 12.

 * Any mathematician will tell you there’s power in numbers. One to the first power (1x1), times two to the second power (2x2=4), times three to the third power (3x3x3= 27), equals 108.

 * 108 energy lines or nadis converge to create the heart chakra—and one of them, the Sushumna, is believed to be the path to realization.

 * There are 108 qualities of praiseworthy souls and 108 stages along the journey of the human soul.

 * The number 108 connect to the relationship between the Sun, the Moon, and the Earth. The diameter of the sun is 108 times the diameter of the earth. The metal silver is associated with the moon. The atomic weight of silver is 108 (well, it’s actually 107.8682, but we’ll round up).

 * In Sanskrit, the language of yoga, there are 54 letters in the alphabet. Each has masculine and feminine form, Shiva and Shakti.  Consequently, 54 times 2 = 108. 

 You can sing, chant, whisper, or think the mantra that you choose to use with your mala.  Your mantra can be a traditional prayer (“Our Father”) or a traditional Sanskrit mantra (“Om gum ganapatyai namaha).  It can be a personal affirmation, a phrase, or a single word that helps you connect with your intention, purpose, or source. 

 You can use different mantras for the same mala, or, each mala can have its own mantra.  I am a collector of malas, and I tend to favor the latter approach.  One of my favorite mantras comes from Aibileen Clark, a character from Kathryn Stockett’s novel The Help: “You is kind.  You is smart. You is important.”

 Mantras can be as personal and specific or as universal and general as you’d like.  They can inspire, uplift, instruct, or honor a concept, belief, philosophy, deity, guide, or ethical code of your choosing.  Each bead on your mala resonates with the mantra that you choose, and the repetition creates a soothing flow, allowing you to absorb and connect with the message more deeply.  Just like the lyric goes, and in meditation, too, “It’s down to me…the change has come…under my thumb.”

To view our one-of-a-kind mala designs, visit: middlemoonmalas.com.

I Just Wanted an Orange Mala February 24, 2015 19:39

I’ve been practicing yoga for fifteen years and meditating (off and on) for just past twenty. I’ve found that simply sitting in a quiet space trying clear my mind only made the mind chatter louder. However, when I use a mala, it is so much easier to dive into my meditation practice. Guiding smooth stones or seeds across my thumb and finger with a mantra, phrase, single word, or even just a breath, allows my practice to take root, germinate, and cultivate serenity.

I’m drawn to malas not only as meditation tools, but also as works of art. I started to collect them for their different colors, stones, and designs. Each mala carried its own unique energy, and I assigned a unique mantra or affirmation for each one. I had collected over a dozen and draped them across the altar space in my home office. Bodhi seeds, lotus seeds, green adventurine, lapis, amethyst, rose quartz, malachite, rosewood, jasper, labradorite, citrine…and then it occurred to me; I wanted an orange mala. I had colors that corresponded to all of the other major chakras, all but orange. I decided that I could use a boost of creative energy, so I set out to find one in my usual places—online stores, local shops—but no luck. The only one that even came close was an overpriced plastic mala, and it wasn’t even knotted.

I prefer knotted malas. I can see and feel more of the beads, they don’t catch in my hair if I choose to wear them, and if the cord breaks, all of the beads don’t scatter across the floor. Besides, the knots represent the challenges in life, and the beads symbolize the beautiful aspects, and we need a balance of both to have a fulfilling life.

When my search proved unsuccessful, the thought occurred to me…maybe I can make my own orange mala? So I changed my approach and found beautiful orange aqua terra jasper beads in an Etsy shop and a lovely carved wooden bead for the guru.

 I treated the whole project like a science experiment—no pressure—no expectations—just playing with pretty beads and cord. After a couple of months of practice and trial-and-error with different types of cord and needles—and many attempts at stringing and restringing beads, I finally had my orange mala. The process, itself, had become a sort of meditation, and ultimately, after a year of continuing to practice and explore the art of mala-making with various sizes, shapes, colors, and types of beads, became the impetus for Middle Moon Malas.

 My search for an increase in creative energy has led me to design beautiful malas for others. My intention is to create hand-crafted and heart-made malas for those seeking to find their own way into a meditation practice, for those who want to wear and absorb the energy of the stones, or for those who would like to adorn their sacred spaces.    

I hope you find a beautiful Middle Moon Malas design that will enhance your personal practice and inspire you to find what you are seeking on your path. Or, send me a message if you're interested in a custom design.