X-RAY STAR

Two weeks ago (I think – I lose track of the days, they are a blur) I finally uploaded content for the Archives page that I had planned on creating four years ago.  What can I say, why do today what you can put off for a few years?  Anywhooo, it was a rainy Saturday afternoon when I finally thought “I guess I’ll pull together the files for the archive page today” and eight hours later, it was done.   

Last weekend when GP and I were out and about he was questioning me about the page “is it done, should I go look at it now” he asked, and I reminded him he’d already heard everything on the page but could go ahead and check it out if he wanted.  And then he asked me if it was fun building the content, and that’s when I began to tell him the discoveries that came with the creation of that page.  I shared with him how surprised I was at how often I sang someone else’s lyrics, how much of my early musical days were shared creations at best, and at times were simply me singing someone else’s song.  It wasn’t until Scotty and I reconnect to create Fall Lucky that I begin to take on all of the lyric writing as well as a lot of the musical arrangement. Glen and I also laughed over how much of a metal head I was in my younger days.  All these years I’ve always thought of him as the “heavy” influence in the band, but now realize I hold my own with him in that category (to be fair at this point in our lives we both have extremely diverse musical tastes). The thing I found most surprising was how I didn’t hear my “voice” in almost all of the music that I posted.  Yes, I’m singing so the vocals are me – but that’s not the voice I’m referring to.   

Me.  I was missing in so much of the music.  And that was a bit of a shock.  At 19 I had a moment of clarity that changed the trajectory of my life.  I knew with complete certainty what I wanted to do career wise.  What I wanted to be.  And in my memory, after experiencing that defining moment I then spent the next 9 or so years of my life in pursuit of that career.  And yet, when I look back – I don’t hear me in the music.  Even in much of the ColePilot material which was a lot of fun creating, I don’t hear myself.  What I do remember about that particular creative endeavor was my friend Dave saying to me “your music is so sad, your lyrics are so down, why don’t you write some happy songs”.  Dave was a major musical influence in my life, and his words carried weight with me.  So I tried to write happier lyrics.  And I did.  And they held no meaning for me I felt no connection to them, and I hear that lack of connection in some of the happier tracks from that project.  And when I listen back through time, I hear all the ways I tried to change myself to better fit the idea of me that someone else had.  It’s easy to spot now, but back then I was oblivious to what I was doing.   I was lost and I didn’t realize it.  I traveled so far away from myself.  During one of the band incarnations that I posted in the archives I began dating someone who, when looking back, I can see clearly wasn’t a good choice. But at the time I was looking to another to help me find myself.  What I found was an unkind partner and the lack of kindness isn’t the point – the lack of self however, is.  I lost myself entirely in that relationship.   

I’m not sure if I would have found my way out of that place if it weren’t for the second trajectory changing moment of my life.  A week before my mother’s passing, she and I were alone and we had (what I didn’t know at the time was) our very last heart to heart chat.  And during that chat she shared with me her dislike for the individual I was dating, and she asked me to leave him. My mother never missed a thing, she knew exactly what was going on.  I looked her in the eyes and told her everything was fine, I was happy it was all good.  And then she was gone.  And her words haunted me.  And they became the catalyst for me finding the strength to leave. And in the leaving I flung myself into the arms of a man that I knew would take care of me, I knew would always love me, I knew would always be kind to me.  He’d keep me safe.  Mom would have loved him.  Notice anything missing in that description? Without realizing it I had once again changed my trajectory.  I think of those years as the Tie Fighter years you know that scene where Darth spirals off in his fighter jet (that’s right I just dropped a Star Wars reference there, you’re welcome). I was spinning wildly out of control, and I had no idea what was I doing. Important people in my life, told me I needed to stop my “hobby” of music.  So I quit, because what did I need music for right? I had far more important responsibilities to attend to.  And I continued to travel further and further away from myself.   

Six or so years would pass before I finally reached the point where the voice inside me would no longer be ignored.  It had become rather insistent over the years, and no matter how I tried to drown it out (much of the time with copious amounts of alcohol) it wouldn’t take no for an answer.  And I eventually began to find my way back to music.  At about the same time, Scotty was finding his way back to music and one night he called and we caught up with each other and decided we’d get together to jam.  And that was the beginning of Fall Lucky. 

It was also the beginning of my travels back to myself.  Because the crux of this story involves other people who I care very much about, I will keep most of the details private. The last thing I want is to cause any of them further pain.  What I will tell you is this, there comes a point along my travels when I realize I have made a mistake, and the undoing of that mistake will cause others great pain, and the ownership of being the cause of that pain will create an overwhelmingly vast amount of guilt for me.  I carry it with me to this day.  On the road to me, I have accumulated much baggage. Here’s the thing, those that I hurt, they forgave me long ago. They moved on long ago.  I’m still hauling around the guilt and shame. Still telling myself that I don’t deserve another chance. 

A few nights ago, I had a conversation with a friend and this person shared with me how they were wrestling with some uncomfortable feelings.  Essentially we discussed shared struggles with feeling worthy.  And while our circumstances are entirely different what we may have in common, is a level of dis-ease with feeling happy.  More specifically with feeling like we deserve to be happy. With feeling like we deserve love. That conversation stuck with me.  And I’ve wondered how it is that my friend who is incredibly intelligent, warm, loving, truly beautiful inside and out, could have any feelings of unworthiness?  Why? How do we get to this place? 

And that’s when it occurred to me that I feel deep compassion for other people.  I feel such deep love for other people.  I am a quick forgive when it comes to other people.  And yet when it comes to myself…I hold myself to such an extreme standard, a standard I would never in a million years hold anyone else to. WTF is that all about?  Apparently, the journey to myself isn’t ending anytime soon.  At least I’ve gotten past the Tie Fighter years.  I think it’s important to recognize progress however small. 

I cling to that progress, it’s my lifeboat, the buoy that makes me want to keep going no matter how often I might fail along the way.  I just need to keep trying.  These last few pandemic months have started to wear me down.  I miss my friends, I miss going out and not feeling panic, I miss being out in nature so very much, more than anything else I miss being able to hug the people I love.  I feel lost. Somewhere in these days I lost my sense of direction.  The compass inside of me – disappeared.  And I can feel myself begin to disconnect .  Disconnecting is deceptive, it seems like it’s the easier path.  And please trust me on this one, I speak from experience here, disconnection is a storm in the making.  In the long run, it will ruin. 

A tropical storm blew through last week, leaving the area without power for a few days.  And in the evening when the house was hot, and the air outside was cooler, I would put my beach chair in its recline position and sit outside in the dark, stare up at the moon and the stars and think about life.  Think about compassion, and forgiveness, and feeling worthy and how excruciatingly painful life can sometimes be. I thought about a call I’d gotten letting me know my grandmothers sister had passed, and I wondered if my Nonna was waiting in the wings to welcome her sister home.   I wondered if there is a home that we get to go to.  Maybe there is.  And maybe, while we are in this world, home is that place in our heart where despite all that we drag around with us, there is still a spark of hope, something inside of us that is bigger than the pain, something that recognizes that there is beauty in the fragility of all things, that it’s the impermanence that creates meaning.  That no matter how far we might go in the wrong direction in life, no matter how badly we may have screwed things up, no matter how many mistakes we have made, no matter how heavy the baggage we carry, as long as there is breath in our lungs, there is still time.  Still time to forgive ourselves, to change direction.  Still time to choose differently. 

Still time to work up the courage to try again.   

In 2013 I bought a pair of roller skates.  I had been thinking about how much I loved to skate and decided I wanted to start skating again.  The skates arrived, I tried them on to make sure they fit and were comfortable and then I put them in the trunk of my car so that I would be ready when the opportunity to skate presented itself.  They remained in my trunk, unused for seven years. 

Over those years any time I opened my trunk and someone was around without fail the second they spotted my skates they would ask some version of the question “are those your skates, do you still roller skate?”  And I’d always answer “those are mine and I love to skate” which would quite often lead to a conversation that included shared memories of good times at the rink. 

Recently, during a regularly scheduled (what my friends and I call) Wine Friday skating came up in conversation and one of my BFFs was quick to share with the group the fact that I’ve got a pair of skates in the trunk of my car.  Much to my surprise a couple of my friends very excitedly professed their love of skating and within minutes we decided that we all wanted to skate and made plans to go the following weekend. 

The week leading up to our planned rink adventure I got to thinking about many of the great memories I had of skating and wondered why I had stopped doing something that I enjoyed so much.  More importantly I realized I couldn’t actually remember any specifics about the last time I had skated.  Whenever that last time was, I put on my skates like any other time not giving any thought to whether or not there would be a next time.   

And that my friends, is my point. 

Last Saturday, I put on my “new” skates and I (rather awkwardly) glided out onto the rink floor.  After a few laps much of the skill I once had, returned.  After about an hour of circling around and around I found myself moving just like old times.   

Only this time I asked myself - what if this is the last time I get to skate? I wanted to remember everything about the experience -the lights, the music, what it felt like to glide across the floor, the speed, the exhilaration, the unfettered joy.  I took it all in.  I was truly present for the experience and it was extraordinary. 

My friends and I laughed and talked about what a great time we had the entire ride home.  They will be buying their own skates, and I will be upgrading to a better pair.  We discussed renting out the rink for a few hours so we could invite friends and have the floor to ourselves and we also made plans for outdoor skating once the weather warms up.  That being said it’s quite likely that I’ll be skating again soon.  But the truth is, I don’t know that for certain, nothing outside of this moment is promised.   What I do know is that I have the memory of last Saturday, the memory that was created because I was truly present for the experience. 

And that got me wondering, what changes might occur if I began living more frequently from a last time perspective?  This past week I conducted an experiment - whenever I noticed I wasn’t  being fully present during the day I would stop and ask myself - what if this is the last time?  Here’s what I learned from my inquiry... 

It didn’t matter what I was doing, asking myself that question caused a significant shift in my perception and without fail brought about presence.  Depending upon the situation it sometimes brought about very profound perception shifts, for example if I had been talking with someone, it completely changed how I showed up in conversation with them.  It changed how I showed up in meetings, in line getting coffee, walking around the block, washing dishes, how I spent my free time and it helped me to notice how many things I take for granted.  What if this were the last time shifted my perception and brought presence and meaning to everything.  It helped me to recognize the sacredness of each moment, of each encounter.  

Now let me take a moment to be clear, I did not suddenly turn into some enlightened master.  I am still very much the incredibly flawed human I was before I conducted my last time experiment.  I’m not present for much of each day, I can still space out with the best of them.  Why? Because as far as I can tell transformation is incremental.  If there’s a fast track for transformation, I haven’t discovered it yet.  And if there is one, where would the adventure be in that?  I’m not all that interested in the fast track, I’m not sure there would be a heck of a lot of meaning found in an expedited route.  And without meaning would there be purpose?  Food for thought.  In the meantime while I mull that over, anytime I catch myself adrift I will continue to return to the last time mindset because it has a way of helping me to remember...there’s no such thing as an ordinary moment.

The above photo was taken while visiting friends in Sarasota. One of my friends had recently purchased a Gold Wing and when he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride I jumped at the chance (his wife was kind enough to lend me her gear so I could take that ride safely).  This has nothing to do with anything other than for me to tell you this – I freaking love riding on the back of a bike!  So much fun.  Ok, moving on. 

Recently some coworkers and I went to Dave and Buster’s to have lunch and celebrate the holidays and when we were done with our meal we wandered out into the game area to have some fun.  Initially we broke off into groups but eventually found our way to doing our own thing.  I had explored the game area thoroughly and walked by this row of motorcycles multiple times – each time thinking “that looks like fun” and I really wanted to try the game, but my fear of someone seeing me on the bike stopped me from giving it a try.  Well, it almost stopped me, after about an hour of playing many of the other game options I found myself in front of the bikes again, I took a look around didn’t see any of my coworker peeps anywhere and I thought “fuck it, let’s do this” and I got on the bike.  Three seconds into the game I crash the bike, I’m laughing, figuring out what kind of movement I need to make with the bike to keep it upright, which handle does what, it’s a mess but I’m slowly (with each subsequent crash) managing to keep the bike upright in the game for a longer period of time until finally I’m cruising easily at top speed on a big stretch of straightaway and I am having a freaking blast.  The game finishes, I manage to get off the bike without falling (no easy feat in 4 inch heels) and I go about my merry way.  As I’m walking away from the game I hear someone call my name.  I turn around and it’s a coworker and she says “look” and she’s pointing to her phone.  And I’m thinking to myself “oh please God, no.  Tell me she did not just record my ride”.  She did. I begin to panic and immediately start begging her to delete the footage when she says “would you just look at it” and that’s when I actually look at the video.  

There on the screen is a woman in a pink flowing shirt with bell sleeves and tuxedo tail and bad ass 4 inch heels and what completely surprises me is the look on her face.  She’s got wild eyes and a great big smile, and then I watch as she crashes the bike and she begins laughing.  It was a surreal moment because for a second or two – I was looking at someone else before returning to my senses and recognizing that the happy woman in the video was me.   And when the video ended and as I walked away I couldn’t help but think…shit….I almost didn’t get on that bike.  I almost let my fear of what someone else might think of me stop me from doing something that I wanted to do.  How many times in my life have I let that fear stop me?  And why do I continue to let it stop me? 

One doesn’t expect an epiphany to happen in a place like Dave and Buster’s but the Universe works in strange ways and wasn’t finished driving the point home.  An hour or so later I was getting ready to leave when a couple of my friends approached and asked if I wanted to go cash in my tickets with them.  I had accrued quite a few tickets so I went into the store to see if there was anything I wanted.  I walked two feet into the store and spotted a stuffed dragon.  And for a split second my excitement over this dragon got the better of me and I may have done a little bit of a happy dance because I had enough tickets to get the dragon.  What can I say, energy builds up inside of me and I’m like a five year old and start bouncing in place sometimes.  Also, it was a really cute dragon with sparkly metallic stars on it who wouldn’t get happy about that?  However, I very quickly realized I was happy dancing in front of my coworkers and I started dimming it down; I felt like I needed to present a less enthusiastic face so as not to embarrass myself in front of my coworker peeps. 

But here’s the thing, when I looked over at my friends they were smiling at me.  They were reflecting my joy back to me.  So was the woman who had video taped my awesome bike ride – she too had reflected back to me the joy I had felt in that moment.  I happy danced my way to the checkout with my new dragon and I saw that the cashier was smiling back at me with the same wattage smile as was radiating on my face.   And that’s when the epiphany occurred.  

So often, I fire up the self-imposed dimmer switch.  I hide what it is I’m feeling inside because I am afraid others will judge me.  And when I do that, I miss out.  I miss out on the deeper connection that could occur if I just trusted people enough to let them see who I really am at heart.  Sometimes I wonder why I can’t find my tribe, and now I’m beginning to suspect it’s probably got something to do with the fact that I don’t let the beacon that is my heart shine at full wattage.  I’ve been dimming it down in an effort to fit in.   

Wanting to fit in is natural, it’s part of the human DNA our survival is more likely if we form groups.  But the piece that I had been missing was that connection is found in the moments when we are brave enough to share our real selves with each other.  We don’t so much find our tribe as we connect with them.    

Damn Universe.  That’s a big one.  And now I can’t un-see that.  Honestly, I don’t want to un-see that.  I think instead I’m just going to make a promise to myself to try and be brave and toss the dimmer switch once and for all.  Also, I’ve already talked my friends into returning to Dave and Busters on a future date so that we can all get on that line of bikes and race each other! 

It’s 1:25AM and I should be sleeping but instead I’m lying in the dark mentally going through my Christmas to-do list.  Panic is rising in my chest because I’m not sure that I am done with my shopping yet.  Eventually I get up turn on the light and open my Christmas spreadsheet (why yes, I do have a Christmas spreadsheet how else does one track and analyze these things)?  My eyes dart back and forth between my spreadsheet and the large box of gifts in the corner of my room, and a full blown panic attack sets in because I have no idea what the hell I’ve bought. For anyone. Also I haven’t written out my Christmas cards yet.  Annnnd I just  realized I don’t have gift tags or bags, and the important presents for the holiday work gift drive haven’t arrived yet.  It’s official, holiday overwhelm is upon me and I am freaking out. 

Sigh. 

This is when I decide that I need to stop, take a breath and shift gears. I need to let go of my current “holy shit next week is Christmas” thought and focus on something else and that is when I decide I’m going to think about an invitation I got from a friend to take part in a Solstice celebration. This thought immediately lifts my spirits, I’m actually very excited about this. There is a to-do list that goes along with this event but it’s manageable, I need to pick up a few items for the ceremony and I need to decide what it is I will be releasing and what I want to invite in.  

So I open a new spreadsheet. Just kidding. This sort of thing is done on a handwritten list not a spreadsheet. Everyone knows that.  Anyway so I start thinking about this past year and that’s when it hits me that - oh my God - 2020..it’s a new decade. Wait, what? When did that happen? And where the heck has the last....omg....decade....2010....holy shit ten years....gone?  That’s when the ten years part really hits me and I find myself thinking about my first Christmas home in 2010.  That first Christmas alone.  I’ll sum it up like this...ignorance is a blessing. Good thing I didn’t have a clue what was ahead.  And this is the thought that leads me back to what I’m supposed to be doing - making a list. 

Actually it’s now 2:30AM what I’m supposed to be doing is sleeping but since that doesn’t seem to be one of the options at the moment, I’ll continue working on my solstice list beginning with my list of things I want to release.  I’m surprised that I don’t have much on my list of things to release.  I guess when it comes right down to it, I’ve spent the last decade painstakingly releasing that which I no longer want to drag around with me.  Only the strongest of ghosts remain and I plan on releasing the last of those suckers this weekend.  They don’t get to haunt me anymore.  

I am far more interested in listing what things I want to add to the “welcome” side of my list.  This is where the real magic lies.  What do I want to invite into this new year and decade? I’ll let you in on a little secret...that which was the catalyst for me starting over in 2010 is the only thing on my solstice welcome list.  It’s the one thing, the everything to me. It’s been a decade long - nope scratch that - it’s been a life long invitation of mine.  It’s that which is in back of all things. Its the micro and the macro. The only thing I wish to carry. I have been broken open and it’s all that I have left.  The real deal liberates, gives you wings and I’ll settle for nothing less than the real deal.  It’s our birthright to experience this. To be this. To give and to receive this.  And when I invite it in, I will invite it for all of us. Every last one. 

So this Saturday, on the longest night, out in the wild dark beneath the stars I will release that which no longer serves me and invite in that which matters most to me.   Kindred spirits will dance and celebrate what was, what is...and what’s to come.

Sometimes I take things for granted, it’s not intentional and it’s not that I’m not deeply appreciative, they are just the things I count on happening without question. Take breathing for example, most days I don’t think about breathing at all.    

I guess now is a good time to mention I have asthma and that for the last eight weeks or so,  breathing hasn’t been as easy as usual for me.  Symptoms began that were a warning it wasn’t under control and I needed to pay attention and do everything right. 

I wish I was the kind of person who does everything right when they should, but sometimes I  do dumb ass things.  Things like hang out with people while they are smoking and alright I confess, I may have also smoked a cigarette myself on occasion.  The only reason I quit smoking in the first place was because I got reeeeeeeeally sick and developed asthma.   The cliff notes version is this - I had a choice to make, breathe and be able to sing and speak without choking or smoke.  I quit cold turkey, (and with the exception of the occasional weekend cigarette smoked here and there over the last few months) I have been a non-smoker for 20 plus years.  Here’s what I can tell you - I don’t care how much fun the smoking section of a party is, you won’t find me there anymore and you won’t see me smoking again (I wish I could promise forever but I can’t, what I will promise is) for at least a full year.  Lesson learned.  My symptoms have gotten worse, and this week progressed to the point that I can’t speak a full sentence without choking, singing is not even remotely possible, sleeping has become reeeeeeeeally difficult thanks to frequent choking fits brought on by inflamed sinuses which are irritated by allergies and my former occasional smoking. This is what my pulmonologist told me today and he’s usually right. So after my office visit with him, I headed to the pharmacy to pick up some new meds and a humidifier. The pharmacy only had one humidifier in stock so I just grabbed it without looking too closely at it. When I got home I noticed it was for a child and had a lamp on it that projects different sets of images on the ceiling.  (Look, I’m just gonna say it - I kinda dig the celestial images, but I digress) it also has a place to put a Vicks Vaporizer thingy in it. And this my friends brings me to the beginning of my actual point. 

Vick’s Vapor Rub. This was the miracle stuff of my childhood. If I got a cold as a kid, my Mom would use Vick’s to help me feel better.  So this got me feeling a little nostalgic about Vick’s which is why I was excited to try the sample that was included with my new humidifier!  I put it in the humidifier, turned it on and within seconds the familiar aroma of Vick’s filled the room.   

Some things are burned into our memories - they might be a moment, a song, a place - in this instance it was the scent of Vick’s - and they transport us back in time.  The smell of Vick’s took me back to my childhood, and I could see a moment so clearly, a time when I had been sick and my Mom had rubbed some Vick’s on my throat and under my nose, and made me hot lemonade with honey and held my hand and told me I’d be feeling better soon.   

When it comes to my Mom any time I get to thinking about her inevitably the memories will bring me back to the one moment that I wish I could forget.  Unfortunately it is a moment scorched in my memory.  Some moments leave us irrevocably changed, and we carry them with us. Always. I’ve been carrying this moment with me for darn close to half of my life now.  I’d hoped that time would have helped the memory to fade some. But it hasn’t faded. Not even a little. 

I was with my Mom the night she left this world.  We all were. Me, Sis, my Nonna and my Dad were all with her when she passed.  There isn’t a single second of that night that I don’t remember in vivid detail. And those details are what I carry and what I wish would fade away into the background and not pop into my brain any time I remember my Mom.  If I’m completely honest, the problem isn’t so much with the memory of that night - the problem is with the feeling that took up residency in my heart when she departed. 

My mother was my person.  My rock.  I love my family, they are my most important people and I love them with all of my heart.  But my Mom...she and I had a bond, she always made me feel seen.  She knew I was suuuuuuuuper sensitive and she celebrated that and did her best to help me find a way to be in the world. And on the difficult days she would always hug me, tell me I was going to be ok and how much she loved me.  She taught me what unconditional love looks and feels like.  When she passed, something inside of me lost its way in this world.   

When she left, I no longer felt at home. Anywhere.  Six months after she died I moved in with my new boyfriend (who I would marry) and he and his family welcomed me into their home. It was a house filled with people who loved me, and I loved them back. But it never felt like home. I felt so very, very alone in that house.  

When I left and moved back home, back into the house I had grown up in, I felt very displaced. Some of the darkest, loneliest days of my life were spent in a place that no longer felt like home.  From there I would move out into an apartment that I really loved, but I knew it wasn’t my last stop, so I never really felt at home there either. After that I would I end up in the house I call “home” today, where I’m learning how to be a good roommate, when it’s cool to hang in the common areas and when it’s better if I retreat to my own spaces.  I’m happy and grateful to be here, it’s actually very cool because it’s often the singletons weekend place to hang.  And it’s cool to be around people I adore who are in a similar place in life.  There are often lots of people here and I still sometimes feel alone, and I also know this isn’t my last stop. 

I’d be lying if I said to you that I’m not terrified by the idea that “home” left me on the night my mother died and that I might never feel at home, ever again.  The truth is I may not.  What I can tell you is that I have found a way to be in this world and experience moments of serenity, of joy, of love, of laughter and of grace right along side that transient space that exists in my heart.  I’ve found a way of being at peace with the fact that sometimes I can be in a room filled with people - people I adore - I can be surrounded by them and feel so completely and utterly alone.  And on a different night, I can be surrounded by the same incredible people and feel connected and grateful for my peoples, for our time together, for life.  I experience both of those scenarios.  Regularly.  It’s just who I am. I live in the myriad of spaces between and including love and despair.  And I’m learning how to love those aspects of myself, kinda the way my Mom loved those things about me. 

Tonight I find myself firing up my humidifier, inhaling the scent of Vick’s and I’m missing my mother something fierce. I’m crying uncontrollably which is aggravating my asthma and making me choke and for an extra bit of fun my nose has begun bleeding. Nothing but good times going on here at the moment.  

Today was a less than stellar day. I feel like shit, I can’t wait for the meds to do their job and help me to be able to breathe like a normal person again.  But you know what? I’m ok.  This moment of sadness and breathing difficulties is going to pass, maybe in a minute, or an hour, or a day - not sure of the specifics but I do know it will pass.  So for right now, I’m going to grab a new box of tissues, turn on the celestial night light and look up at the stars on my ceiling. And just... 

Be here now. 

With of all of it.  Exactly as it is.  

Unconditionally. 

PS - the Lost Track tie in is this - the track Where Are You Now is about my last night with Mom.   

I’ve got a very curious brain that loves to learn and explore new ideas and that curiosity has taken me to more than a few interesting events over the years. 

Long long ago in the eighties there was something called EST training that later became The Forum. The training content piqued my interest but I was young and broke and couldn’t afford the cost of the seminars. However, as luck would have it one of the owners of the company I worked for at the time had taken the seminars and she was very passionate about sharing all she had gotten out of the training. She approached many of the employees and shared her experiences with them. One day when she and I were talking about the training and I was asking millions of questions about everything she asked me why I hadn’t signed up yet and I told her I couldn’t afford it.  

Guess what happened? Not only did this woman cover the costs of the first weekend retreat, she sent me to the advanced retreats as well. I will always be so grateful for her generosity and for the opportunity she gave me.  I can’t speak for anyone else who took these courses, but I can tell you for me, they were the catalyst for my lifelong inquiry into questioning how the mind works and how much influence our habitual thoughts may or may not have over our lives. And more importantly is it possible to escape what we think of as our “self” and change the direction of our lives?  

I think now would be a great time to mention that a few years back one of my BFFs told me he was going to an intro class on transcendental meditation and I immediately invited myself along. We sat through the intro then broke off to chat with the instructors one on one and met back up at the end of the night which is when I looked at him and said “my first class is tomorrow” I didn’t need any time to think anything over, I wanted to learn TM.  I’ve never regretted that choice or investment of time. I’ve explored various meditation methods over the years and TM was the one that really resonated with me, it’s super easy to drop into a place that defies explanation. And the more you do it the easier it becomes. Which brings me to the point in my telling you all of this...the unknown...and spending time there. 

Sometimes when I stop and look back over my life I see a repeating pattern, I see all the various activities I have stumbled across that help me to venture out into the unknown (if you struggle with the word unknown you can substitute collective consciousness, or unified field, or any name that you like to use for a place of connection, to a place where you lose the ego self and become something that is beyond definition - to be honest my personal favorite word for this place is Love, but at the end of the day all of the terms describe the same “place”).   

Over the years the more I tapped into this “place” of potential, the more often I would create something (ie poem, painting, song etc.) that didn’t make sense at the moment of creation, but would make sense later in time. So let’s back up a second, in the present moment, I created something that wouldn’t make sense to me until a future moment in time, and that future moment would include me looking back at my past creation which would suddenly make sense. So in a strange way the past, present and future all collided in the creation. Weird right? That’s the sort of weirdness that I find fascinating and have devoted much of my life to exploring.  

This is also why I frequently feel like I am dreaming out ahead of myself. I’ve learned to roll with this over the years, I’ve deliberately returned to the activities that help me to tap into that place that I think of as - the is, and isn’t yet. That place where I am nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I know, I know, I’m getting kinda out there. I like “out there” it’s where potential lives. It’s the place where I can lose my “self”.    

Here’s the things kids, in my experience finding my way and dropping into that mystical place of potential isn’t all that difficult, where it gets a little trickier for me is living from that place.  Sometimes I forget to do that. Ok fine. Most of the time I forget to do that.  My default state of fear and doubt takes over and if I’m not vigilant that’s the place I live from.  Of this much I am sure... I don’t want to live from a place of doubt and fear. 

Being out in nature is one of the ways I can easily disconnect from my default state and feel free.  I’ve spent the last two days outside, I’m on staycation and I’ve been out walking in the woods, living life at the speed of trees. Forest medicine is powerful stuff.  Very healing. This afternoon I walked along a path, listening to the sound of the brook, the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet, breathing in the scent of pine, watching the shadows grow as the sun slipped lower in the sky and just like that I was back. I had returned, to nowhere and everywhere. It’s from this place I dream out ahead of myself, it’s from this place I create. It’s how I got to where I find myself today. And so I’m going to renew my commitment to making time to drop into that field every single day. Returning again and again to that place of potential. It’s from that place that I wish to live and that I suspect is simply our (super) natural state of being.  

So I’m gonna wrap things up with this... there’s a new moon and it’s a rather warm November night so if you’ll excuse me I think I’m going to mosey on back outside, relish the feel of earth beneath my feet and meditate...

I don’t think people realize how much strength it takes to pull yourself out of a dark place mentally.  So if you’ve done that today or any day, I’m proud of you. 

I’d credit the author of the above if I knew them, but I don’t.  The above was something that someone posted today on Facebook.  I thought long and hard about commenting, but ultimately decided there was no way I could sum up my thoughts in a nice neat sound bite, and I feared “Amen” while heartfelt, could be misinterpreted as something unfeeling – which would be the furthest thing from my intent. 

Speaking of intent, when I first began blogging, it was my intention that what would begin as a musical blog would eventually transition over to becoming a blog about things that really mattered to me.  Not to suggest music doesn’t matter to me, it matters greatly to me, which is exactly my point.  Rather than tell you about how maddening I find mixing and bleed through click tracks it was my intention to write about things that I felt more deeply, thinks like - music has always been my life line, music has been my way to exorcise pain, great, vast (overwhelming at times) amounts of pain.   But it’s easier to stick with the lighthearted blogs because I have always worried that readers might not find the deep feely stuff as palatable as the lighthearted mixing issues. 

Which (sort of ) brings me back to the quote that was posted today.  The quote that made my stomach lurch when I read it, not because it made me feel pain – but because I have lived it and I understand it and mostly because someone I care very much about, posted it.  I took it as a sign that the blog in my head, needed to be written.   So…please bear with me as I jump around from subject to subject over the next few paragraphs, I have a point and I swear I will tie the topics together. 

This morning I ran into a coworker in the hallway, he is leaving the company and this Friday is his last day.  He also happens to be a very good friend of one of my stepsons, they grew up together and he was such a great kid – always liked him.  He grew into a good, kind, intelligent all round wonderful young man. So there we were walking together for a bit in the hallway, and I told him how sad I was that he was leaving but that I knew he was doing the right thing and was going to be a great success at his new job and he replied “I don’t know…” and he looked at me and that’s when I saw the question in his eyes and the doubt on his face which is when I found myself looking him right in the eye and saying with much conviction “I know you’re doing the right thing, and you are going to do great at your new job”. I meant what I said, and he knew it, and I watched relief spread across his face.  And then it was over – he went out to the floor and I went back to the office.  The conversation lasted for less than sixty seconds. And after I returned to my desk, I found myself thinking about our random hallway encounter and how sometimes the right words slip out of our mouths at the exact moment someone needs to hear them. 

I always think of these moments as brushing up against grace, when grace has used one of us to help another. Changing jobs after being with a company for a long time, leaving that familiarity and safety of the predictable – that’s some scary shit.  Grace arrives to tell us we’re not alone during scaring times like when we are starting over. 

Speaking of starting over….subject change – I really am going to tie this all together, be brave take the ride.  Anywhooo I was going through some music files tonight looking for what, I’m not entirely sure, but sometimes I peruse my “on deck” files to see which ones I want to queue up next to send off to my musical peeps for help with.  Sometimes that search spirals off into me looking through my archived music and tonight while exploring the archives I stumbled across two very old tracks, both had been contenders for the Love is Vicious CD.  One just missed the mark and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it and the other I had written way too late in the game to make it on the CD.  LIV was written and recorded in a six-month period.  Scotty was leaving the band, and I asked him if he would be willing to write and record one more CD before leaving.  I can hear sadness in the two tracks I listened to tonight, it was a very dark period in my life.  Scotty leaving was a huge blow, the night he quit he sat me down and very gently said to me “this is your dream Chris, not mine”.  Those words broke my heart and at the same time I wanted him to pursue his dreams and make the music that he was passionate about.  Holding both of those feelings in my heart, to me, was another moment of grace.  Grace is gritty and resilient – it’s whatever is needed in the moment.  After Scott left, I had to figure out a way to do more of the writing on my own, and that ultimately helped me to find my voice as a writer.  Sometimes grace is found in the unfolding of starting over.  Grace is found in the darkness of the unknown, it’s found in the “what the fuck am I going to do now” moments. 

Some of the worst “what now” moments happen during times of loss (hint: subject change).  I’ve spent the last few days thinking about grief.  Wondering if there is a way to let go of it, or if it’s just something that becomes a part of you, and if it is – is that a bad thing? The last nine years of my life, I’ve danced often with grief.  The end of a sixteen-year relationship is grief inducing, of the big time, mother load variety.  Pile on top of that the grief of losing people you love, in the same period I lost my grandmother, a cousin, an uncle and an aunt.  It’s so damn hard to lose people we love, and you know what I think might be even harder? Sitting with those left behind and seeing them in pain and being powerless to ease their grief.   

This past June during the service for my aunt, my cousin got up and gave a beautiful eulogy about his mother.  His words were deeply moving, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.  When he was done, I watched him walk back to his seat and sit down beside his wife, and then I watched them lean into each other.  I noticed his brother and his wife were leaning into each other, so was his sister and her partner.  I looked around the room and everyone was leaning into someone, and it broke my heart open and that’s when grace flooded in.  Grace leans in when the going gets hard, it’s the glue for the broken hearted.   

So, here’s where I’m going with all of this…pain and grief are what come with the experience of being human.  I also suspect that the more one pays attention, the more present a person is – the more likely they will be to feel pain, often.  Or maybe some of us just come into the world feeling things more deeply.  I’m not sure about any of it other than – there will be pain, and there will be grief they are part of being alive.  Yep, there is much pain in this human experience, which is why it’s so important to remember to be vigilant – to always be on the lookout for grace because there is also much grace in this life. 

I don’t think people realize how much strength it takes to pull yourself out of a dark place mentally.  So if you’ve done that today or any day, I’m proud of you. 

Grace helps us to pull ourselves up out of the darkness.  It shows up as the right words at the right time, it leans in providing strength, helping us to muster the courage to keep going, to try again, to start over, to learn how to live and grieve at the same time.  Sometimes it even shows up as a Facebook post, grace is scrappy like that.  It shows up in whatever way is necessary to help shine a light and let us know, we are not alone.  

The photo above always makes me laugh.  Laugh and wonder.   I wonder whose idea it was that I should be Amelia Earhart for Halloween.  I love that my parents went for it, but did they make the costume? Was it a neighbor or family members hand me down?  Mostly I wonder how far I got in that outfit, I mean really, how far could I have walked before growing tired of moving that clunky box around, and how the heck did I navigate the narrow stairwells leading up to people’s houses? I’ll never know the answers, and I’ll never know what made my parents choose that costume for me.  

So here I am, looking at picture of a younger me, thinking about choices and costumes and about the fact that I find myself at a point in life where I don’t feel like donning anymore (metaphorical) costumes, I choose to show up in the world as myself.  Which brings me to my point – choices and repercussions.  I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately and specifically about choices I made.  Thoughts spawned by the fact that last week I sat down in a room with a person from my past, and we amicably began the process of legally ending something that nine years ago I chose to walk away from.  I walked out one door, and then I chose to walk up to a new door marked “starting over” and I made yet another choice to open the door and walk through it. 

I’ve spent the last nine years living with and navigating all the repercussions those choices have brought.  I’ve spent the years learning what it means to start again, learning how to be alone and learning how to forgive myself for choosing what I wanted over what someone else wanted.  Somewhere along the way I arrived at the understanding that there is no escaping making choices, it’s part of the human experience.  Everything is inextricably connected which is both beautiful and very messy.  Like it or not I am always perpetually standing at a new door choosing either to stare at it, turn away from it or open it and walk through it - the choice is always mine to make.  Sometimes I’ll get it right, and sometimes I’m going to get it very, very wrong, there is no way around that fact.  The best I can do is to choose carefully, thoughtfully and then keep showing up and keep choosing.  The thing of it is, the choices I made nine years ago and all that I have made along the way have brought me to this moment in time when I made a choice to write this blog and to tell you that at the end of the day, I am just a girl, albeit one who is trapped in a 54 year old woman’s body, which at times is not unlike a big clunky box plane.  I’m just a girl who wonders sometimes how to navigate the world mindfully and with an open heart and how to be brave enough to walk up to new doors and choose to walk through them.  And like that version of me in the picture – I feel like I greet each day with a sort of half laughing, half what the heck am I doing kind of optimism. I’m grateful for each day, whatever it brings. 

Here’s the thing kids…I’ve made some new choices…. no more running, no more hiding, I’m not scared (oh alright fine, I’m a little scared) but you know what? I’m going to show up, heart on my sleeve (because I like it there) no costumes, what you see is what you get, and (should it open at some point) I’ve made a choice to walk through a new door and see where that takes me.

Tonight I find myself thinking about imagination. More specifically I am wondering if perhaps, I don’t have a very over-active imagination. 

I’m sitting on my porch, listening to the wind (freezing my ass off, damn it’s chilly) and in between shivers I’m questioning the story in my head, have I just been seeing what I want to see? The likelihood of strange coincidence is far greater than any explanation I’ve come up with and I’m wondering what exactly I am supposed to do with all of these thoughts in my head.  You know what I need ? A sign. An unmistakeable this is your sign - sign. 

I believe in signs and I ask the Universe for them all the time.  I ask for very specific things, like a purple car for example. I once asked as a sign, to see a purple car in a 24 hour window, and when I saw a purple Charger within that time frame, I immediately assumed it was a coincidence and asked to see a different model purple car the very next day. I don’t know about where you live but purple cars (real purple not that weird blue purple which I refer to as blurple) are pretty darn uncommon around here and I wondered about the odds of seeing two different models in a two day window? Turns out the odds are excellent. I was still skeptical that they were an actual sign so I asked for a completely different sign I asked for a pink car and if I saw that, then I would know it was my sign. 

Guess what I saw. 

Yep. Pink Jetta. Who knew? 

Here’s the thing, I primed my brain to see those cars.  I was looking for them. I wanted to see them. So I did. I get it, this is how the brain works. As an aside, and to be clear - I continued with my sign experimentation and I came up with the - two purple cars in a five minute period sign- experiment. It was my quirky attempt to be able to rule out coincidence and find proof of a real sign.  Honest to God, I couldn’t make something this ridiculous up, anywhooo I had a flat fixed recently and as I walked out of the station there blocking the route to my car was a purple Jeep. It pulled out of the lot I got in my car drove one minute up the road and stopped at the traffic light and what pulled up next to me but a purple Charger.  I’m now a believer.   

But I digress...where was I? Oh yes, my point... 

I need a sign. 

An unmistakeable, this is your sign - sign. 

Something that tells me it’s not just wishful thinking on my part, some kind of evidence letting me know that I am not the proud owner of the world’s most over active imagination. 

I need a sign. 

PS - this in no way counts as my sign but I do find it interesting at dinner tonight, while thinking about writing this blog (my first draft is always in my head) I happen to glance out the restaurant window and what caught my eye? A purple GT.  I’m sure it was just coincidence... 

One of the only things I’m certain of in life is this - I won’t make it out alive.  There is no escaping death and I consider myself very lucky to have made it this far, far too many people I have loved in this life never got to be as old as I am right now. 

Here’s the thing, the older I get the more deaths I will experience. There will be the “little” deaths like the death of wrinkle free skin, a good nights sleep, my Pollyanna like view of the world, there are all sorts of little deaths along the way. If I’m lucky enough to keep on living then there will also be more of the big losses, shake me to my core kind of losses, the kind that can make a complete mess of a person.  

It’s in the throes of that variety of loss, when I will need my people. Those amazing members of my tribe who show up for me in times of celebration and when the going gets rough.  The folks who lovingly stand beside me when I am lost in grief, snot running down my face eyes swollen shut from crying, knowing there isn’t a g’damn thing they can do to ease my pain but understanding the power of handing me a tissue. They will remain at my side while I clean myself up and get on with my life. They are the same peeps who will show up flashlight in hand for an unexpected dark night of the soul.  These are the people who walk beside me day in and day out bearing witness. And I do the same for them, we bear witness to each other.  That’s what it is to walk another home.  To what home do we go? I don’t know, but the right mix of people bearing witness to one another can figure it out right? 

A wise man recently said “think local, its global” he couldn’t be more right (to which I might add Camelot has always been and shall remain a state of mind).  Each and every one of us has the power to change things for the better. It starts within us and spreads out. If we want the world to be more loving, we must become more loving ourselves. Love is revolutionary that way. Wanna change the world? Heck yeah, let’s do this!  Me I’m going to keep showing up, backpack in hand (mine is filled with tissues, flashlights, love notes that I leave in random places for strangers to find, and snacks, one should always have snacks) and bear witness to family, friends and strangers alike.  This is what I can do, right here, right now. Love is the answer and I still believe it can make a difference.  Hmmm. Maybe my Pollyanna like view of the world lives on after all...