Archive for February, 2014

Righteous Perfection

Hey Buddy

That’s the way I wanted to address this when I was driving home from dance class.

Today was perfect. I typed 9 pgs worth of therapy. So much really valuable material. She’s a domestic violence specialist. She knows about abuse and abusers. She also knows the law. It’s great to get her perspective after sitting with certain issues all week. She’s challenging me to write the tough subjects. Huh? She says I’m ready. I’m not so sure about that but after seeing Russia’s fourth segment in the closing ceremony regaling so many of the writers they tortured/punished/jailed/and exiled when they were alive, I thought “Why not?” Russia said how proud they were of their literary past and how their writers really were the consciousness of their country, and most other countries don’t see their writers as the country’s conscience. Well, maybe I shouldn’t be afraid to say what I really want to say. What are they going to do? Jail me for being a truth teller?

It’s so funny when I get accused of lying because I out myself all the time to the people who matter, the ones who are wise and from whom I learn. I share my undergotchkees right up front. I know that’s not a word and I’m not sure what I should use instead. But in life most of us don’t want to share our vulnerabilities. We’ll do anything but that. But we’re all vulnerable and often with similar issues as the majority of others and we’re all hiding pretty much the same shi*.

So why was tonight perfect? I felt good getting all 9 pages typed. This was thick tough stuff and it was lots of verbatim, so going back and forth tedium was necessary on the recorder. It took discipline and focus. I’ve been thinking all week that I wanted to try to get myself back into the NIA dance class (a sensory-based movement practice) I started last February and loved so much for a few months. Every single week, during that key period of time, I got in there and worked out my stress/fear and the deeper emotions that were haunting me. But by April or May or maybe it was in June I was just too stressed with the cancer treatment and the rebel in me didn’t want to show up; move, stretch, and get the rage out. I just sat with it because everything was getting too scary for me at that time.

So at 5:55 I pull up behind E555MLY and park my car on Argonne. In my rear view mirror I see a little blonde girl skipping and dancing with her father in tow. It reminded me of that letter to my younger self I wrote for the MedQuery paid interview last month… about my happiest memory being when Dad took a movie of me walking (skipping) in front of his grandparent’s house. Where did I put that paragraph?

“I’m picturing you as I see you in the IT’S A GUEST FAMILY AFFAIR movie. You have on a white dress with puffy sleeves, white tights and black patent leather mary janes. You are skipping near the mailbox in front of Great Grandma Helen and Grandpa Bill’s house before they went into a rest home and died. You are probably between three and six years old. You come to my mind not because I think you’ll understand what I’m going to say but because when I see you walking with a little dance in your step, you were so happy then and seemingly in love with life and living.”

I immediately felt the happiness and the memory of the happiness. So of course I stopped to talk to the little girl, and her father. She wanted to show me how she could walk on top of a narrow brick wall. He was busy with a neighbor and a glass of wine. I told her I loved to see her dancing and skipping. I told him to take a movie of her dancing and skipping.

As I got to the main street the NIA teacher, Courtney, whom I haven’t seen since I stopped going last year was walking across the intersection. We come to each other with ease and grace. She remembered me and asked how I was doing. I told her I was finally ready to get back to class.

It was really tribal tonight. The music was perfect too. I wasn’t self critical nor was I in the emotional pain I’d been in last winter. I could see my grandmother, who never danced, in me in the mirror. I could also see the me who has always loved to dance. I stomped, I emoted, I got funky. One song, man, I just let it all out. I felt every inch of that song. I knew who I was dancing for and I was completely free. We all were. No one was watching anyone else. We were lost in our own ecstasy. I wasn’t inhibited or one bit self conscious. I was flow and movement and joy.

After class I got in the Eucalyptus steam room and sat in the sauna. A great peaceful piano piece I recognized but couldn’t name was quietly playing overhead. I showered and finished up with a cold flush. Then walking to the car I noticed Olive’s had a full house. Olive’s is a gourmet little market deli sandwich kind of place. I walked in to see what they were giving away for free.

This cool dude was right at the desk and he let me taste four sample spoonfuls of his Choctal Single-Origin Ice Creams. He was the CEO.

It was one of those nights being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.

The Blank Page

Power cuffs my besties gave me for my birthday!

Power cuffs my besties gave me for my birthday!


Hello Friend.
It’s been a long time since I’ve talked with you. My diary for many years was my best friend, and not an imaginary one. She also wasn’t demanding, critical, or judgmental. If I opened up enough, she shared back a deeper wisdom I couldn’t feel when distraught with emotions that caused me conflict or discomfort. Always, if I wrote long enough, her soothing comfort came through.

When I see people writing in private journals in coffee houses, waiting at the bus stop, when supposedly studying in the stacks, I get a jolt of renewed energy. There is a way of communicating with one’s self that illuminates all other relationships.

I don’t really sit by myself with a blank book these days, because in the past 14 years I’ve learned to pour it out on the computer. I haven’t been pouring out much lately. First there was someone who felt threatened when I had to sit at the computer. He needed all my love and devotion. I’d long before married the part of me that writes, with no guarantee that it would ever be published or support me in my real world. I just knew that I had to be solid with self before I could ever commit to another.

Add to that the threat and terror of the C word… and four years have whooshed by in a frenzy. I’ve hardly been myself.

But I’m returning now to this blank page. This past week SPIRIT set up a conundrum of past or future with which I must decide now which direction I’m going. I’ve never wanted to relive the past. Seriously. Usually it is easy for me to let sleeping dogs lie. I learned what there was to learn and the next experience showed up as if on cue.

Yet, a vindictive voice tried to quell my authenticity. I’ve been accused of doing things I didn’t do, and when I admitted what I did do, it was thrown all out of proportion. This last week I thought I needed new brake pads. Put them on and two days later the grinding noise is back. Apparently, the inconsistent noise probably has to do with my back brakes.

So spirit pointed out that I was in danger. For doing what I thought was a good deed, one that certainly came from a heart of forgiveness and peace, yet I received a legal threat from one whom is cherished. A day later, another one whom is cherished gave me an opportunity to move forward in a field that is my preference. Two days after that Pearl called to remind me of what trouble I’ll be in if I ever go near a certain street in my own town. The next day I drove to Pearl street in a different town and listened to a lecture that calmed my physical threat.

This makes no sense to anyone but myself, but since this is my private blank page, all I’m really saying is I’m done with the past and moving straight into my future. I don’t need anyone or anything that is not mine. I never did. That’s why I let it go when it was mine.

Yes, I’m human. But I deeply respect boundaries others place in their lives and I’ve meant no harm after formal boundaries were in tact. I sent a gift. End of story. It won’t happen again. For those I’ve loved before, I’m truly happy they are healthy and receiving everything they pressured me to give them, but I couldn’t and therefore refused them, thus hurting them irreparably as I keep being none-too-quietly reminded. Let us all be in our happy place without any disrespect or hard feelings.

A whole new chapter is opening up for these blank pages here. I’m starting a program that will reconnect me to my main story line. The previous blogs on here are all in alignment with where I’ll be going.

What is most amazing to me is this. Even though in the moment, there is fear and trepidation, when I breathe beyond those emotions and just let what is flowing through me out, there is nothing I’m later embarrassed by. I’ve meant no one harm. I’ve not meant to expose anyone else. I was merely trying to understand a dynamic that is never taught in school, on the job, or in real life. Yet, it very much is real life. The dynamics of the brain Dr. Helen Fischer writes about when affected deeply by romantic love, sexual drive, and affectionate companionship. All three parts of relationships affect different hormones within us. I was just grappling with the intensity of it all, what I felt and what it meant. Having written the book put my own personal lessons into place. They might not help others who know everything about themselves and have no room for anything but the rigid lessons they were taught when young. It was only after the book was published that the lessons really locked into place.

I knew in between treatments I needed to write this for myself. I needed to understand my relationships with men that caused me pain and why I kept repeating unhealthy patterns. Now that I can see so clearly what wasn’t made clear to me when swallowed up in the fear of my own cancer and what that would mean to my life, I can see the gift and the curse of that which before just completely befuddled me. It will be fun to cut down to size that which I couldn’t see clearly previously. Plus, the book will be much easier to read because it won’t be so heavy.