Surrounded by Recovery 2016 on 9 News

missing

 

I have decided to move on from blogger. it has been a friend for many years, but my belief is that wordpress will offer new advantages and challenges.

please look for future posts at www.afterthepop.wordpress.com

The Boy from OZ Once Before I Go Hugh Jackman

vagabond superstar

There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills.
Buddha.

firstly, ii would request that all readers also read mark olmsted’s blog regarding the passing of phillip seymour hoffman at question marxist. mark olmsted – aka the trash whisperer- touches on the very core of a major challenge with living in recovery- emotional sobriety. people with addictions – both active and arrested- remains the most complicated and treacherous path that I have walked and that those ii walk with encounter.

 

What is the appropriate behavior for a man or a woman in the midst of this world, where each person is clinging to his piece of debris? What’s the proper salutation between people as they pass each other in this flood?
Buddha.

there are moments in which the clarity and cruelty of feeling are so uber-pronounced and omnipresent that frozen only begins to describe the fear and uncertainty that follow. sometimes an exchange of words or ideas will give a glimpse of unknowing that feels just like the chill of a visiting spirit. someone may something to me that ii am not clear how to take and ii will panic- not because of what was said, but more because of the not knowing how to proceed.

it may turn out that I struggle with emotionality for the rest of my days. it gets easier and the frightful crazy part lasts shorter periods of time. but as mark olmsted points out, it is not how we feel that creates problems, but more how we think we should feel.

Emotional Management

There is no feeling without a thought. There is no feeling or thought without a corresponding physical response. We are not many. We are one.

It is a mistake for any of us to so divide ourselves into segments that we lose the sense of ourselves as holistic beings. There is no thought without a feeling. However by singling out a specific aspect of how we as people function, in this case the emotions, specific care can be given on that aspect. Feelings have the power to both take us to heaven and pitch us into hell. Feelings are perfectly capable of telling us the saving truth as well as sending us on the road to destruction. Feelings are powerful. As with all powerful things the task is to control and manage that power so it works to the person’s benefit.

Feelings must be understood for what they are and where they originate if the person experiencing them is to gain a life of sobriety, balance and serenity.

Topics covered in our various products dealing with emotional management:

• Understanding the anatomy of emotions
• Learning to feel long repressed feelings
• Discerning if the feeling is telling us a useful truth
• Not allowing feelings to be the sole dictator of behavior
• Steps to gaining emotional management
• words and thoughts by ernie larsen

lone survivor

 

a friend and ii went to see “lone survivor” yesterday on the big screen (thankfully). it was definitely a bracing experience. ii’m sure there have been enough reviews written about its being based on a true story by the survivor of a mission in afghanistan although ii haven’t ready any of them. ii saw a short trailer of the actors- mark wahlberg, taylor kitsch, ben foster, and emile hirsch along with the director speaking with the author and main character marcus lattrell in a loft somewhere and ii was hooked.

ii have absolutely no desire to compare marcus’ traumatic and heroic journey to any other specifically. his abilities, determination, ingenuity, grace, and most of all his bravery are a gift he continues to share with us through his tale and his living. the human spirit that carries us along the thread of this life is so often much more resilient than our egos every allow us to be. in my opinion this is the case with marcus’ journey.

his story left me speechless (or speckless as someone had posted on facebook) with awe and humility and not at all sure of my real ability to keep trudging forward in the face of this level of adversity. there seemed to be a few layers to this story, but the intimacy of friendship and family leaps out front. our hearts adapt and change to mirror our circumstances and ii never realized what a survival mechanism this is. becoming a part of the military sector requires adaptation in order to stay alive. training is hard, but it is only practice for the actual work which can be both waiting and actual combat. ii walk from the theater quietly back to my life, but this film and it’s stories remain running in the background of my mind.

the glaring hypocrisy involved in the national mindset around how much we ask of them and how little in comparison we are willing to give them after they have given me a fresh perspective on my own participation in my own views. ii don’t believe ii have ever contemplated this with required focus.

then there is the monolithic trauma that is depicted here. my belief is that the actual event involved much more hypervigilence, fear, and confusion that was able to be captured on film. those emotions and the chemicals that race through our bodies and its receptors leave a deep dark impression like a large lightning strike on the landscape which may take the remainder of a lifetime to get beyond.

littrell’s telling of this story is one way he has addressed his demons created on that mountain on the other side of our world. my heart, our lives, and hopefully his- are stronger and wiser because of it. lone survivor – marcus littrell, his journey, his book, and the film feel like a quietly immense and abundant gift. 

 

 

12 years a slave is a metemorphosis

These people live again in print as intensely as when their images were captured on old dry plates of sixty years ago... I am walking in their alleys, standing in their rooms and sheds and workshops, looking in and out of their windows. Any they in turn seem to be aware of me.
Ansel Adams

 

i saw the film “12 years a slave” yesterday and was (and am still) completely gob smacked at its intense beauty and the ferocious and insipidly ignorant evil that weaves through it like a poison gas. the images of beatings, ownership, and poverty still haunt me like a thousand bites of bayou mosquitoes.

when ii was in my late teens, ii read “metamorphosis” by franz kafka which had a similar effect on my heart as well. as ii watched the lead character solomon northup rolling on the floor of the dark dank cellar trying to maneuver with his newly acquired leg irons, ii was reminded of gregor samsa on his bed the morning he woke in the body of a cockroach. he attempted to roll to and fro on his bed just as our hero did.

this similarity caused me to ponder the arc of these characters and perhaps the universal quality that both these stories portray. in no way do ii mean to make light of mr. northup’s situation or journey. quite the contrary actually- it was nothing less than heroic. ii remain awestruck at his ability to remain peaceful amidst such violence and strife. it is a serenity ii may only strive for.

but there is a universality to these written journeys of transformation. life does have a way of landing a house on top of us without our permission or knowing and often we find ourselves thrown into situations that we had no awareness or agreement with. yet it is our path to either survive or surrender. and often- as with our northup character he did both which in buddhist lore is how we find our answers.

there may not be a bigger than life character offered up in film this year. solomon northup’s heart and courage exceed any ii have seen to date. it is not a loud and bombastic cinematic offering with special effects and layered soundtrack. it is at once a small quiet story that screams for retribution and justice to the inner workings of our souls.

this film should be seen by the entirety of our nation and placed in the classrooms followed by discussions. there is human nature represented here that would benefit us all if it were aired out to dry and put on display.

make it an imperative to see this film.

wrecking ball

 

ii found myself eerily feeling violated yesterday as a group ii was involved with finished up. it was a full group and was the final get together for this particular group of individuals. my cellphone was sitting on the table we sat around, someone picked it up and said “whose is this?” ii informed them it was mine and asked to please leave it as ii would retrieve it at the end of group. at the end however, the phone was gone. it required me to call the phone company, call the insurance company, call the people with whom ii had plans later, and drive home to retrieve a second phone then drive to the phone provider to see if they could activate the older phone temporarily.

all the while, ii found myself wondering who was sending me this silent message. concurrently, ii felt that because ii have been working on interventions to interrupt some subtle pharmaceutical (and non) exchanges going on, ii have prolly been creating some animosity. there ii was- at the end of this 12th session ii had spent with most of these people and my cell phone had been lifted. ii am not as savvy as ii like to see myself. ii am not as respected as ii would like to be. ii still have much work to do.

 

flash

image credit… www.alexibsen.com

one of my good friends moved from colorado to philadelphia 2 years ago. every once in a while i realize that i miss him madly still. he sent a link to his most recent work and ii have posted a few that struck a chord within me. i love that his eyes see things so very differently than i.

“When you open yourself to the continually changing, impermanent, dynamic nature of your own being and of reality, you increase your capacity to love and care about other people and your capacity to not be afraid. You're able to keep your eyes open, your heart open, and your mind open. And you notice when you get caught up in prejudice, bias, and aggression. You develop an enthusiasm for no longer watering those negative seeds, from now until the day you die. And, you begin to think of your life as offering endless opportunities to start to do things differently.”
― Pema Chödrön, Practicing Peace in Times of War

 

 

bleep

My religion is based on truth and non-violence. Truth is my God

. Non-violence is the means of realising Him.

Mahatma Gandhi

it is martins day of remembrance today. his work has influenced my life in so many ways. miraculously though, his peaceful approach has left a more deafening impact on our world than a war may have done. when a man is able to contain his emotions and channel them to build people up in opposition of the usual tearing them down, it is nothing short of a miracle. remaining with love against adversity is something i have have not achieved. i hope some day i am able to do just that.

Integrated Bus Suggestions

This is a historic week because segregattion on buses now been declared unconstitu¬tional. Within a few days the Supreme Court Mandate will reach Montgomery and you will be re-boarding integrated buses. This places upon us all a tremendous responsibility of maintaining, in face of what could be some unpleasantness, a calm and loving dignity befitting good citizens and members of our Race. If there is violence in word or deed it must not be our people who commit it.

For your help and convience the following suggestions are made. Will you read, study and memorize them so that our non-violent determination may not be endangered. First, some general suggestions:

1. Not all white people are opposed to integrated buses. Accept goodwill on the part of many.

2. The whole bus is now for the use of all people. Take a vacant seat.

3. Pray for guidance and commit yourself to complete non-violence in word and action as you enter the bus.

4. Demonstrate the calm dignity of our Montgomery people in your actions.

5. In all things observe ordinary rules of courtesy and good behavior.

6. Remember that this is not a victory for Negroes alone, but for all Montgom¬ery and the South. Do not boast! Do not brag!

7. Be quiet but friendly; proud, but not arrogant; joyous, but not boistrous.

8. Be loving enough to absorb evil and understanding enough to turn an enemy into a friend.

NOW FOR SOME SPECIFIC SUGGESTIONS:

1. The bus driver is in charge of the bus and has been instructed to obey the law. Assume that he will cooperate in helping you occupy any vacant seat.

2. Do not deliberately sit by a white person, unless there is no other seat.

3. In sitting down by a person, white or colored, say "May I" or "Pardon me" as you sit. This is a common courtesy.

4. If cursed, do not curse back. If pushed, do not push back. If struck, do not strike back, but evidence love and goodwill at all times.

5. In case of an incident, talk as little as possible, and always in a quiet tone. Do not get up from your seat! Report all serious incidents to the bus driver.

6. For the first few days try to get on the bus with a friend in whose non-violence you have confidence. You can uphold one another by a glance or a prayer.

7. If another person is being molested, do not arise to go to his defense, but pray for the oppressor and use moral and spiritual force to carry on the struggle for justice.

8. According to your own ability and personality, do not be afraid to experi¬ment with new and creative techniques for achieving reconciliation and social change.

9. If you feel you cannot take it, walk for another week or two. We have confidence in our people. GOD BLESS YOU ALL.

THE MONTGOMERY IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATION 

THE REV. M. L. KING, JR., PRESIDENT

THE REV. W. J. POWELL, SECRETARY

memorabilia

I may be soft, I made the top, I like my cabaret non-stop,

It may be erotic, it may be ecstatic

With it down on your floor or in your attic.

You take it low or shut our eyes, and let our love materialise,

And I don't mean love on a chocolate box, I mean the love that really rocks

I say call me the baby, the good time lady,

Just look at me and it's easy to see why they call me Cindy Ecstasy.

Because I've got the eyes, the where's, the why's to make your love thing really

Rise,

You don't need your speed or your pair of wheels.

You've got the prize that will brighten your skies.

So look me up and I'll tell no lies,

Coz I'm the lady with the hot surprise,

If you don't believe me, ask Soft Cell, because I shook them up and I gave

Them hell.

So Call up Cindy Ecstasy if you're looking for a memory

Memorabilia...memorabilia

it's been an interesting week within an interesting month which makes for an interesting beginning to the year. i have passed through an uneasy time at my workplace and let go of a position that no longer felt healthy. i have passed through some financial stressors and can see an end to some challenges in that realm.  i almost rushed into another project, but pulled back at the last minute-deciding i should walk the idea around the block a few more times before i committed to purchasing. 

i must say that this week, this day, this friday evening finds me quite content. as i shred my work clothes just after arriving home, it occurred to me how much in my life has changed. for most of my years, i have never been able to sit home, let alone spend time by myself. yet at this juncture, i find spending time alone at home a very beautiful and happy thing. it speaks volumes to the affects of recovery to my sense of self. and i can clearly declare that i am quite satisfied with this shift.

i was listening to a remix of a sharon redd tune on soundcloud today and it took me back to when i was working at medusa's- sharon redd came to perform- 1984 i think. she had a hit record "can you handle it" at the time. she was an enigma to me. she had come to know success by that time in her life. she had been "discovered" working for bette midler as a harlette and then sang back up for a coupla more front divas before she got her own contract. she had a hit "beat the street" and then put out a few more records. this is about the time she came to medusa's. the big surprise was what we shared in common at that time. she was an uber-coke user. she freebased. i snorted. but we got blasted that whole evening. she had blasted so far outa this atmosphere that she built a structure of lawn chairs on the 3rd floor and hid behind them so she would feel safer. her boyfriend/manager came to collect her at the end of the evening and she hid behind the chairs and didn't want to leave. i can remember the awkward quality of that morning to this day. i never saw her again. we did not become friends. we just got blasted together in a quirk and the drifted. she passed away from aids-related pneumonia in 1992. 

as i wrote that last paragraph, i realize that there are so many facets and flavors in that paragraph that characterize several years of my life. over using, drifting, music, blasted,. enigma, fear- i could go on. of course there were other aspects to my life too, but i really know that part of me was caught up and blinded by a combination of a dance beat, denial, and addiction- all collaborating to change the way i felt. truthfully, in the 80's and 90's i had stumbled into a conveyer belt of some kind leading to today. damn i wanted to figure out a way out.

on monday i had 3 teeth pulled. i could have prolly had 2 crowns put in, but at my age and considering the cost, it seemed more practical to just exorcise them. i feel a bit naked in spots today. i will have a bridge built and slip something where there is now nothing and smile a little easier then. considering the sugar addiction, the 33 years of tobacco, coffee, and teeter-totter of vodka-scotch, it's a wonder i haven't lost more. still as i saw them being hoisted from my mouth, i felt a sense of loss and circumstance. i will not see them or use them ever again.

i had lunch with a friend today at work. she and i reminisced about some time passed and spent more time sharing observations about how things are now. the whole lunch fed my soul. she is emerging from a surgery which kept her at home for about 6 weeks. her recovery is slow, and seems to be keeping her in gratitude amid the fragile qualities that are life. our discussions lent themselves to what seems to be the focus of our days and efforts. and it's nice to have a cheerleader. and i hope i can be one also.

this morning i walked up to work while it was still dark. i got met with a big glass of insanity being splashed in my face likea slushee on glee. then a second splash came my way right after that. and all before i got into the building. sometimes i am not quite ready to help someone self-soothe. sometimes like today. although i work with many folks who have little or no self-soothing skills and have often felt ambushed before i get into the building, have a coffee, or get to set my bag down. it's a strange circular dance i engage in. again and again and again. i try to set boundaries. i try to slip in quietly. i try to ready. still too often i am approached before i feel ready and then try to dry off the slushee feeling for the next hour or so. without question there is a part of me that feels put upon. but the flipside is that i am lucky anybody wants to speak with me at all. there were times, many times, that there wasn't a voice within earshot that was meant for me. no i need to be okay with feeling invaded and then remembering that it's only a feeling. and feelings are not facts.

went to see august:osage county today. wow- was that a challenging experience. hard really. there were snippets of me, certainly snippets of family members, and swatches of addiction reality that cold-cocked me in the throat. it wasn't the gut-punching or kicking as i had found "requiem for a dream". osage county was more like a super 8 home movie that i didn't even know existed before this- and all the scenery is remembered, but i can't believe that's how we actually looked. this film had me peering in through the windows of my memory with a real fear that i would be found out. i tried hard not to make a sound, lest the anger i witnessed would be directed my way. i teared up a few times, mostly when the characters were talking gently about the dead dad.  this film left a strong taste in my mouth. i may have to go back in and get more.

i found this version of soft cell's "memorabilia" on soundcloud. it sparked the title for this post. i remember dancing to this- or body rocking really- at an after hours club in chicago called columns. it was on south michigan avenue. the crew i hung with in those days used to go there after the bars closed. my friend katie and i used to frequent the place. i met my best friend blue at columns. he was an odd duck then- still is actually. he was wearing a scottish purse on his head as a hat the first day we spoke. we walked home from columns north along the lake and forged the framework of a friendship that has lasted over 30 years. after hours clubs were just getting started in our town then.

i collect
 i reject....
 memorabilia....

preparation

A Pile of Dry Shit

One day a famous government officer met a highly respected edlerly master. Being conceited, he wanted to prove that he was the superior person.As their conversation drew on, he asked the master, "Old monk, do you know what I think of you and the things you said?"

The master replied, "I don't care what you think of me. You are entitled to have your own opinion."The officer snorted, "Well, I will tell you what I think anyway. In my eyes, you are just like a pile of dry shit!"The master simply smiled and stayed quiet.

Seeing that his insult had fallen into deaf ears, he asked curiously, "And what do you think of me?"

The master said, "In my eyes, you are just like the Buddha."Hearing this remark, the officer left happily and bragged to his wife about the incident.His wife said to him, "You conceited fool! When a person has a heart like a pile of dry shit, he sees everyone in that light. The elderly master has a heart like that of the Buddha, and that is why in his eyes, everyone, including you, is like the Buddha!"

i find myself in the planning stage of change as the days once again begin the trek to get longer. i have been considering some options for the next project to dive into. part of me wonders whether i should just take a break, but i am not sure that is how i roll anymore. i can take a break when i'm dead. i would like to fuel and flame some passion in my life. and i would love the opportunity to continue to have conversations about recovery. not my recovery any more, but recovery in general- and why it is that the concept of recovery is not the first thing or even the 100th thing that people expect when the topic of addiction or illness comes up. it seems to me that our collective perspective on addiction and mental illness could be characterized as a pile of dry shit. but i hope to remind us that there is a something just like a buddha among us- recovery.

A New Recovery Advocacy Movement 

William L. White & Pat Taylor 

People in recovery from addiction, their families, friends and allies are on the 

move. Some are calling on mayors, governors and legislators to change policies to make 

it possible for people to get needed treatment and recovery support services. Others are 

joining National Alcohol and Drug Addiction Recovery Month celebrations that draw 

tens of thousands of people and extensive media coverage. 

Local communities of recovery are organizing and sharing ideas, resources and 

experiences. A grass roots media campaign (see www.recoveryiseverywhere.org) is 

countering stigma and putting a positive face on recovery. A network of thousands of 

recovery homes is spreading rapidly to small towns and large cities. Recovery High 

Schools are flourishing, as are special programs for the growing number of recovering 

people entering or returning to college. Innovative peer-based recovery support services, 

ranging from Recovery Support Centers to growing networks of recovery coaches are 

testimony to new creative solutions to addiction. Something is happening in our 

communities -- a renewed spirit of service and activism that has been christened the New 

Recovery Advocacy Movement. 

Faces & Voices of Recovery, the National Council on Alcoholism and Drug 

Dependence, the Legal Action Center, the Johnson Institute, the Center for Substance 

Abuse Treatment’s Recovery Community Services Program grantees such as White 

Bison, Association of Persons Affected by Addiction (APAA) and Connecticut 

Community for Addiction Recovery (CCAR) and hundreds of new grassroots recovery 

community organizations are all part of this exciting movement. Recovering people are 

collaborating with visionary professionals to communicate to the world that addiction 

recovery is a reality for millions of people and their families. This movement is calling 

for a vanguard of recovering people.... www.facesandvoicesofrecovery.org

2013 gave me a big hug

with gratitude to ddmag.tumblr.com

“One evening Milarepa returned to his cave after gathering firewood, only to find it filled with demons. They were cooking his food, reading his books, sleeping in his bed. They had taken over the joint. He knew about nonduality of self and other, but he still didn’t quite know how to get these guys out of his cave. Even though he had the sense that they were just a projection of his own mind—all the unwanted parts of himself—he didn’t know how to get rid of them. So first he taught them the dharma. He sat on this seat that was higher than they were and said things to them about how we are all one. He talked about compassion and shunyata and how poison is medicine. Nothing happened. The demons were still there. Then he lost his patience and got angry and ran at them. They just laughed at him. Finally, he gave up and just sat down on the floor, saying, “I’m not going away and it looks like you’re not either, so let’s just live here together.” At that point, all of them left except one. Milarepa said, “Oh, this one is particularly vicious.” (We all know that one. Sometimes we have lots of them like that. Sometimes we feel that’s all we’ve got.) He didn’t know what to do, so he surrendered himself even further. He walked over and put himself right into the mouth of the demon and said, “Just eat me up if you want to.” Then that demon left too.” 

― Pema Chödrön, Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living

the last weekend of 2013 felt like a fog lifted from around my brain. i encountered so many of the people close to me in my life and i was afforded the chance to feel love. as i think back to the beginning of the year, one seed i had planted was to make room for love in my life- and bang zoom (ralph cramdon) there it was- more love in my life. 

as my life continues to unfold, i am gobsmacked by the power of simplicity. this year- for the holiday-i gave of myself in some quietly amazing ways. i helped throw a fete for a women and family services program and coordinated a santa, a photograph of kids on santa's lap, kid's decorating home-made ornaments for their family, several volunteers, and gifts from toys for tots as well as a generous donation from a local engineering firm. all of this required detail and attention, but left me with a holiday feeling that will last for some time. the cliche about the holidays being about the kids was forged in truth for me again and again on that day.

beyond this, i came home to find that my cousin and her family dropped by my house and constructed a kitchen cart i had here-to-fore been unable to put together. when i came through the door, i felt just as surprised and elated as the shoemaker must have felt after the elves had slid down that moonbeam to create those oodles of shoes. this was humbly followed by several friends treating me to dinner the weekend between the holidays. i have honestly felt in possession of a bounty.

"Helping others is the foundation stone of your recovery. A kindly act once in a while isn't enough. You have to act the Good Samaritan every day, if need be. It may mean the loss of many nights' sleep, great interference with your pleasures, interruptions to your business. It may mean sharing your money and your home, counseling frantic wives and relatives, innumerable trips to police courts, sanitariums, hospitals, jails and asylums. Your telephone may jangle at any time of the day or night."AA, 2001, p. 97

rock skate bounce roll

“Though lovers be lost, love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.” 

― Dylan Thomas

with the winter holidays in full swing and the end of near nigh, i am confronted with the reality of having lost inspiration with an effort that has been going for about 5 years now. i got to provide energy which became instrumental in forming a peer-led organization that meant to address stigma for people living with hiv- head on. i started a newsletter that has been published quarterly for all those years- being placed in clinics around the state showing newly diagnosed individuals that living with hiv was not only possible but both practical and profitable- ergo one can live a much more enjoyable and well-rounded life with good health and steady income-additionally one can learn about living with hiv by working with others who are struggling.

somewhere along the way, i became disenchanted with the federal and state systems that are funded to provide services for hiv positive individuals. other than the 1st issue of this newsletter, there has only been 1 offer of financial assistance to this publication-(although a link to our site is provided on their website) and this was never followed up on, nor were we given the courtesy of a phone call to explain why. the city receives over 6M annually to serve persons living with HIV and not only did a peer publication never receive funding, getting any information to use for publication was like pulling impacted teeth. However, there is plenty of energy to squabble internally amongst the city hiv office and the planning council to hold up the funds for 2013 by cancelling all  monthly scheduled public meetings and involving federal representations to help settle internal disputes- with all of this disagreement and discord being about personalities and not policies. 

so not only do persons living under the poverty level have no visible and emotionally present representation, those living on the fringe and the outskirts of metropolitan areas continue to not receive copies of our newsletters because the city and the state don't deem it important while annually thousands of dollars are spent educating new case managers and providers most of whom are on a turnstile with their careers and hiv is simply a stop. can you feel my frustration here that those who will be living with hiv for the rest of their journey here are passed up to throw education and support to those who are just passing through (and already earn a paycheck)? GRRRRRRR

i find myself tired of this incongruity. i am well aware of hypocrisy and i am certain i have my own. but the audacity of the hiv office's disregard for the spirit of its general mission has turned into a toad.

beyond this is our organization. with the onset of successful treatment modalities and the transition towards the american care act, most of the underprivileged people with hiv will qualify for medicaid and not need the array of special services. our mission to normalize living with a health condition becomes prime for transition as well. since i have been working in substance abuse field for almost a decade now, i find that hiv is no longer the issue it was in our community. yes way too many gay men (and others) are being diagnosed. but this is not the problem as i see it. hiv diagnoses are just a symptom of the problem- mental health and substance abuse. but this is not something we as a community (or culture) are ready to begin discussing with compassion and objectivity. 

this is my frustration at the end of 2013 and one of the flags i will be waving in the years to come. i am more interested in beginning conversations about self-care, mental health, and shame-based trauma. yes safe sex conversations are appropriate, but healthy boundaries and saying "no" to one's self hold more intrigue for me now. in looking up quotes to place under my 70's roller skating photo for this post, i realize that although i am no longer impassioned by the last 5 years, i am certainly grateful for them.  i don't know if i will leave our hiv organization, but i have to find different involvement and feel strongly that its mission needs to modify drastically in order to even strive to be relevant. 

if i am honest, part of my passion comes through creating change and developing processes. it sounds so geeky, (prolly is), but that's the truth. i have been able to be involved in creating change in my community, albeit small, and that has been a complete blessing.  and i hope for more blessings in my life and in yours.

i wanted some old school today- this is an unknown mix with a couple of crash-y edits, but i do like the 70's vibe. 

holiday musing and darkside -live in paris

There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.

Charles Dickens

i simply want to wish any and all of my readers a festive holiday season. i continue to receive the benefits of making change in my life through my moods and my experience. my self-respect grows, and my ability to care for others increases with the practice i put into it. 

festival of light

i thought i would just share some short stories that have the winter solstice as a theme. somehow it has never really occurred to me until now, just how dark these last few weeks in december are and how important and affective the symbolic lighting of the trees and the bringiing in the light of stories and fables about the best in us- the kindness in us, and the giving qualities that almost all of us possess- when we are giving we are far less likely to be dwelling on other emotions. 

The Story of Santa Lucia

(There are several versions of the story of Lucia but this is a nice one!)

Lucia was an Italian girl, born in Sicily in the 3rd century A.D. It was a time when the Romans were persecuting Christians, and Lucia's family was Christian. When her father died, Lucia vowed to remain unmarried and to serve God, but since she didn't tell anyone about this vow, her widowed mother went ahead and promised her in marriage to a suitor who was not a Christian. Lucia said no thanks, I'd rather be an old maid, and she proceeded to give her dowry away to the poor. The young man's pride was severely injured, so he reported Lucia to the Roman authorities and she was tried and convicted of being a Christian. The judge decided that a suitable punishment for a woman who wanted to remain chaste was to be sold into slavery - to a brothel. But when the soldiers came to take her away, they were unable to move her! Rather than being awed by this, they proceeded to pour oil over her and set her on fire. The oil burned - Lucia did not! Still unimpressed, the soldiers beat and tortured her and tried to get her to deny her Christian faith, but she refused. So they stuck a sword into her throat and that did kill her. She died a martyr's death on December 13, 304 A.D. For her faithfulness, she was made a saint. 

How did a Sicilian saint become a part of Swedish tradition? Legend has it that back in the Middle Ages, the Swedish province of Varmland was experiencing a terrible famine and people were starving to death. On the longest night of the shortest day of the year - which also happened to be St. Lucia's Day, December 13th - a light suddenly appeared on Lake Vanern. It was a large white boat filled with food, and at the helm was a beautiful young woman in a white gown wearing a crown of lights. Lucia had come to rescue the Swedes! As soon as the ship was unloaded, it disappeared.

Swedish custom is that on Santa Lucia Day, mother and children get up very early in the morning to make the traditional Lussekatter (rolls made with saffron) and Luciapepparkakor (ginger cookies). The oldest daughter portrays Lucia dressed in a long white robe with a red sash with a crown of lit candles on her head. She carries the tray of food as she leads the procession of mother and the other children who sing the traditional Santa Lucia song as they march to the father's room. 

Traditionally, the winner of the Noble Prize in Literature has the supreme honor of crowning Stockholm's Santa Lucia. Traditionally, miracles can happen at midnight on the eve of St. Lucia's Day and animal may talk. Traditionally, the cook buries the lutefisk in beech ashes on St. Lucia's Day. You don't have to be Swedish to celebrate Santa Lucia - Lucia wasn't a Swede! Välkommen! Varsågod!

THE TAIL

There is a story about a princess who had a small eye problem that she felt was really bad. Being the king's daughter, she was rather spoiled and kept crying all the time. When the doctors wanted to apply medicine, she would invariably refuse any medical treatment and kept touching the sore spot on her eye. In this way it became worse and worse, until finally the king proclaimed a large reward for whoever could cure his daughter. After some time, a man arrived who claimed to be a famous physician, but actually was not even a doctor.

He declared that he could definitely cure the princess and was admitted to her chamber. After he had examined her, he exclaimed, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" "What is it?" the princess inquired. The doctor said, "There is nothing much wrong with your eye, but there is something else that is really serious." The princess was alarmed and asked, "What on earth is so serious?" He hesitated and said, "It is really bad. I shouldn't tell you about it." No matter how much she insisted, he refused to tell her, saying that he could not speak without the king's permission.

When the king arrived, the doctor was still reluctant to reveal his findings. Finally the king commanded, "Tell us what is wrong. Whatever it is, you have to tell us!" At last the doctor said, "Well, the eye will get better within a few days - that is no problem. The big problem is that the princess will grow a tail, which will become at least nine fathoms long. It may start growing very soon. If she can detect the first moment it appears, I might be able to prevent it from growing." At this news everyone was deeply concerned. And the princess, what did she do? She stayed in bed, day and night, directing all her attention to detecting when the tail might appear. Thus, after a few days, her eye got well.

This shows how we usually react. We focus on our little problem and it becomes the center around which everything else revolves. So far, we have done this repeatedly, life after life. We think, "My wishes, my interests, my likes and dislikes come first!" As long as we function on this basis, we will remain unchanged. Driven by impulses of desire and rejection, we will travel the roads of samsara without finding a way out. As long as attachment and aversion are our sources of living and drive us onward, we cannot rest.

From Daring Steps toward Fearlessness: The Three Vehicles of Buddhism, by Ringu Tulku Rinpoche

i'm bustin' out

Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful, Mary. I know what I’m gonna do tomorrow, and the next day, and the next year, and the year after that. I’m shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Colosseum. Then, I’m comin’ back here and go to college and see what they know… And then I’m gonna build things. I’m gonna build airfields, I’m gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high, I’m gonna build bridges a mile long..... George Bailey (It's A Wonderful Life)

as the year comes to a close and fb has launched it's "2013 year in review", i am flooded with an odd sense of almost urgency. i have walked through a couple of dreams coming to life. i have felt the immense reassurance from the universe that some of me indeed makes sense. i have witnessed change happening in peoples' lives that have been as breathtaking as watching pink or orange sunrises.

i vowed last year to make room for love in my life. somehow i have managed to do this. i intend to grow this intention in my life and to expand it and to be more specific. i watched as part of my world seemed to fall apart and i did what i always do, but i also found the where-with-all to lean into the destruction and try to glean something from it. this last bit is a definite sign of progress for me.

i am excited for the chance to let go a bit more. i have been holding on to some invisible side rail feeling as if i could be knocked over at any moment- also with a deeper feeling that maybe i didn't deserve to be carefree. this year has swept in change with regard to this. i am grateful for this and i am both nervous and excited to change even more.

as i review my year, again i am amazed at the ninth step promises coming true in my life. perfection has not been reached, nor will it ever be- but a global shift has taken place in my world. it feels really wonderful and i want to examine it more closely. happy holidays.

The choice is ours...

Do we want more of what brought us to AA ...

We were having trouble with personal relationships, we couldn’t control our emotional natures, we were a prey to misery and depression, we couldn’t make a living, we had a feeling of uselessness, we were full of fear, we were unhappy, we couldn’t seem to be of real help to other people—was not a basic solution of these bedevilments more important ... ?

3rd ed. Big Book pg. 52 

... or do we want what practicing the principles of AA promises?

If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through.

We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.

We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.

We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.

No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.

That feeling of uselessness and self pity will disappear.

We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.

Self-seeking will slip away.

Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.

Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.

We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.

3rd ed. Big Book pg. 83 & 84 

world aids day 2013

world aids day is preceded by thanksgiving by just a few days. i am publishing a post from my former blog "kickintina" which describes the footprint that connects both of these very significant days in my life. the emotions and the intentions of remembrance and gratitude, loss and illness have shaped my psyche, my heart, and my perception. i wrote on facebook that my friendship with paul was very influential in the structure of my adult personality. this cannot be truer- caring for my friend matured me. feeling helpless around making him well right-sized me, and feeling blessed by knowing him has helped me feel protected - almost cocooned from danger (if only that were real :)

i am working on my thanksgiving post a bit early as i have a full day on thursday. i am supposed to jog with my buddy first thing in that morning, but it is also supposed to be very, very cold and i don't know if i will make it. i am cooking a turkey for the rocky mountain roundup speaker/dinner, dropping it off, and going to my cousin and his partner's home for my actual meal. my mom, aunt and uncle are going and they haven't done a home dinner in the last few years. they have eaten out because they don't have to cook or clean up after which makes some very good sense to me.I am looking forward to the whole day, and i'm spending tomorrow night at my cousin's house. i'm sure we'll hear some of the same old stories that usually get told at family functions. we were a pretty close knit crew in illinois and that has carried over to most of us here. it's not the same, but it's very familiar and that is a blessing. 

one of the stories i will not hear this year is my last thanksgiving in chicago. i am going to write about it here and hopefully the tale will unravel itself a bit differently than it has in the past. i have spun this yarn on a few occasions, but i have always kept the focus the part where i am the victim. and honestly, thanksgiving still is a challenging emotional trek because of the drama on this day. it really is the day i stopped dancing. the last day that is until i started channeling velvet- but that's a tale for another day.

in 1985, i had gotten an apartment with my best friend paul the previous year. we had shopped and hunted for 3 months for that beautiful soon-to-be condo on logan blvd. 3 bedrooms, 2 baths, full kitchen, dr, front and back balcony. it truly was stunning. but on the day we were moving in, paul was completely tuckered. i remember him sitting on the back of the rental truck, saying he just couldn't move any boxes. He was exhausted. and before we finished, he insisted he go to the hospital. we complied, and he was admitted and was in the hospital for about a month.

i went to visit him in that place every day. the first couple of days, i donned a hospital gown, mask, and gloves, but soon decided to put them aside after that. i wasn't going to be looking at him dressed like an alien, or like i was afraid to be near him. i wasn't. i loved him. still do. and i wasn't going to cause him any extra anxiety. i would bring him meals from some of our favorite restaurants. the hospital food sucked, of course, and i knew he needed to eat. we had a very pleasant time being food snobs in there and would laugh together and became closer, without ever really discussing the elephant in the room. i couldn't go there emotionally.i now know it's called denial, but then i thought of it as survival. i remember one day going to visit him, and finding him in his room alone, with a fever so high that his body was convulsing, jumping up and down on the bed with no assistance. it scared the shit out of me, watching him jerking up and down like darryl hannah losing life in blade runner. i left in horror and came back a couple of hours later, never speaking a word to him about what i had seen.

my drug use started to escalate after this. the cocaine use was incessant and i drank vodka to counteract the effects of the cocaine. numbing became my priority. this actually caused paul to move back in with his parents, and my friend robbie (foxy)moved in. poor fox- he had no clue as to the mess he was entering. but that's another story. 

fast forward to thanksgiving 1986. paul had been living with his family for a few months now. he had been in and out of the hospital. i had invited about 8 friend over for a holiday feast. i spent all day preparing the food. turkey rubbed with butter and tamari, baked with apples, onions, and cranberries, stuffing, brussel sprouts, home-made cobbler, etc. as the day progressed, the weather took a turn for the worse. a thunderstorm took hold. one-by-one calls with cancellations started to come in. it had become dark outside, and the last call came from my friend blue. i think he really had waited until he absolutely knew he couldn't get there. no cabs were running etc. i remember sitting at the head of the table, looking at the fitz and floyd and the crystal candle holders and feeling stunned. the phone then rang again, and it was paul's brother on the phone. he wanted to let me know that paul had passed a few hours earlier that day. he had gone peacefully and was no longer suffering. i returned back to my seat and looking over the empty but well laid table, clutched my wine glass and took a big swig. a huge lightning bolt back lit the entire sky, was followed by an earsplitting crack of thunder, and the power in my apartment was knocked out. there i sat in the dark, and found myself feeling more alone and more confused than i could remember. and i was a victim. and i had imprinted that pained mask onto myself and held it there for a good 20 years. 

i have managed to let go of that branding i did. i honestly loved paul, and was completely a mess having lost him. i laughed so freely with him, and he understood so many things about me that i always felt shame around, and never did anything but expect me to succeed. we dined a lot, and we read a lot of books- mostly the classics, and the "gay" authors. we participated in a salon of a sort with a few other friends, and would drink wine and read aloud from books like "To The Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf, "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac, and my favorite "Orlando" by Woolf as well. We talked about Vita Sackville West and Virginia, about Paul Bowles and his entourage, Kerouac and his mary-men lol, Stein, Toklas, and the ex-pats....

today, i am thankful i have let go of that old albatross that was choking me through the years. i have moved on to another perception of that time and that day. i am not frozen, i am living and participating again. i am again among the living, and am not in the throes of the walking wounded. i can celebrate today without anesthetizing. i can struggle and maintain. i can look forward and think of a future in practical terms, in lieu of living in a fantasy and only seeing the future as a sparkling illusion. i am so very glad paul was in my life. i am so blessed that he saw me for exactly who i was and loved me because of it. this is something that will never be replaced. and something that will never be lost.

today i see that life is a banquet, and i spent way too much time 

starving myself. there is more to life than one singular sensation.

blood like lemonade

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”― Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss

Once upon a time there was a group of merchants who wanted to go to the sea. A guide was required. They set out in quest of such a man. After finding such a man, they started the trip and saw a temple when they reached a land of wilderness. A man had to be immolated to cross it.

After consultation, the group of merchants said that they could not choose anyone in the company to be killed, for they were all related. The only one fit to be sacrificed was the guide. So they killed him. After performing the rites, they soon lost their way and knew not which direction to go. They then died one after another.

So are the people in general.

Those who seek to fish for treasure in the sea of Dharma should keep the commandments of doing good deeds as their guide. If they break them, they will end their lives in the wilderness and can never be rescued. Furthermore, they will have to go through the Three Evil Paths of Transmigration and suffer forever and ever.

Such men are just like the group of merchants who killed the guide and died in a body as a result....Buddhist Fable.

image credit- peter stein's faust at marathon theatre

“If one good deed in all my life I did, 

I do repent it from my very soul.” 

― William Shakespeare

today's post is full of allegory. after the recent passing of a friend. i have come to a sort of secret compartment in my life. i was talking about how strange it was to have known someone on both a professional (counselor to client) level and as a fellow community member and volunteer. this caused me to pause for a while and consider the hidden cost of being an addictions counselor working with lgbt persons with addictions (who may or may not be hiv positive).
it is a complete recurrence that gay men (hiv + and hiv -) will appear when they need support and then disappear when they no longer feel the need for support (for a variety of reasons). as a professional there is an ongoing and undisclosed cost of knowing and caring for a person and then having them leave your life just as quickly as they appeared. and my experience is that when the "gay" factor, and the "hiv +" factor are combined, i have found that the boundaries have been a bit less distinctive. i might have cared a little more, or offered a little more support. and of course the disappearance of these folks from my practice has consistently left a deeper impression. but after they leave the treatment cocoon, they enter back into the community arena along with me and the rest of our world. because these individuals and i have engaged in a therapeutic relationship, returning to a friendly relationship is strained at best. i know more about them than they probably would like to admit. they have shared secrets with me. if they did not complete, nor were successful with treatment, then this usually means they won't want to see me in person, nor see themselves in my eyes. this is perfectly understandable- almost expected. but it does have a price tag- especially in a smaller community. it is not a deal breaker at all. it is simply that i haven't really looked at my own real needs in all this.
until this week, i have not looked at my own feelings about this whole brief therapy process. with bryan's passing, i now understand that it has had a price. i have assumed that my skills as a practitioner are lacking at times. i have felt that i am too blunt for people too early. i have even felt that i am too old at times and out of touch with current lgbt culture.

“I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years.”

― Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

although all of these are probable and appropriate, i have never considered that i might need some support around the loss this process brings. i now know that i have just hunkered down, trudged forward, cut my losses and tucked those feelings without processing or examining them with any concern. i don't regret this after realizing this, but i do want to make some changes from here forward. and because of my childhood history of relationship and loss, i have had auto-responses of shutting down when i have become saddened. i have let go of friends because i honestly haven't figured out yet how to do anything else quite yet.
to be less vague, i now understand that i have a primal feeling that i am not okay, so i assume that these losses are the price i am required to pay for being me-(conversely, there are many benefits to being me as well so i don't think this as simply dark and morose).
since my work has recently shifted away from cultural specific clients, i have gained some distance and some perspective on all this. this reminds me yet again that situations and experiences in our lives shape, form, and mold who we are. and all the relationships, fabulous jobs, exciting or relaxing vacations, spas, makeovers, workouts, and new clothes in the world won't really make me any different. i am required to do the work, look at my life and my part in it, feel my feelings, accept them, understand them, and make room for change if needed. and change is probably needed in this case.
i am posting from a quiet place of gratitude today. i hope your holiday brings even a small portion of the grace i feel today. happy thanksgiving.

one less

“Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are.”― Charles Bukowski

it's been a sad couple of weeks for me. i somehow got turned around in my life and lost touch with the direction in which i was heading. it was confusing, it was humbling, and it was maddening. i interviewed for new jobs and have considered going rogue and once again living as a bohemian might-pursuing truth and joy with a devil-may-care attitude (emphasis right now on considered). in the midst of my melt-down came the news that sweetness bryan mckay had passed-prolly from an overdose of pain medication.

it seems bryan has been part of my world for many years now. so enmeshed is he that i struggle to remember when our paths first crossed. i am sure it was just after i started the strength in numbers gig. i do remember going on an impromptu hike just outside boulder with a few poz guys of whom bryan was included. 5 minutes into the hike, his seizure disorder kicked in, he collapsed on the trail and was chucking up liquid and trying to catch his breath. it was both frightening and frustrating as we all turned back to head home to make sure that bryan was safe.

this contrast of emotion i describe would become my emotional soundtrack when it came to bryan. he was the sweetest soul and so easy to be around. he volunteered at about 10 different community organizations around town and was always oozing with positivity and good will. he was likeable, thoughtful, and mostly uncomplicated. he watched soaps, award shows, and professional sports on tv. his taste in music was uber-ultra gay with the obligatory colorado country twist thrown in. there was not so much outwardly remarkable about him- other than his good looks- he was very much like a favorite pashmina. 

as i considered my life that was with bryan, i thought of james dean and montgomery clift for some reason.  i see both of those souls in very much the same way. they were extraordinarily charming and talented- completely memorable. they were well-loved, engaged, and all the while very fucked up deep down. this was my sense with bryan. 

i think he may have grown up with an overbearing parent. underneath he was very very anxiety ridden and was taking strong meds to address this. as is the case with so many, he overtook those meds with alarming frequency. i had met with him privately for several mandated sessions to discuss addiction and impulsive behavior and how it affects prescription medication. this was at the beginning of a time when the reins were being pulled in on his use. 

about this same time, his visits to emergency rooms seemed to escalate. he was visiting er's with alarming frequency with vague symptoms and illnesses. it is assumed that there was drug seeking going on. he was appearing very often in clinics with symptoms that could not be verified or documented. and there had been talk of munchhausen syndrome which may have been an offshoot of his upbringing. my impression was that upon the passing of bryan's mother he received a small inheritance. with this came several trips to cities like dallas and las vegas where i would notice posts on facebook which had him checking in from the emergency rooms in those cities as well. frankly, i felt quietly helpless and sad when i would read those.

i assume that friends of ours may read this post and get angry as i might seem to be airing bryan's dirty laundry. i hope this is not my intention. i am saddened by bryan's early passing. i was so very grateful for all the volunteering he did for our hiv organization as well as the lgbt community at large. i wish i could be as philanthropic as he. i genuinely liked bryan. 

at the same time, it was just as authentically heartbreaking to be so very aware of his internal and closted writhing that seemingly could only be quelled with meds (and sometimes not even then)- as often as they were procured by proxy. bryan certainly had physical complications in his life. they were accompanied by emotional pain that rarely saw the light of day. i mourn openly for bryan and all the wonderful attributes he shared with our world. and i mourn silently for the unrequited discomfort that he wore like an invisible undergarment. 

the yin-yang aspect of my feelings for bryan are intoxicating. it is like sitting on the edge of a canyon knowing i have to go in some direction, but too amazed at the view to find the where-with-all to make a move. there is some quality in this uncertainty which compels me to love my life. the not-knowing all of this gives me grist for the mill. 

thank you bryan for breezing through my world and clearing out some cobwebs on your way. i will always be grateful, i will always be smiling, and i will always wonder.