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

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 

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.

wrecking ball

effreide stegemeier circa 1935

“There was once a lady who was arrogant and proud. Determined to attain enlightenment, she asked all the authorities how to go about it. She was told, "Well, if you climb to the top of this very high mountain, you'll find a cave there. Sitting inside that cave is a wise old woman. She will tell you." Having endured great hardships, the lady finally found this cave. Sure enough, sitting there was a gentle spiritual-looking old woman in white clothing, who smiled beatifically. Overcome with awe and respect, the lady prostrated at the feet of this woman and said, "I want to attain enlightenment. Show me how." This wise woman looked at her and asked sweetly, "Are you sure you want to attain enlightenment?" And the woman said, "Of course I'm sure." Whereupon the smiling woman turned into a demon, stood up brandishing a great big stick, and started chasing her, saying, "Now! Now! Now!" For the rest of her life, that lady could never get away from the demon who was always saying, Now! Now--that's the key. Mindfulness trains us to be awake and alive, fully curious, about now.” 

― Pema Chödrön,

painting by kwangho shin

i believe i stand in the beginning of a fairly drastic change in my world. for the last 5 years i have been pushing my plough in a certain direction in order to nurture harvest. amidst this process, i have seen drought and flood, experienced both exhilaration and exhaustion, and even broken a blade once or twice. 

cumulatively though, my general sense has been comprised of success and gratitude. i have made structural changes in this process- in essence moving the fields i chose to cultivate. and i have been blessed with that choice. 

about 2 months ago, infused with inspiration, i suggested that i modify my schedule and increase my workload-accompanied by an increased compensation, so that i may give up my second job and concentrate growing our services into the black. surprisingly, i received a message which took away my wind. i walked away from that conversation feeling some shame and some frustration. i don't have the education to move forward within my department and would need to spend 4 years cultivating that prior to any advancement for me. to make matters worse the next morning  i found place upon my desk, a book imparting the philosophy of getting things done by having a "yes" attitude. instantly i was drowning in a diminishing pond and dog-paddling seemed both a life sentence and a metaphor.

this is when my life complicated. my judgment has been clouded by the fog of emotions. i felt tricked and patronized. it was almost as if there had been a small earthquake and my foundation has shifted. i am groomed to utilize my insight and my talents, encourage to participate on equal footing, but then challenged to keep in my place until i accomplish more, but work harder and continue to say "yes" until then. i kinda felt like a hooker- and that's not an unfamiliar feeling- nor is it pleasant (you know- we can have fun with the lights out when nobody else is around, but pretend like we don't know each other the remainder of the time).  i have been trying to ascertain damage control since that time. sadly i cannot report that i have had a clear and concise pathway. quite the contrary- i have fretted and fussed in a circuitous fashion, listening too often to the inner child's tantrum-mantras of the past and come to the point of picking up my toys and moving to another sandbox. this has all been set in motion and i am not clear where it will take me, nor which thoughts are mature and which are primal. most mornings and evenings it is the auditory quality of standing in an aviary.

the hypocrisy of the barriers laid out by institutions and their stewards are mind boggling.  health care organizations tout themselves so often as places to heal yet their actual practices include such exclusivity and denial of individuality that they often create as much trauma as they address (if not more). no wonder the bird-sanctuary-like cacophony in my mind has been dizzying. 

the wheels are in motion and i am preparing for a journey of some sort. i feel responsible (as is my way) to those whom i have brought along on my journey. i have touted the wonders of recovery and encouraged others to try to get their feet wet in it. and now i may need to allow them to bask in the beautiful waters of their recovery without me as the direct mentoring presence. but as i type this post, i realize that some of this is the natural order of change- we have to fly on our own at some point. so it is not a requirement for me to feel ownership of something i don't really own. it is possible to remain a source of support without being on site.

in the interim, i was talking with a friend who is experiencing a not-so-different episode in her life. it was so damn easy for me to spout off a diatribe about trusting one's own life and process. truthfully, i know that failure is not failure at all-it's just the feels like it to our ego at the time. we learn so much more from failure than we learn from success. failing has a much more dramatic impact and leaves a more memorable flavor in our mouths. this week finds me asking myself -what are my fears here? what am i trying to control? why the drama? 

i only hope my head will try silence long enough for me to hear the answers to those questions. 

when doves cry

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer.

William S. Burroughs

“nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know 

…nothing ever really attacks us except our own confusion. perhaps there is no solid obstacle except our own need to protect ourselves from being touched. maybe the only enemy is that we don’t like the way reality is now and therefore wish it would go away fast. but what we find as practitioners is that nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know. if we run a hundred miles an hour to the other end of the continent in order to get away from the obstacle, we find the very same problem waiting for us when we arrive. it just keeps returning with new names, forms, manifestations until we learn whatever it has to teach us about where we are separating ourselves from reality, how we are pulling back instead of opening up, closing down instead of allowing ourselves to experience fully whatever we encounter, without hesitating or retreating into ourselves.” 

― Pema Chödrön

another week sails by. i am feeling stronger and healthier, although a patient came to an appointment yesterday swirling in a cold virus and i am pretty sure i am at odds with that today. a couple of weeks ago, i had put a message out into the world that i was open to a change. that message brought a response this week and i have acknowledged a doorway to change and started to make room for additional energy to enter my world.

it felt strange to do this. i wrestle with my own nature which creates the most discomfort in situations for me. my friend paul always repeated to me that it is not our reactions to life that get us into trouble, but our over-reactions to life that create problems. more and more i see what he means. i have hosted a plethora of feelings during this tiny process i speak of here. and i find myself encountering remorse and guilt as i consistently swim in after a new experience. that of course is my own brand of ptsd- shame. 

there are two trends in our modern culture that i have always avoided, however have also come to understand more deeply in accordance with understanding myself. tattoos are one exercise in self-expression that have always overwhelmed me. firstly, i remember my grandfathers old green inky and crinkly tattoos from the navy. i thought they were the ugliest and creepiest things i had seen. i absolutely never wanted something old and green on my skin. also i never really have found an image that would be universal or long-lasting enough for me to be able to connect with 20 years later adorning one of my appendages. but as i get older i realize they are badges of courage in a way. they represent a validation of experience and proof of life in a way. i still don't need or want to get a tattoo, but i certainly respect the tradition they have become. i think i may have an emotional tattoo almost branded in my brain. that is enough.

the other trend would be plastic surgery. i am more able to relate to that ritual because there are things i very much do not like about my nature. i almost with that i could have a surgical procedure and the character defects i dislike would vanish into thin air or be tossed away with the other remnants that are gathered in the operating room. i might feel better about my life if i could have my shame removed by a procedure. not likely to happen- but more and more, i can relate to the desire which drives a nose job etc... it's a real inconvenience to not like something about one's self on a consistent basis. 

autumn jewels

The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.

Pablo Picasso

The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.

Aristotle

We have art in order not to die of the truth.

Friedrich Nietzche

An artist is not paid for his labor but for his vision.

James Whistler

The only real failure in life is not to be true to the best one knows.

I don't believe in dressing up reality. I don't believe in using makeup to make things look smoother.

Lou Reed

I always believed that I have something important to say and I said it.

Lou Reed

“When we get too caught up in the busyness of the world, we lose connection with one another - and ourselves”...

Jack Kornfield.

“We need to make books cool again. If you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them.”... John Waters

this autumn has been an especially colorful season on a few levels. the late excessive rains in colorado followed by an unseasonably hot indian summer has produced the most glorious red, gold, and orange foliage that i can remember since my arrival in colorado in 1989. each day in october i am still awestruck by the majesty these colors bring. 

along with this is new level of trust and perspective to which i have ascended with my vocation. i have run headlong into my own dissonance between how i want to feel and how i actually feel. i am still working on resurrecting some sense of balance around all this. 

today of fb, i received a note from a former neuro psychiatric resident that i have spent time with at the clinic. although he was working in a different department, we shared office space and many lunches and coffees. i must say i was gobsmacked by the tone and the purpose of his words.

Rod, I'm not exactly sure how to go about this, but I wanted to apologize for not informing you I wasn't going to be able to make the Rally. I'm not going to bother with the excuse for my absence, because it doesn't matter---I promised I'd be there and I didn't show. I also didn't bother to let you know either before or after the fact, and for that, I'm sorry. I thought about reaching out over the past year and came close a couple of times, but I was never quite able to muster the courage to do so. Even though I'm glad you reach out, I wish I had been the one. 

I've since left Chicago and moved on to my official internship at a psychiatric hospital in New Jersey. It's a different world out here on the east coast, that's for sure. My experience working at a psychiatric facility brings along with it many pros and cons. Regarding the latter, I find myself oftentimes discouraged with the complacency I see in the staff. The treatment of patients, at times, lacks the compassion and sense of humanity one needs in order to foster growth and help develop a sense of self-worth and agency in others. Anyway, I bring this up because I realized a huge part of the reason I even understand what it takes to connect with someone in the first place is from quietly observing you in my corner cubicle for 10 months. I've worked with several psychiatrists, psychologists and neuro psychologists who did not teach me as much as you did about how to treat patients. You do great work, and I never took the opportunity to tell you that before I left. I'm sorry for that, too.

 I'm assuming you read that last piece and started feeling a little uneasy. My guess is that you started to immediately minimize the hard work and long hours you put into giving your patients the best care possible, or perhaps you deflected it by attributing it to someone else. Don't. It bothered me you couldn't take a compliment--it always felt like you were depriving yourself of feeling good because you thought you didn't deserve it. Thanks for setting the bar so high, Rod. And thanks for the beats..... (click on beats to hear some sounds from my 80's alma mater laid down in 1988 by jonathan scrappy gilbert.

but more in keeping with my emotional state... here is a selection of arias by one of the best our world has ever known.    

practicing mindfulness

It’s also helpful to realize that this very body that we have, that’s sitting right here right now… with its aches and it pleasures… is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive.

Ok, maybe it’s also important to have food, clothing, and a roof over our heads for many of us to be fully human, fully awake, and fully alive. Let’s not let that small point take us away from the brilliance of this quote.

What’s so brilliant about it? For reason particularly driven by subtle messages from the media driven into our forming minds, we are a culture driven by a need for “more” in order to feel alive or happy. For other reasons we are also a culture driven to try and eradicate discomfort. Both of these messages are partly driven by business trying to make a buck and spending billions of dollars are marketing to drive this into our minds.

The price?

A constant feeling of dis-ease within us. We’re can’t be content with where we are in any particular moment because our minds are either trying to flee away from some discomfort or toward some comfort.

Pema Chodron is simply trying to remind us that aches and pleasures are part of the human experience. There may not be a catastrophe when a pain is there, it may just be part of being “fully alive.” There may not be a need to get the wheels anxiety or distress to be set in motion. Of course, if you are under extreme distress or have an inkling that something is off physically, it’s important to get it checked out by a medical professional.

However, next time you’re feeling physical or emotional pain, know that this is temporary and say to yourself, “maybe this is exactly what I need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive.” See if you can bring your attention to it with a sense of compassion and caring. Next time you are feeling pleasure, also know that this is temporary and part of being fully alive... reposted from monday's mindful quote

wow- what a very uncomfortable week this has been. i started feeling a sort of gurgling discomfort in my sinuses on monday and stayed in bed for 3 days with a fever and runny nose missing both my day job, but also cancelling on a catering gig which did leave a hole in my monthly budget.  when i spoke with my doctor's office, i was informed that they recommended that i let the infection run its course and would be offered antibiotics after 10 days or so. i felt betrayed by this news which is ironic because i rarely take any meds (, aspirin, cough syrup, cold pills other than my hiv and psych meds for any reason. however i have had a sinus infection a few times before and have found that to be something that i am susceptible to and very weakened by for some reason. back in the late 80's, my sinuses swelled onto the surface of my forehead giving me a cyclops sort of presentation that caused me to scream when i saw my reflection in the mirror. even that time, i didn't take medication, i used steam and vapo-rub for about 4 hours. luckily, the channelling of a lon chaney type creature vanished with not much residual affect other than that gorilla i saw in the mirror. 

anyway, a couple of years ago i had another infection and it went on ad nauseum. i couldn't shake the fever and the nose might as well have been training for a triathlon. the only relief came very late in the game in the form of amoxocillin. and this week i found myself wanting that same order and with the response from my caregivers that i didn't qualify, my sense of balance seemed to waft away like the scent of a freshly baked pie flows out of the kitchen. 

i had to pull myself up from my bootstraps and visit them in person and plead my case- with several sales pitches in tow. "i can't lay around for days doing nothing"- " i feel like i am being punished for being healthy" " i don't really want to use up a week's pto with a crappy fever and box of kleenex. somehow i got my way. 

what also became apparent was that the mercury-in-retrograde stage directions had been put into place. my car wouldn't start, my dishwasher ran some sort of leak, the order of snacks for my group didn't get placed, the meal i planned to pick up for another group didn't get handled because of the car. in spite of all these mishaps ( quite plentiful for one  day) were also met with an answer from my life which caused no real trauma other than to my sense of balance. the early groups survived with no doughnuts- the second group had no attendees so i disappointed no one directly- my friend loaned me a car for a week, and nothing seems damaged by water all over the floor. 

with all the blows to my plans for my life this week, there also has been a net that showed up to catch me from any imminent fall. in other words, i didn't crumble or suffer- other than in my own mind. actually my life protected me - even from me.

that's the good news. and it is good. the other side of the story is that i have not been on my best behavior nor in my best frame of mind. i have wallowed in a little pity, played a bit of the victim, been a bit gamey and childish,  and worked it more than i would like to admit.  being human is really damn humbling...

am offering 2 selections with today's post- 1 with homage to the mindful part of myself and the other with a nod to the diva that walks the catwalk inside my head with repetition.... mercury in retrograde leaves november 10- fingers crossed we make it without too much more destruction and re-creation..the title of this post is practicing mindfulness - the emphasis is on practicing.

october gypsy

Tiny Wisdom: The Beauty of Starting Over

By Lori Deschene

“Celebrate endings, for they precede new beginnings.” -Jonathan Lockwood Huie

Yesterday I spent more than an hour writing something I intended to publish today—and then I lost it. Since I hadn’t slept much the night before, I wasn’t completely attentive and somehow, I must have closed out the Word document before I titled or saved it.

That same exhaustion made it somewhat difficult to communicate my thoughts clearly when writing. But I did—after an hour, I’d expressed everything I wanted to share. Then it was gone.

Initially, I considered rewriting the post, and trying to remember exactly what I’d written before. Then I decided that maybe the lesson was to let go and start anew.

In college, teachers and peers had to fight me to change even one word in my writing, let alone a full sentence. When they did get me to edit, I’d likely only change a small portion, without allowing that new train of thought to further shape the entire piece.

I was stubbornly attached to every first draft. After putting so much thought and effort into it, I was afraid that making changes would be like picking thread on a sweater—the whole thing would unravel and I would be left with nothing. I would essentially have to start over.

I eventually realized this tendency translated into my everyday life. Once I set a goal, I was afraid to revise it—even if it became clear that was no longer what I wanted—because I was afraid to start over.

Once I got into a new relationship, I was afraid to walk away from it—even if wasn’t healthy or satisfying—because I was afraid I’d have to start over.

Ironically, I wasted a lot of time clinging to things that had run their course simply to avoid feeling like I’d wasted time.

It’s human nature to get attached when we’ve invested a lot of time in something. But an investment is only as valuable as its return—meaning we owe it to ourselves to recognize when we can get a better one by wiping the slate clean and starting over.

Letting go can feel like a loss. That’s because it is. But every loss paves the way for a gain, if we’re willing to receive it. Every time we let something go, we open ourselves up to something better.

“There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir, We must rise and follow her; When from every hill of flame, She calls and calls each vagabond by name”.... william bliss carman

what an incredible couple of weeks we have come through. it seems almost like a strange 20th century fiction pulp fiction novel with has given us a peek into the absurd and not the actual events of a 21st century advanced government body. i repeatedly found myself these last few weeks in a state of frozen stun due to the carnival-like quality of rhetoric that was emanating from our capital city. i still don't think i have recovered from the shock that the shut down rolled out. and i wonder what subterfuge was (and is) transpiring while the main stage was occupied by the house of representatives marionettes. 

i am also mesmerized at how this national theatre of the freaks has mirrored in my daily life with an eerie intensity. it is almost as if my interpretation of my role and my activities has deconstructed and i am now looking at my life with new eyes and shaping my impression with new hands. with this new vision i realize i have have been daily interfacing with a multi-headed hydra of malcontents that routinely create a droning drama which feels just like an old record player needle skipping on a scratched vinyl 45. what used to present as an opportunity to problem solve has now taken on a new complexion of a child's face whincing as it endures the repetition of a whining car alarm in the distance. 

another remodel in my life comes via my vocation. i love working with clients still although some of my idiosyncrasies have changed there as well. i am increasingly developing a sense of boundary and becoming less willing to be beckoned at any call. i often find myself walking through the hallway and encountering 5 to 10 questions or inquiries. sadly, at this juncture, i am unable to remember all those soundbites and it often causes me to forget things. so on a daily basis i am setting myself up to err. this is not a pleasant way to practice care giving. of course, i struggle with the appropriateness of having boundaries. but that's a spiritual practice that will probably last my lifetime. 

i have somehow come to view my living situation with a different lens as well. it has occurred to me that i have an option of renting my townhouse out and finding a new place to dwell. this has always been an option, i had just never considered it until this month. and in the considering, i have felt the load i carry daily lighten just a bit. making the effort to actually make the above change is another story. the option, however, resembles a small window opened to let a cool breeze in on a muggy afternoon. 

i have felt myself change my view on so many aspects of my world during this october 2013. i had a solitary "moment" of panic which caused me to want to toss the whole game table over letting the cards, the chips, and the drinks fly all over. instead, i have clenched tightly, almost playing lifeless, recoiling my emotions and recoiling my laissez faire energy output. and with that clenching, a fresh path using these new perspectives is being carved. i can't be sure how this will finally feel, but i am inspired by the vagabond nature of it all. my october 2013 is all about this primal journey my inner gypsy has awakened to begin travelling. 

the art of making art

“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

the words above are really wonderful. they represent an idea which seems so progressed, so advanced, and so worth achieving. however that idea seems so far away at times, too. i have yet to live with my heart open consistently. i manage it at times. i feel good during those times. i also slide back to living a smaller life rife with emotional reactions, gut impulse, and intricate tribal type war dances that signal messages to the universe. 

these latter mentioned times are not my proudest moments. if i were to compare them to paint on a palette, those moments would be the darker hues, violets, deep reds, black blues, black greens and browns- shame, blame, denial, and fear all becoming like leg irons creating shadow and drama. as i metaphorically capture my life with brush in the current time, i may very well be using the blacker tones. strangely, i seem almost stuck in a spiral of these dark hues- almost drawn to them- even when i want nothing more than to blast bright yellow or pink on the canvas. 

hockney sketch of he and picasso

none-the-less my agenda is to learn to be different. to be open, to be curious, to work with fear, and to not shut down first. big hopes for a small town boy. i paint and i throw away. and i paint and i paint over. i paint  and i set aside. and just as david hockney suggested about the work of picasso- it is all the same connected piece of work- just like a japanese paper scroll- that rustles, and twitches, and has its own life while it is viewed as a whole.

This is one way in which Hockney has maintained a close, posthumous relationship with Picasso. Early on, the Spaniard’s abrupt changes of style had licensed Hockney to do the same. One of the aspects of both artists that confuses commentators is their stylistic shape-shifting. Lesser artists, Hockney wrote in 1976, can get trapped in a way of working. Picasso didn’t let that happen, he had the courage to say, “I’ll quit this!”

“When you stop doing something it doesn’t mean you are rejecting the previous work,” says Hockney. “That’s the mistake; it’s not rejecting it, it’s saying, ‘I have exploited it enough now and I wish to take a look at another corner.’” That was a lesson for Hockney in his thirties, and one he is still drawing on. The spectacular landscapes in his current Royal Academy exhibition are the latest of such changes of tack – and, I believe, a stunningly rich one.... reprinted from a David Hockney interview at telegraph.co.uk

that's life

“There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.” 

― Pema Chödrön, The Wisdom of No Escape: How to Love Yourself and Your World

in what seems just a month or so, my world has shifted.i am facing a new direction although i have one foot facing one way and the other foot facing another. i can't really explain the entirety of this shift, but it has girth. there certainly is a pattern-ish feel to it. i had roguishly made an effort to ask for something more in my world and was shot down numbly and almost robot-like. it felt impersonal and without connection. immediately,  i visited disappointment and then had a turn with let-down, but planned to move on through to "okay" -until something unexpected happened. the rhetoric and the technique used to deliver the shut-down left a familiar and very sour and stagnant stench that has attached itself to my mind (this is how ptsd can appear in my world). it is so very hard to see experience beyond that stink and have turned with the hopes of fresher air. 

and i find myself right now with each foot facing a different direction- quite a pickle- wanting to move forward but i have to make both feet turn in the same direction before i can move anywhere. now i am just stuck. part of me wants to make a change towards breathe-ability, while the other is really pissed that i have to make a change at all.
now this is not an unfamiliar place for me at all. it is very much my nature to instinctively hunker myself into a position which causes me to feel disadvantaged. i actually can feel the familiarity as a sightless person may understand braille- uber sensory. also aligned with my primal patterns is a tendency to cut my losses, vacate the premises, and try my damnedest to not look back. somehow i have always not only possessed this ability but i have been blessed enough to have had the where-with-all to begin again on several occasions. just like the song says- i have been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn, and a king.

as i walk this turn on the spiral of my life, i find myself at least more aware of my path. the pull of my instinct is embedded and strong. this cellular memory has kept me alive and safe throughout all the fails of my past. it would be foolish to deny its integral aspect of my soul. a shift though, is my resistance to bang the integral drum by fleeing.
i am opting to work on keeping my heart open and creating space for something good (and decidedly different) to come into play. i have witnessed what i might consider signs that this may be a very good decision for me. these tickles of hope just may scratch this veneer that has protected me this half century, and it might bring a new option for my story.   i am also afraid- very afraid that i will have to endure the same feelings i always run from as they infiltrate my soul with the intensity of a tsunami. the emotional part of me swears that these feelings will destroy me. the more adult part knows very well that i have already survived - countless times.

i guess life is checking me and it's time for me to consider my next move. maybe that move is not to move just yet. but let me catch up to my life instead of my life being ahead of me so often.

i included 2 musical selections today. one for my past and one for my future.