Positively Stone Canyon Road....

Someone made contact with me today. Someone I have not seen, nor talked with, since 1976.

My first impulse was to run away. Since this contact was made by computer, I nearly recoiled from it. I wasn't sure whether to throw a towel over it or just turn it off altogether. Change my email address. Slink back into the caverns from whence I came.

Truthfully, I would like to talk with her. She was my closest friend for a number of years. I met her in high school and we stayed in touch through our college years. We were quite a pair. I remember more than a time or two going to the lounge at the Hotel Bel Air and hanging out, trying to see who we could meet. We would put on our nicest clothes and head up there almost every weekend. We strutted up and down Rodeo Drive like we owned it. We lived on junk food. When we shared an apartment briefly, we lived on Kraft macaroni and cheese with hot dogs because we couldn't afford anything else. M, of course, paid most of the rent.

(Both of us will deny it if we're asked these days! Who would want to admit to such blatant gold-digging, groupie behavior as adults?)

The real thing is that under all of that, M. was the strong, sensible one. I was the flighty, free-spirited - oh, hell - the flakey one. She was always perfectly in control and very practical. I was bouncing off the walls with some new passion each week, changing my life and identity like changing clothes. M. drove me home when I got too drunk to drive. She never got drunk! (Our friendship lasted through the worst of my drinking.) M is always the one who had money. I was always broke. M was the pretty one. I was the ... plain... one.

M went on to get a good job while I still played hippie. She got married and had kids. I got married and got divorced.

Still. I want to talk to her.

My real dilemma is how I should present myself. Naturally, she asked for a picture.

Should I send her this one, in keeping with the L. A. Woman I still am on some levels.....

... or should I go for the dignified look?

She was always able to see through me though. I can't fool her because she was always good at sorting through the BS. Especially my BS. And she was the only one with the guts to call me on it.

Maybe I'll just snap a picture with my cell phone, now that I've lost so much weight that my old ones won't work anymore, and toss it to the universe.


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True Day: A Scathingly Brilliant Idea...

A few days ago, Olivia posted this. It's a very brave post, addressing the fact that we all have things we wish for that we don't want to admit to others. Within the post, she suggests that we all need a "true day", times when we are free to admit the things we really think, really want, really fantasize about, without fear of how others will receive it.

We began talking about this off-line, about the possibility of creating a space where all of us would feel free to express our inner selves, including these things we typically hide from others. Most of the time, we only believe we're hiding them since others do see it, but there's something freeing about writing it or saying it. It's almost like a confession without the penance. In these spaces, we don't want to see any penance dished out, just acceptance and sharing.

I'm willing to start.

I am ashamed of how small my world is and do a lot to hide it. Over the past year or so, I have used many of the lessons from my mother, things I scoffed at in the past, to create an image that isn't entirely true. In other words, I've allowed myself to become a social climber. I want to be perceived as "A List" material and have compromised my own values at time to accomplish that. I've given the impression that my life is much fuller than it is because it's easier than dealing with the shame and embarrassment.

I haven't lied exactly. Maybe a little. I've just left a lot out. My life embarrasses me. It should be fuller than it is, yet I deal with a touch of the isolationist. I love my alone time, yet recognize that I am not serving myself or anyone else by giving into it to the degree I do. Even knowing it is unhealthy doesn't necessarily push me out of the pattern. I fake it around others. I've allowed numbers and a calendar to control my perceptions of myself.

This began because there are times when I can be a petty and competitive person. I had a minor conflict with someone on my recovery list. She said "most people have lives, Chani" and my immediate reaction was to think "I'll show you, you *****!" and go into full-tilt competition, to prove to her that she was wrong. I not only "have a life" but one that is rich and full... the extension of that being "richer and fuller than yours". Because sometimes I can be that way.

It's stupid and faulty reasoning, of course.. but one I nurture anyway. I want to prove something - by any means necessary. My life hasn't changed all that substantially since that conflict occurred but I've learned how to present myself in such a way that no one will ever be able to say something like that to me again. It was humiliating, hurtful and intended to wound. Mission accomplished.

(For the record, I detest that expression "get a life". It's only purpose is to embarrass or humiliate another person. From now on, I will challenge anyone who says it.)

So I've admitted it here. Sometimes I can be petty and competitive. And sometimes I'm a phony.

I don't like that about me but I believe the quote in the graphic on this post. Each time we bring something like this into the light, we have an opportunity to heal it. If we don't admit it, it festers and spiders in several directions, making it possible to become an unhealthy pattern.

So I'm putting this on the table, admitting it because I intend to heal it. The other possible outcome is that I will accept it as part of my character and determine to not use it in a hurtful way - to myself or anyone else.

This is the purpose of "true day". If you would like to participate, put "true day" in the subject line of your post so we can find it with a search.


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War on Women....

*This post may be disturbing and contain triggers. Please be cautious about reading it if you have ever been raped or attacked.*

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I am sick and tired of turning on my television to see that one more woman has been abducted, raped and killed because she was hiking, jogging, shopping or sitting on her living room couch.

It's become clear over the past few years that these crimes are not being taken seriously. It provides plenty of sensational fodder for Jane Valez-Mitchell and Nancy Grace - but I'm not hearing anyone calling for direct action by the law enforcement community or the government to stop this war on women. That is exactly what it is.

I agree that we have to use common sense in going out alone at night, jogging in an isolated place or going for a long hike alone. That's an unfortunate reality that in this society, at this time, women are not free to live our lives as we choose.

Where and how have men gotten the idea that women are safe prey?

I'm sick to death of it!

Some of you who have been reading me for a while are going to be surprised by what I'm about to say.

I no longer go out alone without a gun. Yep. I am armed. And I'm NRA trained. I'm prepared to use it if some man decides to attack or abduct me in a parking lot because I have the audacity to go shopping by myself. If I am driving home late at night and some man decides to try to abduct me at a stop light, he is going to die.

It's time women were given the right to carry concealed weapons with a permit. We women are peacemakers. We don't like violence but I would challenge anyone to cite any belief system that holds that we should lay down and allow ourselves to be harmed.

Men need to know the justice system will take attacks on women seriously. Five or ten years in prison is not enough. There needs to be a PSA campaign that states clearly: You attack a woman, you go to prison for life. No parole. It should be treated as a hate crime. In addition to the charges he will receive, he should also be charged federally with a hate crime. This behavior is not acceptable in a civilized society.

I know some readers won't agree with my stand on gun rights but I have held these views for a long, long time. "An armed society is a polite society," as Robert Heinlein once wrote, "Manners are good when one may have to back up his actions with his life." The idealist in me wishes we didn't have to live in a society where self-defense of this nature was needed but that is the reality of women's lives at this time and in this place. I'm sure we would all like to be able to turn on CNN occasionally and not hear that another woman has been found mutilated in some ditch. Women are not to be treated like Bambi at hunting season.



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Wellness Wednesday: Reconnecting

We have some new neighbors. They've been here for a month or so and they've triggered off a whole series of internal machinations on my part.

They are of the Romany community, better known as "Gypsies". They are very interesting people and I've enjoyed getting to know something about them. The first thing they did when moving into the apartment is to make it their own. The decorations, the color, the beautiful fabrics. It's really quite lovely and they seem like joyful people.

I sat down this past weekend and read a history of the Roma people. God knows they've experienced a lot of persecution throughout the world. I'm sure there are some, unlike my neighbors, who have gotten caught up in that mindset of victimization. I don't sense any of that with these folks.

Nor do I sense a faux positivity and cheeriness that comes from never having really dealt with hardship. My neighbor said to me the other day, "I move depending on prayer. I go where I'm needed." And he does. He prays, makes a decision and moves.

He doesn't worry about where he will find housing or where he'll find work. (Whether or not they are Travelers is unknown to me at this point for certain.. and isn't relevant to this anyway.) His nomad spirit is firmly intact and he and his family up and move without plotting and planning all the contingencies and "what ifs" that can keep us frozen in time and space. They pack up their decorations and their clothes and hit the road.

Being frozen is what I'd allowed to happen in my own life. We can live our lives in fear without even realizing it. I was born with itchy feet, with wanderlust. When I was younger, I moved on a whim and can't honestly say I've suffered for it. Somehow things worked out and I would either stay or move on, depending on how many doors were open and how many are closed.

I miss that part of me. I miss the part that didn't stay frozen out of fear of consequences. Beyond a sensible caution, I'd like to let go of that and experience more adventure and newness in my life. Sometimes getting older can make us stodgy and scared. While I haven't been consciously aware of it, the Roma Next Door have awakened that part of me and have caused me to see it in glaring detail.

Now I'm consciously choosing to be awake to the possibilities and to not stay stuck because the devil that's known is better than the one that's unknown. That's not really living. It's existing. I'm thankful for my new neighbors who, even though they don't know it, have re-awakened a bit of the Gypsy soul in this gadje body.

How about you? Do you have an internal nomad, begging to come out?

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Wellness Wednesday

Just recently I had to make some changes to help get rid of some more blubber.

It's the hardest one yet! Usually, I drink two Diet Cokes each day. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. Since I have some issues with chronic fatigue, the caffeine helps. (My body won't tolerate caffeine in coffee.)

Losing the sodium has been very good for my weight loss program. Along with that, I'm doing a set of exercises each morning.

But this isn't a weight loss report (but can I slip in that I'm ready for another change in size? Thank goodness for Thai wrap skirts!) . Reading about someone else's weight loss is about as interesting as watching paint dry. I know that.

This is about aging and the changes we experience. The energy just isn't there anymore. Since I have stopped the soda, I am SO TIRED that I could probably sleep all day, only getting up to eat, take a shower and go potty. Sitting like a blob watching Court TV all day is not how I imagined spending my golden years.

This is grim! I miss my soda infusion. Wellness. Meh!

Getting old ain't for sissies!



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Things That Make You Go Hmmmm.....

The picture above is sunset at the North Pole. It has nothing to do with this post but I thought it was pretty.

I bought a book on-line from a company called "Discount Books". When I got my credit card statement this morning, there was an unauthorized charge for $19.95. Buried in small print, hidden in the corner of the "check out" panel was an unobtrusive statement that in my purchase, I was authorizing this "membership fee" to something called BestBrandValues. What a rip-off!

Bull Crap!

I called the company and was told about the "terms of use", that I had authorized the charge. After several minutes of arguing and chiding, they agreed to reverse the charge and told me it would show up on my credit card "within a few billing cycles".

Again, Bull Crap!

So.. I called Citibank, the issuer of my credit card and talked with them about the charge. I disputed it.

Okay.

One of the things that really irked me, even more than the charge, is that I got a call center in a foreign country. A chirpy, heavily-accented voice said, "Today is a glorious day in Customer Service! And what can I do for you today?"

Yecht! That is the way Citibank has its customer service reps answer the phone? I prefer something a little more professional.

Citibank is one of the major recipients of the government's stimulus package, provided by the tax payers of this country ~ and they are using a call center in a foreign country. Citibank, in all its apparent glory, would have gone out of business without billions of dollars of taxpayer money.

Is something wrong with this picture?

Those jobs should be here ~ for Americans ~ who sorely need them during this recession.

Shame on you, Citibank!

What's your opinion?



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Rest in Peace, Thao Nuan.....

Yesterday I attended a service for a friend who passed away very suddenly last week. While I didn't attend the cremation, this was an "after service" to give him a send-off into the next world. (Buddhist cosmology. Too much for here.. but it's very nice.)

There were monks chanting, food served for him to take with him into the afterlife and plenty of praying, pouring water into the roots of a tree and saying our farewells to him. It was beautifully handled by a well-oiled community who made sure to not only take care of Nuan's passage but to take care of his wife as well. There were gifts of money, food and companionship. She, naturally, is still feeling tender and I spent quite some time just holding her. She's too young to be having this experience. She's only 42. Nuan was only 59. There was no warning. This kind of loss is for people my age, not hers.

I saw a lot people I haven't seen in a very long time since I stopped going to the wat several months ago. It was wonderful to see how all the factions melted. We were all there for one reason: to support his wife. I am so glad I didn't chicken out and not go. Her reaction made it clear that she wanted me there. She is a sweet, sweet woman! I wish I could take this pain from her. There was no room for my tears or regret then. I felt it strongly when I looked at the mirror mounted on the wall that he always used to get ready for work. But this was for her. My sorrow would have to wait. I shed a few tears in the car.

What I remember most about Nuan is that he immediately took me into the "family" the first time he met me. There was no hesitation. He began to plan and plot how to find me a man. My friend Mary translated all of this to me since he didn't speak very much English. (I'm laughing at the memory.) He was so adamant! Very animated! There was no acceptable outcome in his opinion, other than to see me happily settled into married life with a good, honorable Lao man. A woman shouldn't be alone, he said.

He was sincere. This wasn't superficial social chit-chat. He even discussed it with people in my absence.

And when I was around him, I felt safely wrapped in his integrity. He was a man who was committed to taking care of his family and his community. He didn't drink, use drugs or smoke. He was always trying to learn something new and after working all day, he came home and studied. He studied English, history and things related to his trade. He was an awesome father, providing a good education and a good home for his three children. He wasn't a leader in the community but anyone who didn't realize he was a pillar wasn't paying attention. He was an awesome friend.

He made me feel protected, embraced and accepted, all at the same time. That's quite a constellation of feelings. Whenever I would go to their house, I never felt foreign or like a visitor. I was just one of the family. The last time we did get together, I was still in a rather fragile emotional state myself - and he is one of the few men I trusted then.. or now.

He will be missed by all of us who knew him. He was a simple, honorable and kind man.

Rest in Peace, Nuan Xayavong. We, your community, your sangha, will take care of things here. You're free now.

May these few memories be a blessing to his family.


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Sacred Life Sunday on Monday: Tyranny of the Majority

Yesterday's Weight Watchers meeting was probably the most uncomfortable I've ever attended.

Being the day after a holiday, the leader continually yapped on and on about how "everyone" would probably experience some weight gain because of "all the barbecues and parties" from the day before. She just assumed that "everyone" would have the same exact experience.

I looked around and saw a bunch of overweight women, most of whom probably did not go to barbecues or parties and had still gained weight.

Probably because they were feeling left out of the parties and back yard frolic, as many overweight people are, but certainly didn't want to admit they gained weight because they spent the weekend in front of the TV with a pint of Haagen Daas. So they sat there in hard plastic chairs with set jaws and closed mouths.

Still, the leader went on and on and on and on. It's the first time I thought about just getting up and leaving.

This got me to thinking about how little room there is for individuality in any of these programs. It's the nature of "joining". We automatically become subject to the tyranny of the perceived majority. Aaaah, the ubiquitous "everyone". I think "everyone" is a neighbor of "they". You know, "they say"..... That "they".

The truth is that "everyone" was not at some kind of event. I was out and around quite a bit that day and saw very little evidence of family gatherings and didn't smell very many barbecues at all. There might have been a whiff of one while walking around the neighborhood.

One of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves is the freedom to experience our own reality, whatever it might be. I wish the Weight Watchers leader had been more sensitive to individual autonomy and individual experience.

If there's anything I've discovered through a lifetime of having an addictive personality and experiencing two types of recovery, both alcohol and food, it is that addicts are generally very individualistic. We think for ourselves and don't fall into many predictable demographic pidgeon holes. It's both our salvation and downfall.

I've also found that we develop our own routes to recovery through a kind of eclectic mix of programs and ideas, personal experience and observation. We "take the best and leave the rest" in the most classic sense of that.

One of the most important things we can do is let go of someone else's expectations about how our lives should be.


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Michael Jackson... enough already!

We've had a heat wave going on here for the past 5 days so naturally I was parked in front of the TV more than any other time.

It's been wall-to-wall Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson's death, MJ's kids, MJ's will, MJ's personal habits, MJ's childhood, MJ's trial, MJ's father, MJ's siblings ... you name it! It's been morning until night since Thursday when he reportedly died.

The whole media circus is beyond cloying. The guy was a singer. He was not a diplomat. He wasn't a revolutionary. He didn't create a social movement that brought about world peace. He wasn't Nelson Mandela or Barack Obama.

He might have been a nice guy. I don't know. At the very minimum, from what little I know, his life was a troubled one.

But he was a singer! He played and sang music!

To the best of my knowledge, he didn't create social change with his music. "Billie Jean" is not a song of social significance. Neither are the rather vacuous "Ebony and Ivory" or "Man In The Mirror". They were just pop songs. They were bouncy and fun, made for good dance music. That was it!

He was talented. Granted. But he's not an idol. He was a talented musician who went the way of many talented musicians from Jim Morrison to Janis Joplin. It was a result of self-indulgence for all of them. I'm too old to believe in "tortured artists". They had too much money, too many sycophants and no particular foundation for living.

When I was a kid, it was all about the Beatles. Young girls my age went to concerts or movies where they'd scream their lungs out. It was mass hysteria. Some of them even passed out. My parents allowed me to go to the concert at the Cow Palace in 1965. It involved an entire weekend trip. I was 13 years old. "All the other kids" in the neighborhood were going which was usually a fairly compelling argument to my parents. So they packed me up with my friend Davida and we went. Neither of us, budding hippies that we were, were impressed. I remember the crowding, the smell of pot and an evening of rather mediocre music. I also remember the screaming which seemed rather odd, given the price of the tickets. No one was listening to the music.

Even at that age, I thought the whole thing was goofy. I was a fan of Joan Baez, Barry McGuire and Peter, Paul and Mary. Their concerts were wonderful but the mania over any musician never caught me.

Maybe that's why I am not understanding what's going on now.

Michael Jackson is dead. Let the man rest in peace.


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Sacred Life Sunday: Magnificent Brain

Frankly, I always thought the whole notion of "positive thinking" was a load of crap.

How's that for plopping it on the table?

Sometimes I think positivity is pushed in this culture like some kind of magic tonic, that it will cure everything. It's confused with "upbeat". The two are entirely different. Being positive also does not mean "cheerful". In that respect, the whole concept has become conflated and the importance of it has been lost in the onslaught of fluff. Being positive is an overall way of life. It's not just smiling a lot and expressing cheery thoughts.

Lately, it almost seems as this message is being pounded into my head. Thoughts are things.

Dealing with my housemate's negativity has been a real challenge. Every day, it's all about her hardships and separation from others. Any mind that concentrates on hardships and differences between self and others for too long becomes only the hardships and separations it fantasizes. In the end there is nothing left but the hardships and separations ~ a good life stolen by self from self. And that is where she is now.

That was one object lesson. It's been sort of a spiritual version of "this is your brain on drugs".

I was listening to PBS and Dr. Daniel Amen who wrote "Have A Magnificent Mind At Any Age". His "12 Prescriptions for an Improved Brain" emphasized this: Concentrate on the things you love about your life more than the things you don't.

He showed some supporting documentation. There were pictures of brains. Brains when we're negative. Brains when we're positive. There was a significant difference between the two.

There are physical consequences as well as quality-of-life consequences to allowing ourselves the laziness of being negative. Dr Amen's brain scans proved that. It puts it in the venue of science rather than some blah-blah "be positive" tripe that leads a lot of people to dismiss it out of hand.

What that has brought me to is a mindfulness about how often I allow myself to complain, to awfulize, to worry and to look at worse case scenarios. Without realizing it, when we do that, we change our brain patterns that lead to these physical as well as mental consequences. In so many ways, it's just as dangerous as smoking, eating poorly or not getting any exercise.

Something to chew on.


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Sacred Life Sunday: Praying the Devil Back To Hell....

There is nothing noble in being superior to some other man. The true nobility is in being superior to your previous self. ~Hindu proverb ...

I got an interesting comment on my last post, reminding me to send metta to the women I was upset with last week. (Was it last week? A few days ago? The time is blurring.)

Sending metta, or good thoughts ~ lovingkindness ~ to someone who has harmed us or tried to harm us is a basic part of the forgiveness process. At least for me.

Taking the comment seriously and realizing it was necessary, I sat down to do it. I sent lovingkindness to each woman, by name.

It was hard. Really hard! Not because I am still angry at them. Not out of a need to be right. Not because it felt like submission or giving up.

It was even more insidious than that.

It was because I'd relegated them to non-personhood. The particular dynamic they engaged as a means of "punishing" me was something I find so repugnant, so destructive, that I couldn't bring myself to forgive them as individuals. They became shells. It's really hard to have empathy or compassion for hollow shells. I was able to forgive in a global sense but couldn't on a person-to-person level.

Still, I sat and kept trying.

Eventually after several full minutes, I began to feel some compassion for people who are in such pain that they would take someone's confidential information, shared in trust, and turn it back ~ turning it into ammunition.

I committed to the universe that I would not do the same thing. At least I would try very hard to not do the same thing.

I began to feel empathy, knowing what it is like to feel that way from the past, to be so wounded and so angry that using anything in my arsenal to "get back" at someone seemed justified.

Our conflict was minor. In fact, it was even a bit petty. No one's life will be changed - not mine nor theirs - by the interaction we shared. However, when you look at it in the bigger picture, it does ripple outward. From stream to river to lake to ocean, it grows and grows and before we know it, nations are doing the same thing.

I sent more lovingkindness. I sent healing their way, to all of them, that the things that hurt them inside will go away, that they can see the world as something other than a nail - and that they don't have to be hammers. And I sent lovingkindness to all of us so that none of us will have to feel like hammers in a world of nails.

It was a good exercise. Even though it is difficult, willingness is a good beginning. Even though it didn't feel "real" for a while, it was still worth doing.

I wish we would all take a few minutes each day to send lovingkindness to each other - globally or individually. That alone could change the world.

Have a good Sunday!

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Getting slimed....

If I had to make a wild guess, I'd say most of us have trouble with conflict.

I know I do.

But it also makes me grow. More than I thought possible.

Here's a very, very brief summary of what happened: I told someone that we are not a good match as friends. I wished her well, told her several positive things about herself and encouraged her to stay well.

Still, there were some personality characteristics that made it impossible for us to be friends. Sometimes it's important to admit that to people instead of walking away or disappearing. In my opinion, it's closure. It's honest. It offers everyone the opportunity to wish each other well and move on.

She wrote a message back that was horrible, accusatory and negative. She accused me of being a person who is "grossly afraid of intimacy" and went on to tell me all my perceived character deficits from her perspective.

If I'd walked away for a while, I probably would have stayed walked away. It was obvious she wasn't going to wish me well and let it go.

In a momentary fit of anger, I slimed her back. I fell right into the trap. I should have known better and didn't.

Still, I learned a lesson from this. I know I have a bad temper and that is not how it should have been done. I own it. I screwed up. There is no sense of satisfaction in it. It was wrong action. Period.

The person immediately began gathering her allies, writing public messages intended to bait me into blowing again. The three of them, like circling vultures, began picking at the bones of my private information, using it as a whip to wound me. The whole thing, objectively speaking, said far more about them than it did about my wrong action.

I didn't bite again. I let it go.

Here's what I learned: I have the right to simply say "These are not the kind of people I choose to know."

When I look around, I am surrounded mostly by positive, sensitive and mature people. My personal friends, I mean. They're truly good people.

There is nothing that requires any of us to compete, overcome or win. As Marianne Williamson says, we can be right.. or we can be happy. We can walk away without losing face. In fact, I believe we gain face by choosing our battles the way they should be chosen ~ which is based on some larger principle than being annoyed or pissed off.

Even though these people tried to goad me into a reaction, I noticed that I had none. I did chuckle a bit about the fact that I was commanding so much of their energy that they would send veiled messages intended to pick at my personal scabs but beyond that, nothing. I didn't feel bad for them. I didn't feel superior to them. I didn't feel anything... except a vague sense of having gnats flying around my ears.

I'd have to give them the power to affect me in any way .. which I won't.

These are people I simply don't choose to know.

I'd rather stayed focused on the positive, the wholesome and the uplifting. If anything, this incident has taught me that I have to consciously choose that and act accordingly.

Lesson learned.

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Sacred Life Sunday: Remembering the things that make us happy....

Well, this week I decided to blatantly snarf Olivia's idea and post six things that make me happy right now.

Today. At this very moment.

1) I am a freak for a pretty ring. Today, I was out wandering and found a beautiful mystic topaz ring. It was free for all intents and purposes. I had an old ring I no longer like and took it to Abla Jewelers. They made an even trade.

2) My little dog, Shanti, who seems to bring me pleasure each day, no matter what's going on in the outside world. She is a very good natured being who doesn't seem to let anything get to her. She's not demanding or annoying. Ever. She just continues to provide her unconditional love, no matter what I do.

3) Saturn The Chatterbox who has been bravely carting me all over the place, even though there is still some work to be done. I especially admire the fact that she putts on, even knowing that I really want one of these:



4) The declining scale. I am losing weight at a very healthy rate and am beginning to see the shifts and changes in my body shape. It's a good reminder that we do get to choose and we can take action and see positive results. That one took a long time to learn.

5) I'm very grateful for the friends who have come into my life over the past several months, and many who have been around longer, who have a very solid understanding that relationships of all kinds should always include "thank you" and "you're welcome". They understand that giving and getting is a beautiful flow.

6) I am also happy to get a blog acknowledgement from Olivia who passed this award along to me. Those who have read here for a long time know I don't typically deal with awards. However, coming from Olivia, I will because she is one of the most balanced, mindful people I know. And also, for someone who doesn't even know me personally, she has been gracious, kind, generous and always, always a delightful conversationalist. Thank you, Olivia. When will I get to say "you're welcome"? :)

I am going to pass these along to a few people and there is another award I have in mind for others. This one is a really good fit though for these folks :)

Susan at Guilty With An Explanation

Angela at Eclectic Recovery

Angel at Little Pea

Hele at Truth Cycles

Billie at Border Explorer

Maithri at The Soaring Impulse ~ (I don't think Maithri does awards but either way, if you are not visiting this site, you are really missing out on something truly beautiful and uplifting.)



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Sacred Life Sunday: Healthy Selfishness

It has only been for the past few months that I've understood on a fairly deep level that I have the right to be who I am.

Sound familiar?

It seems it is mostly women who get caught in this spiral, the belief that we should be all things to all people and even all things to all things.

While I am not caught up in the guilt spiral, I did get caught up in the belief that if I was going to be "good", I was going to be exceptionally good. That meant finding any and all possible hammers in my personal belief system and using them to beat myself up for not being "perfect" enough.

If I was going to be a good Buddhist, as an example, I should put the Dalai Lama to shame. I should be perfectly patient, perfectly serene, never state a preference, never *want* anything, especially anything from anyone else. I should never get angry, sad, frustrated and I should certainly never set a boundary on anyone else's behavior. I should never make a judgment and never turn anyone away.

It doesn't work. I doubt even the Buddha himself was quite so self-sacrificing. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, he did exactly what he wanted to do, exactly the way he wanted to do it.

The first truly selfish thing I ever did was to admit that I could no longer live the way I was in 2004 (journal entry from that time in the previous post). I used the medical system (legitimately) to get out of it. I got out of it to save my life. My life. No one else's. My life was valuable enough to do that.

[.....]

And then believed it was necessary to make penance for the rest of my life for the degree of happiness I found as a result of the freedom it allowed me. I was let out of one prison but began serving a sentence in a new prison.

I'm coming to realize that happiness is the natural state, not the one we only get as an occasional reward for being lowly, self-sacrificing and living small. Happiness is something we cultivate within ourselves, something we adopt as a way of life. It is not dependent on other people or cirumstances. It is healthy selfishness, along with generosity. Generosity without happiness is martyrdom.

It is the recognition that we have the right to be ourselves while not harming others. It's the willingness to admit that we can't be all things to all people. That's not even such a noble goal after all. Happiness (contentment) is a freedom all its own. It is probably the truest freedom there is.

We are here to be happy. We are here to be content. We are here to tell the truth. We are here to choose that. And I do. I take baby steps, learning how to assimilate who I am with what I have to offer.

In case you didn't see it, there was a comment last night from Heartsinsanfrancisco which I think is worth quoting here. It really says it all.

"As Thoreau said, "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them." Our life's songs are meant to be sung, so sing yours today and for all the days when you could not. "


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Revisiting the Past.....

Lately I've been clearing out a lot of old "stuff" in preparation for moving. While going through a drawer, I found this old journal entry, written on the back of a technical support call document. It was written during a work day. I wrote it three months before I was declared permanently disabled. Please understand when you read this that I was psychotically depressed at the time.

Still, it's occasionally a good idea to revisit the past, to see where we've come from and see how far we've come.

Nowadays, I find it hard to imagine I ever felt this way ~ day in and day out. What an incredible waste of precious life energy. If nothing else, it serves to make me very grateful for my life now. I haven't touched a place this dark in 4-5 years now.

Come back Sunday for my "Sacred Life Sunday" response to this entry.

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3/10/2004

Today has been an exceptionally hard day. It has taken everything I have to stay here ~ to look around me at all these vacant faces. It shouldn't be any surprise. These are people who have had the souls sucked out of them by erosion more than cataclysm. It's as though they've accepted their fate and sleepwalk through their days, accepting the worst of the world ~ drudgery.

It scares me to be around this. I am afraid of becoming one of them. It's said that in Haiti, they feed people oil from a particular breed of fish. I can't recall the name of the fish but it's used in a form of voodoo. The result is a type of brain damage that doesn't take away the ability to function. It just wipes out the soul and the spirit. They're called "zombies".

I actually called A**** B***** and begged him to get me back to B (former workplace). I never realized I could miss anything so much. In the absence of being able to go back to Barclays, I told him to send me to Mars or shoot me. I don't particularly care which. I don't care. I can't do this anymore.

I look around me here and realize I am looking at Hell. Not the ninth rung ~ not a Chinese sweatshop or a Russian gulag. No, this has that uniquely American flavor ~ the hell of being the underclass - the proletariat - those without a voice - those who give away their humanity for a few sheckles and some bread. The living dead.

I refuse to justify this by saying they "chose" it or are consenting to it with any autonomy. Some of them don't know any better and the others have acquiesced. Again, that uniquely American form of torture. No bamboo shoots under the toenails - just a slow descent into the black hole of despair.

Neitzsche ain't got nothin' on this form of soul death. While it is so blatant elsewhere, it is the subtlety - the insideousness - that makes it so effective.

My body is okay. It's battered and bruised but probably good for another twenty years or so. It is my mind that has disabled me. My refusal to forfeit my spirit - my determination to thwart them, my unwillingness to sink into non-personhood. The longer I am exposed to the elements, the more my spirit fights and the more it shatters.

I nearly cried from the futility, my inability to abort this process. It's seemingly beyond my control. My efforts mean nothing. It is meant to be. I need to accept that I can simply no longer do this and save myself.

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Sacred Contracts

Last weekend, I went to a psychic faire and had a few readings done. These are all "mini-readings", just to get a sense of the reader and how he or she connects.

I met a rather good one named Shannon. She is very good! I'm linking her here because she also does phone readings and email readings. That way, she's not limited to region or location. She's not wretchedly expensive.

Anyway, most of you who read here know I have been living in a less than optimum situation for quite a while. It's not just the constant interruptions and the lack of respect for my personal boundaries, but it is also a mirror of what I've created again and again.

I allow people to depend on me and expect nothing in return. Somehow I've allowed myself to believe that expecting anything in return will corrupt me and is a violation of my belief system which, believe it or not, is the only thing that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other sometimes.

Shannon told me that Housemate and I have had a previous lifetime together. During that lifetime, I was her daughter and devoted my entire life to taking care of her. It has carried over to this lifetime. That pattern has continued since I returned from Thailand the first time and rented from her. I'd known her previously through someone who rented from her and recommended her. All told, I've known her since 1997.

The pattern didn't come to full fruition until 2005 when she came down with a horrible case of shingles. I managed everything from her meals to her medication and also ran her errands. I didn't mind at all because I perceived it as not only my duty as a fellow human being but also figured it had a beginning, a middle and an end. She would recover from shingles and everything would return to normal ~ which is simply that I am a tenant, we are pleasant to one another and share minor, casual interactions.

It's been increasing engulfment since that time and I have allowed it to happen. Me. Not her. Me.

That is what I needed to learn. Lately I've backed off quite a bit and no longer remain at her beck and call. I finally got openly angry when she interrupted me in my bedroom which is an unspoken no-no.

The cork was finally put in the Engulfment Jug when she approached me the other day and said, "I guess from now on, you need to ask me if I've left anything in my car." She'd forgotten some purchased groceries overnight and had to throw them away.

My response: "I don't think I want to get that intense."

I noted that she was sitting in her car crying shortly after that conversation.

I didn't feel rotten or lousy. I didn't feel like I had to make it better. I didn't feel .... engulfed.

That contract between us, perhaps established hundreds of years ago, has come to an end. While I have no interest in being cruel to her or unpleasant, I no longer want my life consumed with her life concerns. I have my own.

That is not entirely selfish. It's selfish... but healthy selfish.

According to Shannon, that has been my primary lesson in this incarnation is to learn separation, how to learn to be my own Self while still serving others.

What do you do to avoid engulfment?


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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished....

Saturn says "beep beep" to all who welcomed her. :)

That was so out-of-character for me to write something like that but admittedly, it was fun!

Things are still clogged up around here, more than I like. There are some things I will be able to talk about when I get moved that I can't say much about right now.

I'm still waiting for notice from the housing complex. Waiting lists can be grueling because there's really nothing I can do to speed up the process. It's... um... a waiting list. I wait.

A few weeks ago, I joined Weight Watchers. Honestly? I love the program as far as the method used to determine what foods to eat. I've learned a lot. Their scales are awesome, practically to the ounce, and I like being able to track weight loss in such a precise manner. Even with all my easy-going, old hippie ways, I still like precise-ness.

The thing that makes me half nuts is going to the rah-rah meetings. I couldn't care less about stickers and public recognition. It makes me cringe. I'm too old for that kind of thing and I've never liked childish things. Even as a kid, I cringed at that kind of thing.

The question and answer part is great. That's at the very end. That means I have to sit through the rah-rah stuff if I want to ask questions.

All I can say is this: I'd better lose a ton of weight!

There's something really odd that happened here but it's not something I can discuss too openly on the Internet. It did freak me out though. It has to do with helping take care of an older person and getting turned into Adult Protective Services for it. It wasn't .. um.. the older person's fault. It was her doctor's nurse-practitioner's fault. She was suspicious because I make sure... the older person.. gets all of her medication. Because she's very sensitive to drugs, we've had to split the pills in half so she doesn't get the extreme side effects. The nurse wondered what happened to the other half of the pill. She thought perhaps I was taking them.

I was very angry. It wasn't pretty.

More on that after I've moved. Suffice it to say that very few good deeds go unpunished.


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The Car Whispering.....

Hello. I am a Saturn SL1 and I recently came to live at Chani's house. From my understanding (and don't expect much understanding from something named after a freezing cold, very distant planet) I am supposed to cart her around and take her where she wants to go. That sounds like a fine idea since that's what I am made to do but I won't be doing that until she fixes me. There are a few things wrong and I hurt a bit on the passenger side but it's nothing serious. Just like you humans, sometimes our joints get old and don't work so well but I'm going to get a new joint and be back in shape very soon.

What can I say? I was cheap, a good deal. All I require is a little bit of aftercare.

She likes me okay and that's what matters most. We Saturns are very vain. We want to be liked.

As one of my new and very strange duties, I'm writing for her because there's still a lot going on at her house. Again, nothing serious but just a lot of petty stuff. Believe me, sitting here in the carport, I hear it all! I think I've come to live at Dysfunction Junction! What a strange bunch of people. Putting up with humans is just part of my car-ma but let me tell you something. You're all very weird!

And then there's that darn Infiniti but we won't talk about that! If it could, it would probably stick its nose up at me. Hey, it sucks gas and gets dirty ~ just like me!

I'll tell you all the secrets one day. Meanwhile, I think I'll go drink up all my gas and see how she likes that! Did I mention that I'm passive-aggressive? Well, see how you would like having to live in a carport! It's cold out here. And when it's not cold, it's hot. And people come by and pull at my door handles to see if they can get in and steal my radio. Sheesh! It's not fun living out here.

She'll be back soon but wanted to introduce me since the lack of me was a large part of what's consumed so much time.



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And So It Goes On and On....

Today was the first hot day of the season here and I am just plain miserable! The older I get, the less I like being hot.

Anyway, I haven't been around here much since the accident because there's been a lot happening around me. I'm not sure how many of you might have to take care of an older person but it can be a challenge.

My housemate, which I may or may not have mentioned, is quite a bit older than me. By 26 years. Naturally, she is having more health issues as she gets older. She has three ungrateful children who can't seem to take time away from their busy lives to take care of her. Yesterday we spent at Urgent Care because she was having severe back pain. Today, we were at the clinic to see a doctor to confirm or change the diagnosis at Urgent Care. It was a day full of x-rays, waiting around for results and finally getting a treatment plan. Just like me, she's very sensitive to drugs so planning the distribution of medications is time-consuming. I have to pay very close attention to her reactions. I report to her doctor.

This is not something I'd ever planned on in my lifetime. At the same time, I don't feel like I can ignore it. Someone has to step up to the plate and since her kids won't, I'm the only one available.

I'm also still car-hunting. Granted, I'm picky.. but I'm not going to take on someone else's problems and it doesn't matter if it takes me three months. I use my housemate's car.. which I prefer anyway. She does have a very nice car... an Infiniti. I love driving it but now I'm spoiled for anything I can afford!

So if it seems like I'm more absent than usual, that's why. I do miss reading all my favorite sites but I'm so exhausted that I can barely put any energy into anything.

But I'll be back. It will probably be another few weeks. Hopefully by then, she'll be stabilized, I'll have the car thing handled and some of my own energy will return.

The energy part might be wishful thinking. I'm no spring chicken myself!

Be well!



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Susan Boyle and the Worldwide Exhortation....

I know. Everyone's writing about it and my take isn't particularly unique.

Skip the backstory. Everyone knows it.

This is an exhortation that is long overdue.

Only peripherally related, it still struck me as I was reading a book called "How the World Makes Love" by Franz Wisner. It's not about s*x. It's about courting customs throughout the world. It's a fascinating and fun book. The author also makes some very good points about mating rituals in the west.

In many other cultures, when someone seeks out a mate, he or she is far more concerned about someone's history, someone's family, temperament and the potential mate's character. This has always made far more sense to me which is part of the reason why I opted out of the "mating rituals" here. I'd rather be alone than be subjected to the humiliation of rejection based on petty, minor and inconsequential things. I dumped someone three years ago and that was my final and last foray into the dating world in any respect. I'm willing to be an old lady who owns a small dog than be subjected to that.

I think about Susan Boyle who is now viewed like some rare gem. Her outside doesn't reflect her inside... or does it?

Looking at the picture above, I'd say off the top of my head that she is a good-natured, sweet, kind, generous and unpretentious person. She is exactly the sort of woman I would like to include in my circle of friends.

The articles I've seen about her paint her as some pathetic creature who is "frumpy", "lives alone" and I don't recall if they mentioned whether she owns a cat. She has "never been kissed by a man". (A point in her favor, in my opinion.)

Digging a bit deeper, I discovered a few more factoids. She supports and takes care of her elderly mother. She is active in her church. She has sung for charities.

There are always two sides to every story. Each of us has talents and abilities that may not be acknowledged or register in the social arena. Perhaps the social arena is wrong? Perhaps it's time to grow past junior high school level judgments of other people?

We all know that. We all say it. Are we willing to take active measures to change our thinking?

That's the real test.

Meanwhile, I doubt Susan Boyle cares one little bit. Character is still king.


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