how to go for a walk in Seattle

This is not about having rain gear, a hoodie, or a cup of coffee and/or cell phone in hand. This is not about keeping your head down, eyes averted, not smiling, listening to your iPod. This is about keeping your head up, making eye contact, and smiling at those you walk by. Perhaps even saying, "hello!"

This morning I went for a walk around Greenlake. I could hear the freeway. Hearing this reminded me of the quiet, the silence, in Anacortes, and how I'll miss it when I move back to Seattle. But I know I can find some quiet spots. And I know now that it's in my best interest to make this move.

But the main thing I noticed and thought about during this walk was that most people I encountered looked very serious, and were looking down or straight ahead. No eye contact. No smiles. No words exchanged. And so after awhile I stopped looking. I stopped smiling. I started looking serious. And downward.

I thought about the walks I take in Anacortes. Always smiling. Open. Saying hello to everyone. So peaceful. So happy. So different from this walk at Greenlake in Seattle.

And then it hit me; it doesn't have to be SO different!

As long as I keep shining my light, my light will keep shining and perhaps create a chain reaction in those who are receptive. Just because people in certain places come across as less open and friendly doesn't mean that I need to close myself off, shut myself down. So what if my smiles and eye contact and "good mornings!" are not received well or at all by the majority of the people I walk by? So what? If I'm going to move back here, I need to remain strong in my sense of happiness and openness. I need to bring the small town attitude back into the big city! Or something like that.

And as I was thinking about this, while walking, my posture straightened up, chin tilted slightly up, eyes opened wider, smile came back onto my face-- and there was a witness. In this moment of transformation, I was witnessed by a stranger. He saw my light turning on and getting brighter. And I saw that it made him smile. I saw his light shine brighter.

Phew!

There is hope.

I can do this.

And so I will.

I will continue going for walks in Seattle as if I were still in Anacortes. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Open-hearted. Smiling. Saying hello. Knowing that not everyone will meet me where I'm at, but knowing that some will. And not only will it keep me feeling good, but I just might unexpectedly brighten somebody else's day. And lord knows we need as much brightness in Seattle as we can get! So let's turn our lights on, wherever we are, and share that light with those around us.

And THAT is how to go for a walk in Seattle.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

an unfamiliar familiar feeling

For the past 7 days I've felt more pain and discomfort in my body than I've felt in years. Thanks to an intense physical therapy session, something shifted, something was disturbed, or unsettled, opened up-- perhaps all for the better-- perhaps not--- My body is experiencing all sorts of aches and pains that weren't there before. And it's no fun. To be quite honest, it's been bringing me down. It's hard to be happy, to feel excited, to see and think clearly, when my body's crying out and all the old traumas and wounds are releasing their energetic holdings.

Over the past few years, since starting my qigong practice, and discovering continuum movement, and dancing more and more, I haven't actually felt as much pain or bodily discomfort as I had previously. Or maybe it just didn't bother me as much emotionally. But this is different. I'm all bent out of shape over it. Perhaps because of the newness. It's not the typical aches and pains. It's deeper. It's old. And it doesn't know what to do.

Last week my craniosacral therapist and I talked to my sacrum. Yes, we talked to my sacrum. Oh, and some scar tissue too. Sacrum presented as a curmudgeonly character who wasn't particularly happy where he had been, but who didn't really like being disturbed either. He (yes, my sacrum seems to be a he, at least last week and, yes, today, he's still a he)-- he knows where he needs to be, and he knows the importance of communicating and cooperating with the other parts of the body, but there's this reluctance. And fear. And also something structural in the way. And that's where scar tissue comes in. Over-protecting. Getting in the way.

Perhaps I just need some more patience. And acceptance. Perhaps I could even be grateful for this reminder of what it's like to live with such a sharp and unsettling type of pain. It's been so long-- not only have I not had such intense pain in a long time, but I've just gotten so accustomed to living with some mild degree of discomfort that I'd sort of forgotten just how distressing it can be. How it can take over.

So for now I'm just going to listen to and obey my body as best I can: Slow down. Stop. Be easy and gentle. Allow movement. No force. Shhhhhh......



© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

a meaningless what?!

something about the size or format on the previous screen made the title of my blog appear as "a meaningless ho," and that made me laugh.

that's all.

now maybe i'll write about what i was about to write about....


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

the word "tolerate"

i don't like it.
after posting that blog entry a little while ago, the whole tolerance and intolerance thing left a bad taste in my mouth.

tolerate means "to put up with." ugh. yuck. that's yucky.
how about "accept" instead?

yeah, if beech helps me tolerate, i don't want it. but it helps me accept, well, that's a good thing.

or am i being too intolerant of this word?

maybe i'm just in denial. maybe putting up with certain things and people is a part of life. but with an attitude adjustment, it wouldn't be "putting up with." it would be something else. something more positive. and why not choose to experience life in a more positive way? it's still important to acknowledge and feel the yuckiness, the negative, the dark, etc. but....hmmmmm.... can you accept something but not put up with it? can you put with something but not accept it? hmmmmm......



© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

agrimonious beech

packing my bag for a couple of days in seattle, i open up my supplements drawer in the kitchen and take out some bach flower remedies. i have quite a collection, but typically use the same 4-6 on and off, as needed. today i was drawn to one i have rarely used: beech.

beech "helps you to be more tolerant and see the positive in others despite their imperfections." i wondered if i needed a little dose of this. so i figured i'd test it out. but i couldn't open it. i knew i could with pliers. but i decided to take it as a sign: i'm already plenty tolerant and see the positive in others despite their imperfections. in fact, maybe i'm too tolerant-- is that even possible? see? i'm so tolerant that intolerance seems foreign to me, although i suspect that intolerance is a healthy response at times. and, actually, now that i think about it, yes, i am capable of intolerance. it's just that there are some things/people/situations in the grey fuzzy area of "to tolerate or not to tolerate?"

so, perhaps i'd be better off with some agrimony, which "helps you communicate your true feelings rather than hide behind a cheerful face." do i do that? hide behind a cheerful face? probably not. i used to hide behind an uncheerful face. is that a word? but now i wonder if i ever hide behind a cheerful face. probably not. hiding's not my style. at least not consciously. and so if it's not consciously, is it authentic cheerfulness or tolerance and not hiding at all? is it just the mind and the story that develops later that bring out the so-called "true" repressed or suppressed feelings? hmmmmmm......


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

come and gone

so many blog entries have come and gone without making it out of my head. it's been a long time since i've posted anything here. and that's ok. i thought i would tonight. but i'm sleepy. and blank. and feeling censored because what i really wanted to write about tonight was all the communications i've been receiving just over the past few days from ex's, and so seemingly out of the blue. ex's as in ex-husband, ex-abstinent-lover, ex-potential-lover, ex-i-don't-know-what-to-call-him, but at least two of them are probably reading this (hi.), so now i don't want to. i just want to curl up in a ball and sleep, wake up not needing to speak, not needing to write back, not questioning what was already written or said, not questioning what will be said or written. just being. clear and open and free and light. and so i will. curl up in a ball and sleep now. wake up tomorrow, sprawled out, arms and eyes and heart open wide.


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Crazy Bitch Remover, please

Is there a product out there like that? Bitch Be Gone or something?
Something to energetically remove the bad vibes I just got from this crazy bitch I just encountered?

I thought I was safe. I know how extra sensitive and open I am after receiving a massage. But I thought I'd be safe going into the health food store in Anacortes. But as soon as I walked in the door, I heard her ranting about some woman on a cell phone and how rude that is. I should have turned around and walked right back out that door. But no. I stayed away from this woman for as long as I could, but then I wanted to look at the B vitamins. She was standing right next to them. I didn't want to say anything, out of fear of her reaction. So I just sort of snuck in, slid by, to grab a bottle off of the shelf. And suddenly her eyes were up from the book she was reading, big and wide and angry and on me. "Excuse me," she said, with major attitude. And then she started going off on some rant about manners and personal space. At first I bit my tongue, but then I told her that I figured I'd have disturbed her more by saying, "excuse me." Well that set her off even more. I thought she was gonna hit me. Again, I had to bite my tongue. It was so tempting to get into it with this lady. As peacefully so as possible on my end. But I was still in this altered state from my massage and somewhat afraid this woman might turn physically violent; she was already verbally and energetically there. So I retreated and got the hell out of there. Not super disturbed, but disturbed enough.

So as I walked to my car, I wondered if there was some sort of product, a spray, like an aura protection spray. And actually there is. I have a bottle of it. It's called "Cloud of Protection." And I'm going to go use some right now. And then maybe go for a walk to let the wind cleanse me.


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Letting Go (of me)

We hear it all the time. Let go of this. Let go of that. Let go of him. Let go of her. But what about letting go of ourselves? What about loving ourselves enough to let go of self-imposed limitations, habitual ways of thinking or seeing ourselves or being? How about loving ourselves enough to just let go, to live and love freely? How about trusting enough to feel safe and supported in opening up and revealing both our strengths and vulnerabilities?

Last night as I was driving back to Anacortes, I was listening to the radio and heard some song lyrics like, "I love you enough to let you go." And that got me thinking about love and attachment and detachment and letting go. Actually, I think I was already thinking of those things. But hearing this song somehow took my thoughts in another direction.

I started thinking about self-love and feeling worthy of love and what that looks like. And that's when I heard these words in my head: "I love myself enough to let myself go."

Is it true? Do I? Last night they were just words, just an idea. But tonight, they turned into this question. As I was walking around the marina a little while ago thinking about this, I saw an image that I had seen on Friday: hands wrapped around my lower spine.

On Friday, during a CranioSacral turned SomatoEmotional Release session, this image came to me. They were not my hands. They were large, strong, manly hands belonging to some god-like being or angel perhaps. They had been there since my accident, holding me together, protecting me from feeling pain. So the session turned into an opportunity to let these hands know that they were no longer needed, that what was once helping was now hindering, now harmful. They were slow to let go, but they did start to fade. And tonight when I remembered this image while thinking about loving myself enough to let myself go, I heard the question: "Do you love yourself enough to let yourself go?" And with that I crumbled. Momentarily, but powerfully. Stopped in my tracks to shed a few tears. Feeling some fear and sadness but also gratitude for this illumination, for this reminder to step this self-love and letting go thing up a notch.

I actually have been loving myself up and letting myself go more and more over the past several months, more so than ever. But what would it feel like to let go even more? What would it look like and feel like and be like to love myself enough to let myself go more completely, to trust enough to release any remaining overprotective mechanisms that go against my greatest good? And as I ponder that, I see those hands fading again. I see myself crumbling again. But not because I need those hands to hold me up. But because I don't. And that release brings relief. I feel my body soften and sink, and I see myself crumble in sweet surrender. I see myself rise back up, stronger and more open than ever.



© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

why i love her

i don't love my gramma just cuz i have to. i don't love her because without her i wouldn't be alive. and i don't love her for making the best rice pudding, meatballs, pineapple cake, and smores on the planet. i love her because of what she's been telling me the past few years.

when i moved to sedona in the fall of 2005, that's when it started. she turned into this ultra-supportive wise woman, encouraging me to do what i love, live it up, be happy, etcetera, etcetera.

"growing old isn't for sissies. do what you want now, while you're still young. have fun. do everything you can now."

prior to this, i don't remember her being that way. most of what i remember her saying was either worries over the state of the world we're living in or worries over what she was going to feed me when i visited.

today i called her. it had been several months. i like calling randomly, not for any special occasion. but the last time i called was for her birthday in may, i think. and today, in addition to the above messages, she also said, "sometimes a good relationship is better than a marriage. what do you think?"

well, i was a little speechless. and smiling. but also wondering if i should be disturbed, wondering if she was saying that because of her own marriage. i didn't tell her that one of the main reasons i got a divorce was because i didn't want to end up like her. i love my grandparents, but their marriage is not one that serves as a good example.

so i just tell her, "yes. sometimes a good relationship is better than a marriage. and i don't know if i'll ever get married again."

and then she surprises me by saying something like, "look, becky, you can do whatever you want. what you do with your life is up to you." and the way she says it is so pure and supportive. i see it written here and recognize that it could come across as negatively. but it wasn't like that. it was beautiful.


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

if this wig could talk, i'd have to get out the duct tape

I'm sitting on my couch brushing out my wigs, even though I doubt I'll be wearing any of them this weekend. You never know though, and they've been boxed up for a couple of years, so very much in need of some untangling.

This third one I start brushing out brings a smile to my face. She's been used the most, mostly at Halloween with my Little Red Riding Hood costume, the costume I had decided to retire this year, but am now tempted to throw it in my car just in case she wants to come out and play this weekend when I'm down in Seattle.

I smile as I brush through this matted wig, as I remember someone else wearing it. A fuzzy memory towards the end of a wild night in Bellingham a couple of years ago. I'm left speechless, or rather typeless, as I remember that night. And then I remember another night, the night of my moving-to-sedona party in 2005. The photos from that are in a folder titled "blackmail," appropriately so. For the sake of story-telling, it's sort of too bad that I'm so respectful of the privacy of others involved in those nights. But perhaps some stories, some experiences, are better off remaining private. Perhaps sometimes it really is best to "keep it to yourself." And that's why I don't blog more often. I hate censoring myself. So sometimes I'd rather just not share at all....


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

a not so meaningless hobby

i think i once posted an entry explaining how i came up with the name of this blog. a dear friend shared a michael brown article about the new year, something about the importance of having a meaningless hobby. and so i started this blog. i suspected that the meaningless hobby would become meaningful at some point. perhaps that's the whole point of a meaningless hobby.... i think so.

so now i think about changing the name, but i don't, at least not today.....

(hey, sasha, thanks for the "kick ass blog" suggestion months ago; i just might use that when i'm ready to make the change! ;) )


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Do you see what I see?

Do you see what I see?

Do you see my scar?

Do you see the horrific images I see, the memories of riding in, and crashing in, that car?

For most of my life I couldn’t see beyond the scars. I couldn’t look at my body with love and acceptance. But that started before the accident. That started with some of the kids I went to school with who told me I was fat. Looking back, I wasn’t. At least not at first. But I sure did become so, for several years. And then, right when I was getting in shape, BAM! Car wreck. Body wrecked. Injuries. Surgeries. Disconnected. Not wanting to see. Unable to feel.

It’s not until 10 years later that I start getting back into my body. I left it the night of the accident. More than once. And continued this for years. Coming and going, but mostly going and rarely coming back in fully and deeply enough to stay and heal all that needed to be healed.

Sheng Zhen Qigong started getting me moving more, opening my heart, healing the disconnection. Feeling happy, so disgustingly happy for the first time in years.

Continuum Movement came next, bringing me more and more into my body, waking it up more and more. More to feel. More to experience. More to discover. More to release. More fully alive.

And then Ecstatic Dance comes into my life. It came so recently, but feels like a lifetime ago. So much more has opened up, shifted, changed. For the better. The best time in my life is now.

And so this past summer, the summer before my thirtieth birthday, it finally happens. I see myself without my scar. Instead of a scar, I see a tree with a snake wrapped around it. It’s been painted, or rather magic markered on me. And this body art, this drawing allows me, for the first time in 13 years, to see myself without my scar. For the first time in my life, the sight of my body makes me jump up and down and fill with glee.

And then something else happens. I see beyond the tree and the snake. I see my scar. I see me. And although I don’t jump up and down, I do smile. I see the beauty. I feel at peace.

I’m sick of hiding and covering up and over-protecting this body of mine. It’s time to let it all hang out, so to speak. Time to release this captive body. Time to release the stories as well, which is partially why I’m sharing this picture and this part of my story here. And this little piece of writing doesn’t even do justice to this story-- it’s just the tip of the iceberg….There’s so much more to it. Not just in terms of my own story(ies), but in terms of trauma and body image and society and the body and sexuality and love and self-acceptance and on and on…..

Book in progress...

….yes, 200+ pages already written….So close to finishing, yet so far away…..It’s tempting to stay home all weekend and write and edit and edit and write. But I’m off to Seattle again to celebrate my body. Body Electric workshop, here I come!

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Instead of Reston, part 3

Instead of Reston on Saturday, I rested. Slept in, ate breakfast, slept some more. Hibernated. It was pouring rain, and it felt good to stay in and not do much. I didn’t even write. I thought I would. I thought I’d spend at least a day just focused on writing during these days of vacation at home. But no. And eventually I got off of my couch, out of my pajamas, into a cocktail dress, and out the door to attend a “formal attire” party down several blocks away. It was fun. I met some new people. I met a woman who said she sometimes just stares at my ad’s picture in the Clamdigger; she said it’s so inviting. And she wasn’t hitting on me. And she assured me a few times that she wasn’t stalking me. We had a long conversation about career transitions and CranioSacral Therapy. It was good. After a couple of hours I left, unsure of whether or not I’d go to the Jazz Walk again, knowing I needed to go home and check in. And when I got home, I knew it was time to get back into bed and sleep again, and so I did.

Instead of Reston on Sunday, Reston came to me. Reston came to me in the form of a new man in my life who happens to be from there. What a strange coincidence. And it’s only one of several synchronicities and such that have come up while getting to know this man over the past couple of weeks. Sharing the same birthday is one of them. I’ve never met anyone ever with the same birthday. Everywhere I go and everyone I meet, all types of relationships provide mirrors, but spending time with someone who has the same birthday as me takes the whole mirroring thing to another level. So if astrology is b.s., well then, I don’t know how to explain…. Maybe just more coincidences and synchronicities regardless of birthdays? Maybe just a heightened awareness and seeking out of such things? Who knows. Doesn’t matter. But it sure is interesting. And fun. And easy. And rich.

And instead of Reston on Monday, I thought I’d go to a movie in the afternoon. But instead a friend came over for a little healing touch. I thought I’d go to a movie after she left, but instead went out for hot chocolate with another friend. And we ended up discussing what it might be like to collaborate on a workshop or two, combining her life coaching programs with my Sheng Zhen Qigong instructions and some guided meditation. Very exciting. And then I thought I might go for a walk, but instead just walked a few blocks to the library to check my email, and on my way there got a text from another friend who was at the library and wondering if I wanted to go for a walk. YES! So in the flow. Funny to see my three main Anacortes lady friends all in one day, one after the other. Funny that I still haven’t made it to the movie theatre since my first attempt on Thursday. I’d say maybe today or tomorrow, but one of the things I’ve learned by not going to Reston is how to stop planning— no, no, that’s a lie! Too extreme. I’m not there yet. What I’ve learned though is how to observe those ideas and plans passing through my head while being open to something else arising spontaneously, organically. More authentic. More full and in the natural flow of things.

And now I’m off to Seattle for a couple of days. Although I do have an appointment today and two appointments tomorrow, I actually have less planned out for Seattle than usual, and it feels really, really good…..


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Instead of Reston, part 2

Friday. In Reston, the Waves of Consciousness workshop started. Continuum AND CranioSacral Therapy. Together. Emilie Conrad and Suzanne Scurlock Durana. I feel a twinge of anxiety over missing out on spending 5 days with these two amazing women. But that's ok. I'll go another time. Or I won't. Doesn't matter.

Despite that little twinge, I'm still so happy that I canceled. I thought I might spend Friday and today doing my own little workshop, spending hours with Full Body Presence, Continuum, and Qigong. But no.

I did start my day with Zhongtian Yiqi, the non-moving form of Sheng Zhen Qigong. Although I think of this form as somewhat of a foundation for the other forms, I rarely practice it. But now I just might be hooked. It was amazing. I'm not so sure I spent much time meditating, but while listening to the c.d. I experienced some intense releases and realizations about my body and self-healing. I don't even remember clearly enough now to share. But it was moving and powerful.

I felt inspired to write afterwards, but my hunger got the best of me. And then I went shopping. All day. This is not a common occurrence for me, to spend the whole day out shopping, but that's what I did. So much for the solo-workshop idea! Instead I got the zipper fixed on my favorite coat. It's been waiting for me to do that for, oh, I'd say at least a year, maybe two. I also got some things for house projects, like hooks and a curtain rod, and a duster. How this took my whole day, I do not know. Oh, because I also looked at Halloween costumes--

This blog is boring me. Is it boring you?

Too bad I didn't write yesterday morning when I was so inspired. Maybe it will come back to me. Surely it will.....

Oh, something fun that happened was the Jazz Walk last night. I was lying around in my pajamas, thinking I wouldn't go. But then I realized how crazy that would be. How many times have I complained about there not being much to do here, and then when there is I'm not going to go? Crazy. So I went.

Walking down the street in the rain, wondering if I'd feel strange "going out" in Anacortes. It's such a rare occurence. And alone?! Well, I figured I'd run into people I know. Not friends, but clients and acquaintances. And I did. And it wasn't strange.

First I saw Thomas Marriott trio. He was in jazz band with my brother in high school. I wasn't crazy about the music; it was ok. But I stayed for quite a long time because I was enjoying the swiveling stool at the bar. It allowed me dance in my seat even better than in a typical stationary stool or chair. I was one of the only people "dancing." I wish more people would dance more often. Then again, for so many years, for most of my life, I was one of those people feeling frozen and locked in, self-conscious, dis-connected, inhibited.

What a relief to be free. And I know that even more progress, more blossoming, unraveling, more full body/mind/spirit aliveness lies ahead.


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Instead of Reston

Instead of getting on a plane from Seattle to D.C. at 9 a.m. this morning, I found myself lying on my couch, in my house, in Anacortes. Smiling. On the phone with Renee in Norway. Happy to be here, instead of in the air and on my way to a 5-day workshop in Reston, Virginia.

The last time I canceled a trip—the trip to Croatia for Qigong teacher training this summer—all kinds of wonderful things happened in that time and space created by deciding to just stay here, to just be here, to just be. Enough with the going, going, going, and doing, doing, doing. Enough already.

I wondered if it might be interesting to write about what unfolds over these next few days, since although I didn’t leave, I’m still not seeing clients again until next Thursday or possibly even the following Monday, and not teaching next week’s qigong class. Sounds sort of like a vacation. Here at home? Yes. What a concept.

And so today it began with that call from Renee. What happened next? What happened next was a handyman came over to fix my doors and also do some re-caulking that’s been needed ever since I moved in, more than a year ago. And while he was here, I spent nearly 2 hours in my basement. Cleaning and organizing and finding hidden treasure, like the key to my diary from 3rd grade. Not that I need the key; the diary’s never been locked. But it was fun to discover it. And it was fun to finally give my basement some attention. Since January’s flood, I hadn’t spent much time down there. Not only was I often away from home, but the memories in that basement were too painful! I was such a wreck when it flooded. But now my basement looks just as good, if not better, than before the flood. And I am pleased.

After the handyman left, I went to the library for a little internet time, and when I went back outside, the clouds had cleared, and the blue sky and sun were calling me to take a walk instead of driving to Bellingham to return some clothes and see a movie. And so I listened. I thought I’d drive to Mount Erie, but I must have missed the turn off, because before I knew it, I was at Bowman’s Bay, which was more than fine with me. I love Bowman’s Bay. That’s where I spent my birthday afternoon on the beach this year.

As I walked along the beach and then through the forest trail up to a lookout point, I took in my surroundings, wishing I knew the names of more trees and plants. Maybe I’ll start learning. At the lookout point, I practiced Kuan Yin Standing Qigong next to a Madrona tree. As I looked out at the bay and the ocean, I thought about how small I am—no, I didn’t really think about it so much as feel it, in a good way. And as I looked at the trees and the land, I thought about how long they’ve been here and how long they’ll remain, and just how fleeting this life, my life, is. I felt some sense of relief about how I and other humans just come and go so fast in the grand scheme of things. While twirling qi above my head, I laughed as I finally got it, really got why Master Li always talks about “no worries.” Not that nothing matters, but that there’s no point in worrying. And as my mom says, “Worry is the misuse of imagination.” So true, so true.

After my practice, I walk back to my car and drive home. I get in bed and listen to a couple of Full Body Presence Explorations. And then I feel like dancing, but after about 5 minutes, I’m hungry and eat a snack while fast-forwarding through Top Gun. It’s just not what I remember it being. And so I turn it off and write this instead.

Ta da!

Day 1, almost done.....


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

a funny thing happened last week....

Last Thursday I woke up at 2, after only 4 hours of sleep. Luckily I did not have any clients scheduled. By the early afternoon, I was totally loopy. I shouldn't have been driving, but I had some errands to run, and on my way home, I drove by my house but didn't turn in to park my car because I was too distracted by what I saw. Or more accurately what I did not see.

As I passed my driveway, I momentarily panicked as I thought, "Crap, where's my car?!"

And just as soon as the thought ended, I realized that I was in my car. Obviously.

I had to laugh.

And then I had to take a nap.


© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

death, luna breath, or just bad drivers....

Yesterday I'm driving in Seattle, and a cop car begins to pull out in front of me, causing me to slam on my breaks just inches away from hitting it. Everything on my front seat flies forward onto the floor, and I feel as though my heart has leaped out of my chest. If a car had been behind me, I would have been rear-ended. The cop car stops, allowing me to continue. After I give the cop the evil eye, I do continue. And less than two minutes later, another car pulls out in front of me. I don't need to slam on my breaks this time, but wtf? And then it happens again , and I think, "What the hell is going on here? It's as if they don't see me. Am I dead? I'm half-serious and half-laughing at myself as I ponder this. I come to the conclusion that I'm not dead, but I may have been doing the luna breath without realizing it. This is a type of breath taught my Emilie Conrad, who developed Continuum Movement. It's a type of breath that makes people less aware of your presence, and you're not supposed to use it while driving. Seriously. Apparently it's been used as a form of protection, but if used while driving, it can be dangerous. But maybe I wasn't luna breathing, and certainly I was not dead. So maybe that cop and the other two cars were just bad drivers. Plain and simple. But oh how boring of an explanation that would be!

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

The Last Night of My Twenties

Sitting in Johnny Picasso’s in Anacortes for Open Mic. Tonight’s the last night of my twenties.

I certainly hadn’t pictured myself here on this night. But here I am. And I’m glad. So what if I’m not out dancing the night away to say goodbye to my twenties? It’s not like I’ll never dance in my thirties. Surely I’ll be dancing even more. And sometimes what we picture isn’t meant to be. Sometimes what happens instead is even better.

Some beautiful flute music just ended. Actually a duet. Flute and keyboard. And it moved me deeply, nearly to tears.
The girl sitting near me says to the musicians, “That was beautiful; it made me want to cry.”
“Me too,” I say. “I felt like crying. In a good way.”

A couple of minutes later though and I’m almost laughing. Not from the music, but from what I see when I flip open the Clamdigger to my ad. I had been thinking I’d cut my ad out and tape it up on the wall next to my qigong brochure that Trish had taped up. But I can’t cut out my ad, because somebody’s marked it up, and I couldn’t be happier about that. There’s a star at the top of the ad, a circle around “CranioSacral Therapy,” and my phone number’s been circled and starred too. This makes me smile. Especially because of the attention given to CranioSacral Therapy.

And now, thanks to that little business-related confidence boost, and thanks to some funky keyboard music, I feel a 2nd wind coming on. So maybe I will go dance the night away up in Bellingham, or at least back in my living room.

* * *

During my walk home, I think I’m going to get in my car and drive north. But the moon catches my eye and won’t let go. Unless something obstructs my vision, I can’t take my eyes off of this moon. It’s full, or about to be tomorrow night.

I was born on a full moon. I think about this as I continue walking. Thinking back to being in the womb, ready to come out into this world.

I’m so entranced by the moon and distracted by thoughts of my birth that I almost walk past my house. When I realize this, I think “so what?” and keep walking. I walk through the courtyard of the Depot Arts Center and out to the marina.

There’s a movement in one of the forms of Qigong I teach called “Qui Er Gazing at the Moon,” in which we imagine gazing up at the moon. So that’s what I want to do.

I want to practice Kuan Yin Standing Qigong out by the water, in the actual (not imagined) moonlight. And so I do.

Instead of dancing with a bunch of sweaty drunk people at a club, I dance with the qi and the moonlight and the rocks of the beach beneath my feet. I feel free and alive. And, man, it feels good.

So this is how I say goodbye to my twenties. And if I hadn’t gone to Johnny Picasso’s for open mic, I probably wouldn’t have gone for a walk. If I hadn’t gone for a walk, it’s quite possible I wouldn’t have noticed the moon. And if I hadn’t noticed the moon, it wouldn’t have been able to call me out to the sea for this exquisite exchange of qi. So thank you, Johnny Picasso’s. And thank you, twenties; these past ten years have been quite a ride, quite a ride indeed.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Faith

After an amazing week at Esalen, I felt some sadness as I let the water drain out of the tub on Monday morning. I'd be leaving that day. And part of me wanted to stay. I couldn't bare the thought of needing to wear a bathing suit to go swimming! HA! I wondered if Heartwood was open or if I would feel comfortable at Harbin. I considered going up to the Esalen office, and asking to stay another night as a personal retreater, but no. I didn't want to. I felt very clear that I was ready to leave, ready to get back on the road, not knowing where I'd go next other than that I'd be driving north.

After lunch I thought about taking one final soak in the tubs. I'd said my goodbyes. And my bags were in my car. But I decided to hit the road. It was time to go. Time to see where the day would take me. I felt a little separation anxiety about leaving. And a little nervous about not knowing where I'd be going. And just as I was walking to my car, Faith arrived.

She worked at Esalen but had been gone all week. I knew her through a mutual friend, Word. I was planning to call him from the road to let him know I was around and to see if we could meet up. I asked her if she knew where he was, if he was in Monterey or the Bay area.

"Oh, I just saw him. He's working at Cornucopia right now in Carmel. He'll be there until 7."

"Really?!?" Carmel was just 45 minutes away. And I loved the idea of surprising him. Just showing up in this little health food store without any warning. He didn't even know I was at Esalen, unless he'd seen my Facebook status!

So I asked Faith for directions, and I was on my way.

As soon as I walked through the door, we saw each other. It was so good to see him. As we hugged, I felt so comforted by his familiar smell. My dear, dear friend. And teacher.

He said that after work he'd be going down to Esalen as Faith's guest. I wanted to be back at Esalen with Word!

He said I could go back, that he was getting off work at 4 and that Faith could probably add me to the guest list too. There was no way to contact her or know if that would work out ahead of time. But we could at least enjoy a drive together. I told Word I needed to go outside and check in with myself about whether or not I really wanted to go back. But when I went outside, instead of "checking in with myself," I found myself just making phone calls to let a few people know that I was going back.

The drive back took about an hour, and I must have been smiling the whole time. It felt so good to share my new self with an old friend.

It felt so good to not even care if I wouldn't actually be able to stay another night as a guest, to just enjoy being in the present. In the past I would have dreaded the thought of all that extra driving, especially without knowing for sure if I could stay or where I'd be staying. None of that mattered though. Being in the car with Word, with no expectation or agenda, was all that mattered.

Right before getting to Esalen, Word told me to turn left.

"We can't go on the property until tomorrow. This is where Faith lives. I guess I didn't mention that before."

I was surprised. I was surprised that I was NOT disappointed or irritated. Hallelujuah!

Faith wasn't home, but we were welcome at her place. We snuggled up, took a nap, and then sang and danced to Erykah Badu, Frank Sinatra, and Michael Jackson.

It

was

so

much

fun!

"I feel like I could live here," I told Word, feeling so at home and happy.

"You do live here. You are living here."

"Yes, that's true. I am living. Living wherever I am, in the moment. Finally!"

Eventually we went next door for a birthday party. Faith still wasn't home, and Word said that if she didn't put me on the guest list by midnight, I wouldn't be allowed on Esalen property the next day. But I wasn't worried. "Faith may not be home, but faith is right here, inside of me!" I joked with Word.

But it was true. I did have faith. I felt so much trust in the mystery and the unknown.

And when Faith showed up before midnight and asked if I wanted to spend the next day at Esalen, I said "No."

I was somewhat surprised. What had happened to my ideas about going back on property for another soak and swim and more yummy food? What had happened was that I was getting better and better at freeing myself from my ideas and thoughts. Getting better at listening to my gut. And my gut said to get back on the road in the morning, that this time near Esalen with Word and the Esalen staff was enough.

Faith asked if I was sure. For a split second I questioned myself, and then I questioned her, "Are you calling the gate now? Do you need to know now?"

"Yes, I need to know right now," she said firmly.

And looking Faith in the eyes, I firmly replied, "Yes, I'm sure. Save your guest pass for someone else."

I slept well that night, on Faith's couch. And I woke up the next day excited for the unknown adventure ahead.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Jumping in

I did it! I did it! I jumped into the water.

This is a big deal.

I haven't jumped in since I was 9 or 10. And jumping in again was on my list of things to do before turning 30 in September.

I'm not quite ready to cross it off my list though. I still need to FULLY jump in. I'm at a hotel in Ashland, Oregon, and I went down for a swim. Nobody was around, so I thought now might be a good time to practice jumping in.

First I just climbed up the ladder, and before getting out completely, let myself fall into the water. No problem. After a few times, I got out of the water completely and let myself fall into the water from somewhat of a squatting position. I was surprised by how easy it was. I was surprised that I did not feel any panic.

In the past, one thing that would happen was a panic response when water would get into my ears. I thought it was psychological, but my mom recently told me that it's not purely psychological, something about my anatomy and finding out that there was something going on with my left ear when I was a baby. But maybe that physical "defect" got worked out through all the CranioSacral therapy I've been receiving? Who knows; I'm just glad it didn't interfere with my experience today. And maybe it will never be a problem again.

Now, back to jumping in. So after a few more times of sort of dropping into the water. I actually stood up and jumped in.

It felt wonderful. I felt this great sense of accomplishment and liberation. Liberation from my silly fears and hesitations.
The body knows what to do. It's the mind that gets in the way.

Next, I need a deeper pool so I can REALLY jump in. And then an open body of water instead of a contained swimming pool? And then what about DIVING in? Diving was not on my list, but I would like to work up to that. Maybe it won't even take so long to "work up to." After all, I just jumped in today, and previously I had thought I'd need to take some more swimming lessons. But I didn't need that. I just needed the right time and place, and some privacy, to do it on my own.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

A swim to remember

Thursday afternoon at my parents' house, I walked down to the dock to test the water. It was too low to feel by letting my foot dangle in. So I climbed down the little wooden ladder to dip my toes in. The water was surprisingly warm.

Excited to go in (it had been a couple of years), I rushed back up the steps and into the freezing cold air conditioned house. Found my bathing suit, wishing I didn't need to. Called Anshu to say she could come over any time. Listened to a message from Tim but had to get a swim in before calling back. Went back upstairs and found my mom standing in the kitchen wearing a t-shirt she’d bought in Jamaica 15 years ago. It said “No problem.” I thought it was funny considering the worry she had expressed earlier about me camping alone.

I told her I was going swimming, knowing she'd probably worry a little about me swimming alone, but also knowing that she had no interest in coming outside; she doesn't like the heat.

So I went back down to the lake, walked out to the end of the dock. The wood was grey, faded from the sun. It had a neglected feel to it. Not visited enough.

I wasn't ready to jump in. But without the hesitation that I often used to feel about going in the lake, I excitedly climbed down the other cobweb-covered ladder at the deep end of the dock.

I climbed down the ladder and got in faster than ever before. Partially because of the temperature. But partially because I just felt more comfortable. Less holding back. Less fear.

It felt so good to be in the water.

I realized that never before had I felt so good swimming in the lake. Even when I was a little girl and giggling and having fun with friends, there was always a fear. I couldn’t even look under the dock or let my legs dangle straight down. My fears weren't even as much about drowning as they were about totally unrealistic things.

But today none of those silly fears got in my way. Seaweed kept wrapping itself around me, and instead of creeping me out or irritating me, I danced with it.

I enjoyed floating, bobbing up and down with the waves, rather than getting disturbed or frightened by the waves enough to stop floating. I used to try to avoid or fight the waves, move into them, rather than move with them. It felt so much better just surrendering and trusting and relaxing and enjoying the ride. Smiling. Breathing. Arms open wide.

I got out of the water, walked down to the other end of the dock, and decided to visit the shallow part of the lake, see what it felt like to walk in the water with my "new legs." I'd just come home from a CranioSacral session in which there was some major re-connecting with my legs. And walking actually did feel different, better, both on dry land and in the lake.

And then I conquered another childhood lake fear: swimming out towards the end of the dock. Why was this scary? I don't really know. I think part of it had to do with a little seaweed forest and not wanting anything touching me. But I no longer cared about that. In fact, I liked the feel of the seaweed touching me. So I did it. I swam through it, and it was great.

I also looked under the dock. No change in heart rate. No fear of sharks or sea monsters.

I smiled.

I wondered why I had always been so afraid. What was I so afraid of?

And then I saw my mom looking out from the inside the house. I waved. And I laughed as I realized that part of my fear was probably born into me. From my mother’s breathing pattern and nervous system. Part of it was from things she’d say, not about water, but just about being careful. And part of it had been from watching Jaws and other horror movies at an early age. Oh, and part of it was from getting swept under in Italy. And maybe part of it even has to do with a past life issue.

A couple of years ago, during a rolfing session, while the therapist worked on my left calf, I felt something shoot up towards my head, developed vertigo that would last for a month, and saw an image of a weight being tied to my left ankle or calf to way my body down into the water. Who knows if it was just my imagination or if there are past lives. I don't know. But as I've been saying about a lot of things lately: I'm open to the possibility.

It doesn't really matter why I was afraid though. What matters is that I'm not anymore. I was so pleasantly surprised by this swim. I will never forget it.

--> © 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved. 

Dancing on the plane

On my drive down from Anacortes to Mercer Island, I thought about the journey ahead of me, the hours of driving. On Friday I'm heading further south, back down to Esalen. I woke up yesterday morning wondering why I wasn't going. I woke up today knowing I wanted to go and deserved to go, but that a road trip was the only way I could be excited about the journey instead of stressed out about getting there and back. My only concern is physical discomfort from sitting so much in the car. So I practiced moving while driving, stretching out my arms, one arm at a time, dancing in my seat, tilting my pelvis front to back and side to side, all while still paying attention to the road and the other drivers. Just refusing to sit so still and rigid as we often do when driving. And this reminded me of a blog entry I started writing but never posted. Here it is:

I was sitting on a plane, after sitting in an airport, after sitting on a shuttle bus, after sitting on the BART, after sitting in a car, after sitting in class.
I’d say this was about 10 hours of sitting, maybe more. Definitely more, by the time I returned home from Esalen.

So on the plane, after hours of sitting, my body was dying for some movement. My plane had been delayed so I knew I wouldn’t be going out dancing. Originally I was thinking about going out dancing the minute I arrived in Seattle. However, even if the plane had been on time, I probably wouldn’t have gone out; I was so sleep deprived from getting woken up every hour at Esalen by a snoring roommate.

So on that plane, I thought about dancing. I wanted to dance. I listened to music and felt my body start to move, while still seated. I wondered what it would be like to get up and just totally let loose, dancing up and down the aisle of the plane. Would I get in trouble? Or just stared at? I wouldn’t care, either way. It would feel so good.

And then I smiled as I remembered the first time I thought of this. When I was seventeen and on a plane to Israel. At that time, only a year had passed since my car accident, only 8 months had passed since I had taken off my body jacket, and I so I was still very much in the habit of not moving, of being overly protective and self-conscious. I wouldn’t even dance in my seat. But deep within, my body knew, my soul knew, it had to move. It had to dance. So in my mind’s eye, I imagined myself dancing, though I didn’t dare move.

Twelve years later, listening to “On and On” by Missy Elliott, on a plane, dancing in my seat, I was reminded of that time. So happy that now I do move. Finding it interesting that back then some part of me felt just as moved by the music, but some other part of me stopped myself from moving. There are times that I can barely stop myself from moving now. I can barely stand or sit still if I’m tuned in to my body, with or without music.

I no longer care so much about what others might think. I don’t care as much if I’m being watched, what I look like. I just let go, let myself move and be moved.

I do stop myself from standing up to dance on the plane. But maybe someday I won’t. And as I have this thought, this someday I won’t thought, I wonder if today is that someday. So I get up.

I stand up and walk down the aisle, swaying my hips, moving my arms. Not fully dancing. But not just walking. And I go to the bathroom. As soon as I shut the door. I do a little dance, smiling and laughing. Feeling so good. And thinking it’s so funny that I have to do my little dance in the bathroom. And so happy that I have a little dance to do, even if it is in an airplane bathroom.

Before exiting the bathroom, I do another little dance. Really shake it. As much as I can in that cramped space. Again, I crack myself up! Silly girl. Wise woman. All in one.

And when I exit the bathroom, nobody’s waiting for it, so I stand in the back where the flight attendant is pouring drinks. I stretch. I twist. And then I ask her, “Has anyone ever stood up on the plane and just started dancing?”

She doesn’t really look me in the eyes. She seems uncomfortable or caught off guard by my question, and she answers, “No, but people do all kinds of strange things. One time I saw an older lady in the airport doing a full-blown aerobics routine.”

She thinks this is strange.

I think this is wonderful,

And so I say, “That’s great! I think most people are so bound up, standing or sitting still too much. We really need to move more.”

She doesn’t say anything. I go back to listening to my music and walk back to my seat.

And I don’t sit down.

I stand. In front of my seat. I stand.

And then I start to move a little. Still not totally and completely dancing. But sort of dancing. Not just standing. And not really just stretching. Sort of dancing. Still holding back, but not as much as in the past. This is progress. This feels good. This could feel even better, if I weren't holding back at all. But what a long way I've come since that plane ride to Israel when I was seventeen. I think back to that time. I think about where I am now, who I am now. I take a deep breath. I smile. And I sit down, continuing to dance in my seat until we land.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

Clothing is so overrated!

I'm going for a walk out to the marina. It's hot out. I'm hot. I'm wearing linen pants and a tank top. I feel a slight breeze as I walk along the water. I want to feel it more. I want to take off my clothes. And not even because of the sun beating down on me. But because I want to feel free again. And I don't want to hide. I don't want to hide this body of mine. This body that's been through so much. I don't want to hide my scars anymore.
I feel so restrained by this clothing I wear. I've become hyper-aware of the clothing I wear, and I think I'd be happier living somewhere that doesn't make such a big deal about nudity. A place where I could walk around naked if that's what I wanted. And without it being a big deal. Just natural. Free. Accepted. Beautiful. Comfortable. Where is this place? Out of the country? Must I leave the states? Or join a nudist camp? It pisses me off that I can't walk around naked outside of my home unless I'm somewhere designated as "clothing optional." I never thought I'd feel this way. But after a weekend at a clothing optional campsite, I'll just never be the same. And it saddens me that I hesitate even to post this blog, or to tell certain people about my experience and how I feel.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

Surrendering

Today I am smiling.

It's been awhile since I've felt this way.

Actually it hasn't been that long. But it sure felt like it.

The past couple of weeks were a bit rough. But as always, I'm settling in and moving through it. I think I'm finally learning about and truly accepting cycles. Rather than being surprised or disappointed or otherwise upset by bumps in the road and downward spirals, I'm beginning to really trust that it's just part of the fullness of life. And I can handle it. Without even trying. Perhaps it's the trying that gets in the way. Perhaps it's better to just get out of the way. That's something I've been learning over this past year. And sometimes I get out of the way, and sometimes I'm tempted to interfere, to force things. But I'm learning more and more that I can't force anything. And deep down I don't want to. I just want to be. And so I am.

Once again, I surrender.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

vacation lessons?

Yesterday I had an idea about a new line of work, or maybe it’s just an additional service: teaching people how to be on vacation.

My friend Kay is staying with me this week. This woman I barely knew but who quickly became a good friend, had opened up her home to me all FOUR times I went to Austin over the past nine months. So when I told her I was thinking about canceling my trip to Croatia, and she told me she wanted to take a vacation in July, we decided she would come visit me!

I didn’t realize though until the second day she was here what a big deal it was. I didn’t realize that this woman was a stranger to vacationing. She’d traveled for workshops. But getting on a plane and going somewhere like here just for fun, just for vacation, just to be— that was new. And that is huge.

I think I’d be good at teaching people how to be on vacation. How to relax. How to do nothing. And how to just do whatever you feel like doing whenever you feel like doing it. I’m a pro.

Actually, I don’t even have to do much of anything. I just offer the space and my own calm vibe. The allowance. The encouragement. The extreme peace and quiet of this place. The “You can do anything! Or, you don’t have to do anything!” People who aren’t used to this will either learn how much they love it, or it’ll drive them so crazy that they’ll be happy to return to their busy, high-paced, stressful lives. Ha!

So I thought maybe I could invite people to come stay with me and I’d teach them how to vacate. But then I remembered how sensitive I am to other people’s vibes and that I require far too much space of my own for that. At least for now. But maybe, just maybe, maybe some day I won’t require so much space or feel so affected by the constant company of others. Maybe some day. Or maybe not! Maybe it’s just another idea. One of many, so many. So many ideas, and I’m enjoying them all just as they are. Just as ideas.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

thinking of....

written last night....

It happens often. I’ll be thinking about someone, and then they call. And/or I’ll be thinking about something, and then that something’s mentioned. It happens often. But today was off the charts. One after another.

First, I check my email in the morning and see a newsletter from Kert’s sister. With Kay visiting I’ve been thinking of him more than usual, and although his sister is not him, I’ve decided this counts. Mostly it counts though because of what the newsletter referred to. It referred to putting life on “pause.” And just yesterday I sent an email to Laura saying I wish I had a pause button. This newsletter reminded me that I do. I have several.

Second, yesterday I was getting excited to see Daniel. Not my brother. My friend and former tai ji teacher. I was getting excited to see him in March at a qigong teacher training even though I don’t know if we’ll both be there. I was remembering when he visited me at my parents’ house on Mercer Island and how I’ve been encouraging him to come up here to visit Fidalgo Island. And then today on his Facebook status, I see that he is visiting an island. Well, not really an island. A mountain. A mountain that pretends to be an island when it’s cloudy. Island Mountain. That’s where Heartwood is. It’s not here. But still, the whole island thing and him traveling somewhere, well, I decided that this counts.

Third, I take a trip down memory lane by listening to a track on Blake Lewis’s album. I used to help out his drummer, Kevin Sawka with some promotional stuff when he was on my brother’s record label. So I’m thinking about Kevin, who I haven’t seen in months. And then I go to the library, and I have an invite in my inbox to one of his shows. Sure it wasn’t a personal invite; he sent it to everyone. But still, it counts.

Fourth, this morning thinking of Daniel got me thinking about my old Heartwood T.A. and friend Christina. Wondering if she’s back from Alaska. Back in this area. Wondering why I haven’t heard from her since emailing her. And then this afternoon I see that she replied today. This definitely counts.

And finally, this afternoon I was thinking about my old friend Anshu. She’s moved back from New York for the month. She got in on the 4th. I was thinking about how I hadn’t heard from her yet. She hadn’t even replied to my email a couple of weeks ago suggesting we get together this weekend when I’m in Seattle taking Kay to the airport. Then I go to the library to check my email. I make tentative plans and definite plans for after taking Kay to the airport. Then I return home to a message from Anshu. This definitely counts too.

Those first two examples were iffy, but after the ones that followed, I decided they counted. Obviously, or I wouldn’t have written about then.

So what’s next? Who’s next? Is it over? For now?

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

the body remembers

My body remembers all that’s happened to me. Anniversaries are felt deep within, in my bones, in my bowels, and in my skin. In my heart, I feel twinges of pain, echoes of ache, over physical and emotional injuries and over loves lost long ago. My mind is slow to recognize why. When melancholy strikes seemingly out of the blue, my mind doesn’t understand. But my body does. The body remembers what the mind fails to see. And it doesn’t take long for the mind to recognize that the body’s still grieving. Going through all the stages of grief. Year after year. Grieve, rejoice, repeat.


I wrote that the other day. And the synchronicity was eerie. It wasn't just I who was having bodily memories. I found out that same day that a client had returned to the hospital with some complications from a surgery that was a year ago.

The body remembers. How to help it forget? Or not to forget, but to let go, forgive, move on, and grow? Perhaps all that remembering, painful or not, conscious or not, is part of the process. No getting around it. No rushing it. No ignoring it. The only way out is through.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

in a parallel universe

In a parallel universe, I arrived in Croatia today, excited for another Sheng Zhen Qigong teacher training. Excited to leave Hvar a couple of days early, to take a boat from Split to Ancona. A pilgrimage to one of Venus's temples. And then a train to Rome to one of Saturn's temples. And then a plane to Malta to visit my cousin. Taking photographs of myself, the happy woman I've become, to replace photographs of the unhappy teenager I was the last time I was in Malta.

In a parallel universe, I live on Mercer Island. I bought a house there instead of Guemes Island. Instead of Anacortes. I have a large mortgage, but I make more money, so it all evens out. More or less.

In a parallel universe, I finished law school, got a job at a law firm, and hate life.

In a parallel universe, I'm dead and gone.

But in this universe, I'm alive and well. Sometimes I feel a lightness, joy, gratitude over this. But sometimes I feel a heaviness, an extra burden, like I better figure out why I survived my accident, what my purpose is, and better make the most of this 2nd chance at life.

In this universe, I dropped out of law school, went to Heartwood, and started my own healing arts business.

In this universe, I'm living in Anacortes, in a super cute house. I don't worry about a mortgage. Feeling secure. More or less.

In this universe, I'm relieved to be back from California and just staying home, instead of traveling--

And yet there's a part of me that isn't settling in. There's a part of me that's sad, that's mourning some loss. A part of me that's restless and a little nervous about not having any trips planned until October. There's a part of me that's not here and doesn't want to be here. And although that part of me is much smaller, and less often present, than the part of me that is settling in and happy to be here, loving life and living it with arms wide open, that small part of me, when it does speak up, it does so loudly and threatens to take over.

In a parallel universe, this doesn't bother me. And in this universe, I'm learning to accept all these parts of myself, all these universes. And the more I do, the less bothered I am by any of it. The more I just observe. Just notice. The more present I am, the less I judge, and the less I even think about parallel universes.

© 2009 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.  

Friday

Woke up Friday morning with 2 questions: What am I passionate about? What are my dreams? Rolled out of bed, turned on my iPod to listen to the contemplations of Awakening the Soul. Sat in a chair. Practiced Awakening the Soul. Felt the qi moving my arms as I opened my heart.

Walked out of my bedroom with a smile and sense of peace. Put on some red sunglasses and walked a few blocks to Safeway to buy myself some roses.

None of the bouquets had all the colors I wanted, so I walked a few more blocks to The Market. Their roses were dirty, but their blueberries were on sale. I bought some, and as I waited in line to pay, Steve Miller's dance, dance, dance song was playing. This reminded me of high school, when I used to listen to Steve Miller. This also reminded me of the questions I woke up with.

Dance, dance, dance. As a little girl I used to dance all the time. Dreamed of being a dancer. Recently I've been dancing again. More and more.

I walked back to Safeway and bought myself some roses. As I waited in line, I noticed a repetitive chorus that was something like, "Say what you want, say what you want, say what you want." Or maybe it was "say what you say." I don't know. But the message I got was to speak up, to speak out. To communicate. To share my stories. To share my thoughts. And again I thought of the questions I woke up with.

I walked home thinking about dancing and movement and speaking and writing. But instead of dancing or writing when I got home, I took a rose petal bath and then took myself to a movie.

I went to see the movie "Up." My friend said that her dad said it was depressing. Something about an old man letting most of his life pass by before finally going after his life-long dream. I thought I might find it inspirational, like a kick in the butt to get moving before I'm an old lady wishing I had done this or done that.

Hmmmm....As I write that I smile as I realize that there are so many things I have already done! So many adventures and risks and experiences. So many accomplishments. So many lessons. So much growth. Already. So much. I smile again.

So, so what that I haven't written a book yet-- yes, that's it, one of the main things I've always wanted to do. I'll do it. I'm doing it. This summer. It's happening.

Reiki Bear

A few days ago, I’m lying in bed with a teddy bear sitting on my chest. But this is not just any teddy bear. It’s the Reiki-infused teddy bear that my cousin Jonathan sent to me 13 years ago, when I was in the hospital. For the past 10 years, Reiki Bear has lived on a shelf in the closet of my old bedroom in my parents’ house. Last weekend I brought him home with me.

An energyworker I’d been seeing suggested I use a stuffed animal to represent my inner child. Something about giving it all the love and nurturing it needs whenever I’m feeling my needs aren’t being met. Something like that.

She suggested that months ago.

I liked the idea, but what I liked even more was the idea of not needing to use something like a teddy bear.

But the other night, with this teddy bear on my chest, something happened. I felt my heart and my core filling with energy. A low, slow buzz.

Was it from the bear? Was he still infused with Reiki? My hands that were holding him felt a slight buzz, so maybe. OR maybe the teddy bear is a powerful conduit. A powerful tool.

Whatever it was doesn’t really matter. What matters is that whatever it was helped.

I cried and cried and cried, and it felt so good to sob like that, after a recent fairly dry spell. And it felt so good to cradle that bear and talk to it as if I were talking to myself as a child. I woke up the next day feeling surprisingly better. Emotionally cleansed. Soothed. Nurtured. Content.

It’s amazing what heals us, when we believe it can. Or at least when we don’t disbelieve it. When we’re open. Open to the possibility of healing. Regardless of why, what, or how. Just opening up and trusting. Allowing healing to occur in its own way, in its own time. And knowing when to reach out for help. Or a teddy bear. Or both.

I'm more like a heron than like a Jones.

Half way into my morning walk, through my blue 6th chakra sunglasses, I saw a heron out on the water, near the shore. I walked down the steps to the beach. As I did so, the heron caught a fish. I’d never seen a fish in a heron’s mouth before. I took off my glasses to focus in on this sight. And then the heron flew away, fish in mouth.

I felt this was a good sign. A sign that my life is perfect just as it is and to trust that I'm being nourished and will continue to be nourished. No need to make big changes. No need to doubt myself or how well I'm doing or how I'm doing things. No need to try harder to get more; no need to even think that way. And usually I don't think that way, but sometimes I do. Heron medicine's a good reminder though, when going down that slippery slope of comparison, what-if's, and if-only's.

Last year, while living on Guemes Island, was when I first read about Heron medicine. It’s about standing on your own, dabbling and being a bit of a jack of all trades, but also exploring deeply, and not needing to keep up with the Joneses.

Joneses. That’s looks strange. But isn’t that the plural of Jones?

I feel a resonance with the Heron medicine. But sometimes, like when I go to Seattle, I get pulled from my center. That’s what happened yesterday. And so now I just want to hibernate. Like a bear in her cave. Incubate. Like a caterpillar in her cocoon. And so I am.

reunions, memories, and wonderings

Visiting Seattle/Mercer Island is always a trip down memory lane. Sometimes more so than others.Especially when in my old neighborhood, Capitol Hill. Like today.

Today I exited I-5 to take Lakeview drive and drove past the old apartment where Chris and Kyle lived, "the" apartment, the apartment I associate with the time in my life that led me straight into my car accident. I drove by remembering those times. I drove by on the way to get a massage at a place 2 blocks away from where I shared an apartment with a friend after moving back from Sedona, after my divorce.

And then after my massage, I met up with "the good Adam," my "summer fling" from the summer of 2000. I met with him and his wife for lunch. The last time I'd seen them (other than running into Adam in January) was shortly after my wedding to "the Hungarian Adam", which they had been at, and shortly before my divorce. 5 years ago by now? And we go to a restaurant I hadn't been to in years, a Thai place on 15th that my ex-husband and I used to go to. Sounds so strange. Ex-husband. I was married? To him? Yes, I was.

"So what happened?" Iliana asked, referring to the divorce.

Shortly after we separated, she and her Adam had seen my Adam at a Red Robin in the U District with another girl and figured something was up. But they never got the story, until now. And I made it brief, very brief. I've gotten quite good at summing it up, and without an emotional charge. Isn't it great how time heals?

It was good to see this Adam and his wife. I wondered about my 3rd Adam, "the bad Adam" and his wife. I tell the good Adam that the bad Adam had just emailed me a couple of days ago after no contact in quite a while.

"The Adams seem to come in waves," I say.

"You and Adams just don't mix," he says.

"I know! No more Adams for me. That's for sure!"

And then I tell them about an Adam at Heartwood. "When he told me his name I told him that I'd sworn off Adams. And then he changed his name!" He didn't change if for me. But he did change it.

"But deep down he's still an Adam," Adam said.

"Yes, and so I wasn't interested."

It was a good lunch. Good conversations. And they're going to visit me in Anacortes and teach me to ride a bike in August if not sooner.

And after lunch I drive down 12th street, which is Memory Lane central! I drive by the old apartment I lived in when I was the wife of an Adam. Two blocks later, I'm driving by "the bad Adam's" old apartment. What a crazy time that was. Unhappily married and living so close to an-- can't really call him an ex, but he was something; he was really something. Someone influential, in my growth and liberation. Something like a muse, my writing muse, on and off for years.

AND THEN I go to my old boss's birthday party. I haven't seen him and his wife since I was in law school (other than running into them a couple of weeks ago, which is when they invited me over). Their babies can walk and talk. They're not babies anymore. It's so good to see them and to catch up.I remember how much I loved working in that law firm, how I even thought about going back after dropping out of law school. Sometimes I miss the excitement and intellectual stimulation that job provided. Sometimes I want to go back to that world. Sometimes I want to move, even though I do love living in Anacortes right now. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like down here in Seattle or in the surrounding area. Sometimes I wonder.

Facing Fears

In addition to being on a cancellation/lightening-up spree, I seem to be on a fear-facing/conquering spree. Actually, maybe they go together.

It seems to me that sometimes fear is useful for survival, but most fear seems to be useless. Takes away from life, rather than saving life.

And, actually, when it comes to some water/swimming-related fears, not conquering them could be deadly. So I've been going to the swimming pool once or twice a week. Improving my swimming skills. Learning to get more comfortable in the water. Learning how to breathe, how to trust, how to relax into it, how to feel safe in my body, safe in the water.

I've known how to swim for years, but I never jump in, and would hate to fall in or get pushed in out of fear that I'd panic underwater and breathe in water. A few months ago I decided I need to learn to jump in so that I can fall in. And so I can jump in, because it's always looked like so much fun. And so far I've gotten much more comfortable in the water, got the breathing down. But still not ready to jump in.

So last week it was time to work on the eyes. Eventually I want to be able to open my eyes under water. But last week was time to start using goggles. So far I'd just been keeping my eyes closed, or my eyes out of the water.

Well, last week I put on my goggles and was shocked by what I discovered. Previously my alarm-state seemed to kick into gear as soon as I'd HEAR my breathing underwater. Not so much anymore. But last week, when I put on goggles for the first time, I decided to shut my eyes while bobbing down even though I had the goggles on. And when I was under water and opened my eyes, and SAW that I was underwater, I freaked out. Had to come up right away. It reminded me of when I had my pupils dilated, and something about my vagus nerve-- I don't know.

Anyway, soon after I came up for air I calmed down. And then I laughed at myself, as I psychoanalyzed it as that I had just relived some birthing trauma. Not that I was born in water. But still, it made sense to me. Being in the dark (eyes shut), in the water (like amniotic fluid), and then suddenly brightness when I opened my eyes (like being born into a bright hospital room!). Yikes!

Ha!

So I kept at it. Bobbing down with my goggles, eyes open, until I felt totally comfortable with it. It felt so good to face that fear, that deep internal feeling of fear. Not even a mental fear. A bodily one. Overcome. Hooray!

I think I'll be ready to jump in by August. Maybe sooner. And after that? What's on the list?

Learning to ride a bike. I'm not afraid of riding. I'm just afraid of falling, and a little embarrassed that I don't know how to ride a bike! Not for long though.....

That's all for now, other than possibly getting a colonic (scary!) in September. But that's a whole other blog entry! Which reminds me, I never did write that Church of Me one....Well, it looks like I've got a little backlog of blog entries to crank out.

Or not....

:)

Church of Dance

Some people go to church on Sunday mornings.
Some people go to dance on Sunday mornings.
I'm becoming part of that 2nd group of people, viewing my body as a temple and dance/movement as a form of worship.

In Seattle, there's an Ecstatic Dance group that meets every Sunday. I heard about it about 13 months ago. Today I finally checked it out. And it was divine.

I had been a little nervous about going. Would I like it? Would it be too "new agey" or too "hippy-ish?" Would people try to dance with me? For months I didn't go because I was concerned I might not feel right there, but finally I realized I wouldn't know until I tried. As my mom says, "worry is the misuse of imagination." And I am so grateful that I finally went to see for myself what it would be like.

I felt so, so very "right" there. I felt free and safe to let the music move me. I felt a strong sense of connection and community while also feeling completely comfortable dancing by myself on the perimeter of the room, getting deeply in touch with myself, letting go and allowing the music to move me. I also felt moved to tears on several occasions by the freedom of movement, the freedom of being, I experienced. I also got to release some pent up anger during one of the songs that evoked that sort of energy and emotion in me. It was beautiful.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. To Laura for planting the seed so many months ago. To the ecstatic dancers in Seattle for creating the lovely space and adding to my experience. And to myself, for going and for letting go, for the ability to move this body of mine that's been through so much, for all I do, and for all I am-- Maybe I should title this blog entry The Church of Me instead? Or maybe that's another blog entry waiting to be written.....

i'm free, i'm free!

I canceled my internet service today, and it feels so liberating.

When the customer service representative asked me why I was canceling, I said I just need to not have internet, at least for the summer.

"You want to get outside more?" she asked.

Not necessarily. But yes. Sure.

"I just want to get offline," I said, "and I lack the willpower!" we both laughed, "so I need to remove the temptation!" more laughter on both ends.

"Ok, you're disconnected," she said.

"You mean I can't go online anymore?" I asked hopefully and excited.

"That's right," she laughed at me, or with me, again.

"GOOD! Thank you."

And when I got off the phone, I felt so happy, so jazzed up from canceling and from the funny conversation, that my first thought was, "I've gotta post a blog entry on this!"
But I couldn't! Because I didn't have internet anymore. So I went to check out a Salsa Aerobics class down the street instead. And it felt good. It felt good to get out of my house and be around other people while moving my body and not being the teacher. Just having fun. Feeling free, so free, and more connected than before disconnecting from the internet.

And now here I am at the library with my laptop for my limited internet time, and it is great. [sigh of relief]

BLOG!!!!!!!

i smiled when i saw "BLOG!!!!!!" as the subject of an email in my inbox. i smiled more when i read the message:

"(the internet has been so bland lately ;)  "

i took this as a hint, and it came at the perfect time. i've been composing some blog entries in my head over the past couple of days. today was packed full of clients, but my haircut blog finally made its way out through my fingertips. and yesterday, well, i have no excuse for yesterday other than that i've been thinking about canceling my internet service and writing a book with all the free time i imagine i'll have if i don't get sucked into cyberspace on a regular basis from the comfort of my own home!

so, for all i know, this is the last blog entry for awhile, or forever. then again, i might post something again later tonight, or tomorrow, or next week!

we shall see.....

i am not my hair. and...

sometimes the hair's just gotta go.

i am not my hair
i am not this skin
i am the soul that lives within

i returned from austin on monday feeling refreshingly lighter, after a weekend of heavy-heartedness. and in this new lightness of being, i noticed some lingering weight weighing me down. but it wasn't my heart. it was my head. but it wasn't my thoughts (what a shock!); it was my hair.

so just when i'd gotten past the awkward stage of growing it out, it was now time to chop it off. to let go of whatever all that hair was still holding energetically? to lighten up even more? perhaps. or maybe just simply for a change? simply for fun? maybe all of that. maybe more.

i went and did
what i had to do
because it was time to change my life
to become the woman that i am inside

so i made the choice to say goodbye to my long curly locks that i'd been growing out over the past year or two. and somehow it felt so liberating. why? because i am not my hair. or maybe because i am my hair, at least partially. it's a part of me. so?

(whoa, whoa, whoa)
does the way i wear my hair make me a better person?
(whoa, whoa, whoa)
does the way i wear my hair make me a better friend? Oooh
(whoa, whoa, whoa)
does the way i wear my hair determine my integrity?
(whoa, whoa, whoa)
i am expressing my creativity

over the past couple of months i've been listening to india.arie's song "i am not my hair" over and over and over again, along with some of her other great songs, as music therapy. it's funny because i could have used her song as an argument for or against the cut. for example, if i am not my hair, then i don't need to cut it to release that energy it seemed to be holding. and if i am not my hair, then growing it out doesn't mean anything either. and perhaps that's the whole point. it's our minds assigning meaning and imagining all kinds of crap that gets us into trouble. it's not the actual choice or outcome that matters so much; it's making the decision, whatever that decision may be, without over-analyzing. that's what matters.

what matters is listening to your gut, that voice inside, without trying to see the future or analyze the past, without questioning and doubting. just listening. whether it's about something that matters, like how to compassionately detach from a loved one, or something that doesn't matter so much, like getting a haircut. what matters is listening, trusting, and acting accordingly. without all the but-what-ifs. without self-doubt. without an agenda. but instead with presence, clarity, and faith, in that moment.

Bed bugs?!?!

Maybe they're not spider bites.
The number of bites is just too much. I don't think it's something that a spider or two would do.
Maybe I have bed bugs!

Why am I blogging about this?

Enough!

AA

How does a support group for people who are "aware" sound?
My friend called tonight, saying that she feels like she could use one. Sometimes I do too.

recount

so i just took a look at my back in the mirror, and i was wrong about having a dozen new bites.
there are 20, yes 20, 20 bites, just on my back, just from last night. it's ridiculous. and somewhat shocking to see.
:(

all bitten up

It started with 4.
4 spider bites.
For the first time in a year of living here, my first spider bites while sleeping here.
And then there were two more.
AND THEN, today, I wake up with nearly a dozen new bites!
I'm thinking that Mr. Spider must have brought a friend along last night.

Why?
Perhaps because I haven't been very creative lately. Spider medicine is partially about creativity. So I'm thinking these spider bites are to motivate some creativity, or at least to remind me not to ignore my creative urges.

Or maybe those spiders feasted upon me simply because I'm so sweet.

I don't know.

But I do know that I'm itchy. And maybe that's all I need to know; maybe I don't need to analyze it-- Or maybe I do! Maybe it's my nature to analyze, since I'm a Virgo. Or maybe all that Virgo stuff is a bunch of garbage that's just programmed me to believe certain things about myself that don't necessarily need to be true. But maybe it is true. What is truth? Is it anything more than a belief?