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.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, June 1, 2009
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....
:)
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....
:)
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