rebecca.clio.could

no, that isn't a typo. this time it's on purpose. but some time last week, or perhaps two weeks ago now, i accidentally hit the "c" instead of the "g" when signing in to my account. and upon seeing this i smiled. rebecca clio could. i'd never noticed the potential for this before. yes, i liked it, and immediately took it further to "rebecca clio can."

perhaps it was no accident, this typo of mine. perhaps it was a message, a reminder, at just the right time. a time when going back and forth between excitement/inspiration regarding my self-imposed deadline to finish writing a book by the end of the year and some lack of discipline and doubts or confusion about exactly how i was going to pull this off. wondering if i should forget about this self-imposed deadline. just enjoy. just have fun.

but doing what? making myself write? allowing the words to come? or allowing these distractions? and that's when it happened. "rebecca.clio.could rebecca clio can."

and so that's my new motto. a step up from the little engine's "i think i can." i did love that book growing up. but let's cut out the thinking part. let's go straight for the knowing. or even another step further, directly to the am.

i am doing this. i am a writer. i am focused. i am disciplined. i am enjoying the process. i am achieving my goals. i am having fun.

that sounds pretty good to me! but there's still something about "rebecca.clio.could, rebecca clio can" that i like. perhaps because it's sing song-y. or perhaps because it just makes me smile and laugh, and that's relaxing. and when relaxed the words flow. everything flows and just is what it is. no need to question if it all makes sense. no need to make it perfect. at least not yet.

 

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

I Want to Scream

I want to scream
But not just any scream
A blood curdling scream
I want to scream a blood curdling scream
The kind of scream that would make people wonder,
come running, rushing to check on me,
or even call 911
But that's the last thing I want,
to disturb and so then be disturbed,
interrupted
And not wanting that interruption,
not wanting to disturb others resulting in them disturbing me,
interrupting my process,
trying to silence my expression,
or unintentionally doing so without trying,
just simply by their presence--
all of that keeps me from screaming how I want to scream, keeps me from screaming at all.
Yesterday morning I wanted to cry,
and wave my fists in the air
along with a toddler who was crying.
Why can't I throw a tantrum?
Just because I'm bigger than you?
That's what I asked, and that made me laugh. But
really I wanted to cry.

* * *

I'm surprised that that's what I just wrote. I wrote it in the "Notes" of my iPod while lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. And then I got out of bed to post it here. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. There's been a whirlwind of activity and changes lately, all good, but it's a lot. Lots of positive stresses. And yes, sometimes I want to scream. The thing is, what I wrote above isn't just about that. It actually started with bumping my head before getting into bed, and while doing some self-care energy work/craniosacral on it, some thoughts, memories and feelings around the car accident I was in in '96 got stirred up. I basically self-induced a somatoemotional release which lead to some crying and then this urge to scream, but thinking I better not at midnight in my shared housing arrangement, and then those words above started coming. It amazes me how after all these years, stuff just keeps coming up around the car accident. Less and less over the years for sure. But I wonder tonight, will it ever end? Or is it just the gift that keeps on giving? And I mean that sincerely, when I use the word "gift." Perhaps more on that, another time....

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Blame it on Mercury Retrograde

Yeah, that works for me.

And since it's not quite over yet, I can't really write much more than that even though in my head I thought I had plenty more to write. So thanks a lot, Mercury. Thanks for making it so difficult to communicate lately. And thanks for being such an awesome scapegoat! You rock.

 

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Did I Forget to Wear Pants Again?

I'm not so sure I've ever told anyone this. I have a vague memory of mentioning it to someone once, but I don't know....

For the past few years, I've often found myself in these situations where I leave home to go somewhere and within about less than 20 seconds of getting out of my car and walking away from it, I very suddenly have to look down to make sure I'm wearing pants.

It's weird, because it's not even like I've been at home pant-less right before going out. At least not usually. So I don't really know what this is all about. Is it like one of those dreams where you're in school and suddenly realize that you're naked? Maybe. But this is not a dream, and I'm actually not naked or half-naked. I have never looked down to discover that I have indeed forgotten to wear pants. I have gone out intentionally without pants, but that's a whole other story, one I should get back to working on in one of those books in progress....

So all I'll say more about this for now is that tonight it seemed to come from the fact that I'd just spent all day today and yesterday sitting cross-legged on the floor, and so tonight walking around in the grocery store brought some extra attention to my legs, as they felt somewhat foreign in this upright position doing this thing called "walking." The truth is, this looking down to make sure I'm wearing pants thing hasn't even happened much recently, but it used to happen pretty often, and I had a few theories about it.

One was that I really would prefer to be pantless. I'd prefer to be living at a nudist camp-- no, actually I'd prefer that there was no need to go somewhere "special" but rather that everywhere was "clothing optional." Perhaps with some rules to help with public health concerns. I know it would be a distraction at first, but if you've never been somewhere clothing optional for a good amount of time (and the locker room doesn't really count), you'd be amazed by how quickly you get over it and get used to it.

Another theory was that I was spending so much time alone at home, just lounging around in comfy clothes, or no clothes at all, that even though of course I got dressed before going out, it would take me a while to realize that I had clothes on? Or maybe because of feeling so disconnected from my legs; that would explain why it doesn't happen as much now; I'm more connected. I don't know though. It's hard to explain....

The third thing that came up for me around this was that sometimes I'd look down only after somebody else looked at me, as if it were out of self-consciousness. Somebody would look at me, and I'd think, "oh crap, did I forget to wear pants?!" Then I'd look down, see my pants, and laugh at myself. And then that would make people look at me even more. But by then I knew I was wearing pants, so it didn't matter; I knew they were looking at me because who goes around just laughing out loud unless they're with somebody or on the phone? Just that crazy girl who has lost her sense of whether or not she's wearing pants.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Losing Faith, Hope, Love

 

I thought I'd lost this ring I'd been wearing nearly every day for 3 1/2 months. I bought it in Surrey, British Columbia during a Sheng Zhen Gong teacher training in July. The combination of the words and the way the ring felt on my right index finger was just perfect. Comforting. And great reminders.

Seeing these words each day was like a meditation, or affirmation of faith, hope, and love. And it sure seemed to be working some magic, by helping me have faith, remain hopeful, to give and receive love freely, and also to make love-based rather than fear-based choices. It generally just had a really good affect.

And when I traveled from Austin to Seattle at the beginning of November, I didn't have this ring with me, and even thought I may have lost it. I still felt like I was wearing it though. I could feel it physically even though it wasn't there. And I could feel its messages, its power, even though the ring was nowhere to be found. I had a couple of other rings with me, but couldn't put them on that same finger; it was already occupied by this phantom ring. And that was fine with me.

It did occur to me that I might find the ring upon returning to Austin, but I had this feeling like I'd left it on a bathroom counter-top at the Acupuncture school. Or maybe it was in one of my bags or a pocket. So I searched for it a bit when I returned to Austin, but didn't find it.

A few days passed, and just yesterday I was thinking about writing this blog entry about "losing faith, hope, and love." I was noticing that although I really loved that ring, I wasn't terribly bummed out about losing it. It seemed to have done the trick, ingraining those words into my consciousness, into my being. Maybe I lost the faith, hope and/or love a few times during those days without the ring, but not any more so than what could happen with it.

I was even feeling good about the possibility that someone may have found it somewhere, someone who needed it just as much as I had needed it right when it came into my life. I kind of liked the thought of this ring getting lost by the next person only to be found again by somebody else. 

I was having these thoughts as I walked back up to my room after a shower. And as soon as I finished getting dressed, I headed back towards the stairs, but first I grabbed my long-sleeved zip-up Sheng Zhen shirt with pockets. It was a chilly morning. And that's where I found it. My ring was in one of those pockets. Just waiting for me to come home, giving me some time on my own to realize I don't need it. And how beautiful that it returned to me just as soon as I was happy about the thought of it being with someone else, thinking about how good it would be for that other person. The meaning-maker in me really likes how the timing all worked out on this one. 

And I love it that I found this Faith, Hope, Love ring for the first time during a Sheng Zhen training, and for the second time in a Sheng Zhen pocket; Sheng Zhen Gong certainly has brought more faith, hope, and love into my life, both through the movements and the contemplations. 

So as I sit here typing this, I'm happy to look down periodically to see this ring shining back at me. But I know in my heart that I don't need this ring, or anything else really. I know what's most important. And although these external reminders are nice and can be helpful, they're not necessary. Turning inward in times that I forget, or lose these qualities, is all I need. Today in Master Li's Heaven Earth Gong workshop he explained one of the movements that involves imagining that you're looking at the moon, asking it your questions. He said that when you ask the moon, you're really asking your heart. And the answers will always come. 

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Who Doesn't Love a Good Pat-Down?

I love airports and could write a lot about why. And maybe I will some other time. But right now I just want to share that I especially have come to enjoy going through security.

I always opt out of walking through those bigger n' badder x-ray scanners that many airports have now. Why on earth would I walk through them if kids aren't supposed to? And why on earth would I choose more radiation over getting a pat-down?!

I do recognize that there are TSA workers out there abusing their power, and there are people out there who have experienced molestation at the airport and/or in their past. So I do understand that not everybody is going to love a pat-down; it could be scary or cause discomfort or even actually end up violating you. But fortunately I have no reason to be uncomfortable with them and have never had any issues with those assigned to pat me down.

In fact, I like pat-downs.

I get to hold my arms out as if practicing qigong, specifically Sheng Zhen Gong's Love Descends on Me, while receiving what feels like a super fast and short body/energywork session. The touch has never felt invasive or inappropriate or negative in any way.

I even realized a few pat-downs ago that it felt sort of like being smudged! At least that's how I've been choosing to experience it, as a clearing, as a blessing even, for the journey ahead of me.

And why not? We might as well make the most of it. We might as well enjoy and have fun at the airport and other places, and in other situations, that are usually perceived as stressful.

You have a choice. It's up to you. Use the power of your mind, the power of belief. Use your imagination. Choose humor. Choose contentment. Let go of worries. Relax and play. Choose acceptance. Choose gratitude.
Choose how you want to walk through this life. And then walk through the airport that way. Learn to love the pat-down. Life's just much more enjoyable that way.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Are You Ready for the Mogwai?

You do with Mogwai what your society has done with all of nature's gifts!  You do not understand.  You are not ready.  Perhaps someday, you may be ready.  Until then, Mogwai will be waiting.

-- Mr. Wing, "Gremlins"

My brother emailed me that quote in response to this email I sent about a dream I had: "A cow was walking up to a mogwai. The gremlins were in the forest. The cows were confused. I think it was another planet. Aliens or horses, or both, were observing this. And there was narration about these mogwai turning into gremlins."

I wish I could remember what the narration said. I'd forgotten about this dream until recently. I dreamed it more than three years ago, and find myself wondering what it meant or if it meant nothing at all. Before hearing back from my brother, I wondered if the confused cow represented me. And the mogwai represented the guy I'd been considering getting involved with that summer. And the gremlins in the forest were my demons and fears. Or maybe I was the mogwai, and the cows represented all the people out there in the world who I thought wouldn't understand, or would be confused, by the choices I was considering making, or already had made. But what about the horses and aliens? They were the observers. And that's really where I felt my own presence in this dream, as an observer. Maybe each "character" represented some part of me. Or maybe it wasn't about me at all.

And when I read that quote from my brother, I smiled.  I could be the mogwai offering some gift that others were not ready to receive. I could be the cow, confused and not ready for the gifts of the mogwai. I could be the observer. At different times. Or all at once. I liked what that quote was saying and asking. And now I like that it's making me think less about my dream and more about nature's gifts, and the gifts that we have to share with each other, and how sometimes we just don't understand and are not ready to receive. Sometimes others aren't ready to receive us.

If I have a gift to share, whether it's something I'm teaching or writing or just simply by being, but you aren't ready to receive it, then you might appear to be like a confused cow. I don't mean that to be rude. But it's true. And I know I can be the cow too. A little curious, but not so interested. Or seemingly ready to receive, but just can't see clearly, just not quite understanding.  But the more I  come to realize that gifts are all around us, the more I consciously seek out the gifts in any and all situations, from any and all people, and from nature, the easier it gets to recognize and receive and understand those gifts. 

And the more I treat others, and nature, with love, respect, and gratitude, the more likely they are to remain cute and cuddly, just like the mogwai, rather than turning into those scary destructive gremlins. ;) So if not being treated that way by others, we need to handle ourselves with extra care to keep our own little gremlins in check. Then again, there's plenty to be learned from those gremlins, from our shadows. So when they do emerge, feel what needs to be felt. Heal what needs to be healed. Sometimes a gremlin is a blessing in disguise; sometimes the gremlin is the gift. 

Whether mogwai or gremlin, are you ready to receive?

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Thoughts on a Plane

As the plane takes off I look out my window. Here we go, I think, another chance to die.  I'm a little surprised by part 2 of that thought, not so much the use of the word "die"- I'd recently posted the "The Night I Almost Died" blog--  but the use of the word "chance."

Because I wasn't feeling fear when I had that thought, it almost came across as a good thing. Not exactly like "Oh, yippy! Here's a chance to die!" But maybe just neutral. No concern. Just an observation. And I decided to follow that train of thought, curious where it might lead, and here's where it went:

Yes, every time I fly is just another chance to die. I have no control. This plane could explode or crash. Of course it could. Isn't it crazy how we fly through the air in these big machines? Putting our lives in the hands of the pilots? Relinquishing control. And yet it's more likely to die when in control, when behind the steering wheel of one's own car.

And are we ever really in control? Accidents happen. But is there really even such a thing as an accident? Some people say there are no accidents. Each choice every person makes, no matter how seemingly unrelated, leads them to that moment, that location, that situtuation in which the so-called accident happens. Is it all meant to be? Pre-destined? A combination of destiny and choices? Or is it all totally arbitrary? 

I'd rather believe there's some meaning. Not a pre-determined set-in-stone plan with specifics, but perhaps certain things in life our souls must experience. Certain essences, and our choices create the forms through which we experience and embody those essences and learn those lessons and fulfill our contracts and purposes for this lifetime. If you believe in that sort of thing.... and I've decided I do. Life is much more meaningful and interesting that way.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

My Shortest Blog Post Ever

I wish I were on the East Coast, because then I could go to bed.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

The Night I Almost Died

Four years ago I stumbled upon the following piece of writing, and made a note that I had no memory of writing it 8 years prior but preferred it in that moment, to the longer versions of the story I'd been writing on and off for years....

As I stumble upon it today, while working on one of my books, I would say that I don't prefer it, but there's something powerful, haunting even, about it being so condensed and written as if poetry. I wish I could remember writing it-- did it just flow (as it sounds like it did), or was I trying to craft it this way? I don't remember, but I have a feeling it just flowed, at least parts of it.

I'm not sure if it has a place in my book, so for now I'm sharing it here:

1/14/00

I can’teven keep track of how many times I’ve been to the hospital in the past 4 years. Surgeries, follow-up appointments, diagnostic tests, and emergency room--

February 20, 1996, my mom wakes me from sleep at midnight, knocking on my door to tellme I have a phone call. Somebody calling about work, she says. But I know better, and I crawl to the end of my bed to pick up the phone, and it’s who I thought it was. A few representatives from the class of ‘95 calling to invite me over to watch “The Usual Suspects.” But in my half-asleep daze, I say I’m too tired to drive, and they say, no problem, we’re on our way. 

i look out my window as we fly down the road

it’s all a blur, my stomach churns, my head throbs

i yell at him to slow down

i repeatedly yell at him to slow down

i plead

he laughs

the music pounds in my ears

my heart pounds as thoughts of jumping go through my head

i look over the front seat at the speedometer

i would die jumping out of that speeding car

i cannot jump

what do I do?

there is nothing i can do

i can yell

i yell

curve after curve

we barely stay on the road

the car skids to the left, to the right,

back to the left and off the road

crashing into a tree at 60 miles per hour

bones breaking

branches breaking

muffled moaning and groaning

i see myself

doubling over my lap belt like the tree doubling over the car

i must hold on

waiting for help to arrive

paralyzed

unable to move my legs

starting to slip away

help arrives

they tell me to hold on

i am holding on

i can no longer hold on

they pull me out slowly

they lay me down on the ground

i hear the faint crinkling of leaves in my hair

i feel distant

golden beams of light shining down on me

i see the darkness of night as i look up through the trees

soon i hear them talking about me

as if i am no longer there

soon i am gone

in an ambulance

flat on my back

i open my eyes to see

a man wearing blue looking down at me

i ask him for my life

he gives me a blanket

i ask him to hold my hand

he holds my hand and tells me to hold on

i thank him

i thank him repeatedly

fade to black

awaken to light

as they roll me in

the lights seem to be flickering

my eyes must be fluttering

bright lights blind me

eyes shut

clothes rip

eyes open

poking and prodding

i squirm as they prepare me

hooking me up to monitors and tubes

i look up to see men and women in blue

they wheel me towards the operating room

my hearing fades

will I be awake?

i see lips moving

i hear no reply

it’s all over

the drugs must be working

fade to white

it’s all just begun

 

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

UFO Gathering

When I arrived in Austin, I signed in to Meetup.com and joined some groups. One was Austin's Center for Spiritual Living. I was headed towards membership in Seattle and was hoping to enjoy Austin's center just as much. When I looked over what types of "meetups" were listed, I noticed a "UFO Gathering Support Group."

Hmmmmm, strange.

I was stumped. And a little turned off. I certainly believe in UFO's; I saw one once. But why would anyone need a support group for that? The only support I would need might be to feel no hesitation to admit it without fear of people thinking I'm crazy or trying to convince me that it was just some sort of atmospheric phenomenon-- oh, look, I just admitted it without hesitation! No support group needed, thank you.

Now, an alien abduction support group I'd understand; it would still be strange to see something like that offered at CSL, but it would make more sense to me than a UFO support group. And what was meant by "UFO Gathering?"

Despite my curiosity, I did not read the description for more information. Instead I just looked over the other meetup titles and dates and realized that between Sheng Zhen classes and Ecstatic Dances, I have schedule conflicts for all of them.
A few weeks have passed since then, and I just received an email reminder for the UFO meetup. This time I notice something that definitely was not there before.

It says: "UFO Gathering (UnFinishedObjects) Support Group"

Aha! Austin is not as weird as I thought. It's a "support group" for unfinished arts and crafts projects! Ha! I still won't be attending, but seeing this made me smile and laugh at myself for the assumptions I made.

Maybe next time I'll get more information before jumping to any conclusions. Then again, the whole thing was pretty funny, sort of like with the tricyclist I saw the other day. So maybe in some situations my assumptions serve a higher purpose: amusement.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Rebecca vs. Becky (aka My Nickname Identity Crisis)

A couple of weeks ago, I met the daughter of one of my yoga teachers. She was only about 5, and her mom asked her, "Can you say Rebecca?" I said that she could call me Becky instead.

"Oh, do you go by Becky?" my teacher asked.

"Well, it depends. I don't usually introduce myself as Becky, now that I'm an 'adult,' but I usually think of myself as Becky. It's actually a bit of an issue for me sometimes. Who am I? Rebecca or Becky?"

"Well if you think of yourself as Becky, then that's your truth."

"Yeah, but I'm Rebecca too. And it doesn't really feel right introducing myself as Becky."

And since then she's been calling me Becky. But it doesn't sound right. Or feel right. And it took a couple of times before realizing why, and it's something I had never considered before. For me, "Becky" is not just a name or a nickname; it's a term of endearment.

"Beck" is just a nickname. Beck, Becks, Becca. Those are nicknames. I suppose they can, and sometimes are, like terms of endearment as well. But for me, Becky is something else; it's more intimate; I'm more sensitive to who uses it with me.

So it just doesn't sound right when certain people say it, even sometimes with people who are close to me but have always known me as Rebecca, but especially when a stranger or acquaintance says it. Then again, I suppose I have met some "strangers" and have some acquaintances who can get away with it. Oh, and this would make a whole other great writing topic: what's the difference between a friend and acquaintance? But back to this one....

There are some people, whether close or not, who could get away with calling me pretty much anything because of their tone of voice and loving energy (not that this yoga teacher isn't sweet and loving). For example, I used to hate being called Becca,  so much so that I'd tell people right off the bat when introducing myself. But over the past few years, a few of the sweetest souls I know have called me Becca, and it felt fine; it even helped me soften to the possibility of that nickname being used by others. But still, it's not my favorite.

My favorite actually isn't even Becky. It's Beckita! Because my mom calls me that sometimes. But I'm pretty sure it wouldn't sound right coming from anyone else, and not so sure I wanna find out. But maybe. If it's said just right....

As for Becky though, when people who are close to me but know me as Rebecca start trying to call me Becky, it doesn't necessarily sound right regardless of how well they know me or how dearly they love me.

My former housemate Kerry actually could have gotten away with calling me Becky. We discussed implementing this change. But one morning he greeted me in the kitchen and started out with "Rebec--" and then remembered the plan and finished with the "--ky." And that's how "Rebecky" was born! Now that is defintely not a name I'd ever use to introduce myself. But even just the thought of it makes me smile. Maybe because it's so silly, or maybe because of how it was created or the way Kerry says it.

So what am I even getting at here? I don't know. The main point was my revelation about "Becky" feeling and sounding like a term of endearment to me, not just an ordinary nickname.  Then again, "Rebecca" can be just as sweet. It so totally seems to depend on who is saying it! It's weird.

And I could go on about the different meanings and energies of each name, and actually that would be more fitting with the title of this blog since that's more about "identity" and Rebecca vs. Becky, while this is more of a vague exploration that just skims the surface, but now that I'm getting my writing brain warmed up, it's time to work on my books!

I do see a sequel to "Rebecca vs. Becky (aka My Nickname Identity Crisis)" or a "What's in a Name" blog entry in the not too distant future. I actually have quite a lot to say about my middle name: Clio. The Greek muse of history. The record keeper. The proclaimer. The writer. Yes, how appropriate for me. And it's time to put her to work.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Music on a Plane

**I wrote this on my way to the Bahamas in August and forgot to post it. Those dolphins! I suppose this didn't seem so important compared to everything that happened once I got there. But here it is.**

I can’t even count the number of times I’ve listened to the song “Let it Fall Apart” by Helio Sequence while on a plane. Come to think of it, I seem to have a bit of a travel soundtrack. Not in the form of a playlist though. Just some songs that I almost always end up individually selecting when I’m up in the air. And “Let it Fall Apart” is often the first, especially if I’ve just said goodbye to someone or something or someplace, and especially if that goodbye is tugging at my heart even just a bit. And when I pack up and leave whatever city I’m in, when is that not the case?

This song was on my iPod when I bought it off of a friend, in addition to thousands of songs by artists I had never even heard of. I deleted a lot of his stuff, but this one was a keeper. Although it wasn’t really the “type” of music I was into listening to anymore, this song grabbed me. The music itself. The words on their own. And the combination was music to my ears, for lack of better pun.

Call off all of your plans, push back all of your worries, everything can wait just as long as it has to, and it will. You can just let go. And let it rest awhile. It all moves into place. Shake off all of your tension. Give up all of your heartache….Let it fall apart. And come together again. And then it’s not the same….Think back to remember why. How you became so afraid of life. There must be a reason why. You don’t even know. You’re only rising to fall again. You’re lost to be found again. It only ends to begin again. Let it fall apart. And come together again. And then it’s not the same..

Interesting to see now that the line about being afraid of life no longer rings true. But at a time it did. It was around the same time I first heard this song, some time in 2008 or 2009, that I started becoming really aware of my fears, striving towards facing them, releasing them, and living from a place of courage and love. The falling to rise again, ending to begin again, and the constant need to let go, those still ring true.

And then it’s on to the next song. “Cruisin,” the duet re-done by Huey Lewis and Gwyneth Paltrow. I actually like it better than the original, which is a rare thing. This is more often a driving song,but it works on the plane too. A sweet song about music, love, and traveling through life, not just on the road, with someone special. It just always makes me think about how great it is to be on the road (or any type of journey) with someone you really dig and resonate with, whether a lover or a friend or a family member or even a stranger who seems oh so familiar. Or maybe it's just yourself; I do love traveling with myself (thankfully! ;)). It’s like it doesn’t even matter where you’re going or how long it takes, because you’re in it together and enjoying every minute of it. Or at least most of it!

And then my music taste takes a very different, and odd turn to “Drop” by the Ying Yang Twins. Yes, it’s true. And a little embarrassing. Especially considering that I recently asked a new friend in my life to watch his mouth around me! But the thing is, the music really moves me, so I just tune out the crassness. This song literally moves my body so much that I can barely stay in my seat. I must’ve been a Crunk dancer in a past life. Seriously. Am I too old to learn how to dance like that? My body sure yearns for it.

And as I’m bouncing around in my seat, I start laughing not only at myself but also as I imagine what it would be like to travel with my friend Anna. I start laughing out loud even as I write that. If we traveled together, especially with a headphone splitter, wow — watch out world for the dancing queens. "Dancing Queens on a Plane." I see a parody in themaking…

And then "Salt Shaker" comes on, which is not usually part of my travel soundtrack, but I was too busy laughing to start selecting the next song. And then I laugh more as I remember that movie with Sandra Bullock dancing to some other Ying Yang Twins song. I was never a fan of hers, til I saw that. Took balls to make such an ass out of herself. And see?! This is what happens when I listen to music with such a low vibration; I'm workin' up to swearin' like a sailor.

Honestly though, sometimes I wish this type of music was played at Ecstatic Dance, but an instrumental version of course. The beat, the rhythm, is super fun, and moves my body so naturally. I just can't deny it; some of the crassest songs fill me with so much joy!

All that being said, I have noticed that when I’m on the plane ride back from something like a Sheng Zhen training, most of this music doesn’t resonate with me. I still remember the first time I discovered this. After my first Teacher Training in July 2008. I got back from 10 days of heart-opening, got in my car,turned it on, and Ice Cube’s “Back that Ass Up” was blasting on my speakers.Must’ve been enjoying it when I had parked my car, but I returned changed. At least temporarily. I think I got rid of that CD, but still enjoy it on the radio occasionally. Funny how sometimes I feel so sensitive and have such an aversion to something that other times is just fun and enjoyable. What’s that all about?

Surely there are other songs in my flight soundtrack, quite a few more, but the ones above are what I just listened to and what inspired me to write this. And that is that. For now.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Thank You, Moon

Tonight as I was driving home, the almost-full moon caught my eyes in a way it never has. Or at least I can't remember the last time I looked at it with such awe and wonder. Like a child.

The moon itself was so big and glowing that of course it caught my eyes, but what created such awe and wonder in me? As I stared up at it, I was reminded of just how big the universe is, just how much is out there that we cannot see. I found myself thinking that I've been taking the moon for granted.

And then I found myself wondering what it would be like if instead of the moon we saw another earth, or some other planet, up in the sky. That awe and wonder would always be there upon seeing it, right? Or would we learn to take that for granted as well?

I don't want to take the moon for granted anymore. I want to marvel at the magic that it reminds me of in terms of all the unknown in this universe we live in. The mystery. And the vastness. It puts things in perspective. And I love that feeling of smallness it creates in me; it excites me, and I feel relieved, which helps me relax and merge into the oneness, where I can flow naturally and in a sense actually be the biggest, and best, me I can be.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Moody

When I was a little girl, probably around 7 years old, one of my friend's parents said I was moody. And she said it in a way so as to shame me or criticize me or alert my mother to something being wrong with me. Of course my mom didn't think there was anything wrong with me. My mom's awesome! She thought there was something wrong with my friend's mom for saying it. But at the time I didn't get that. Instead I internalized this criticism, this shaming around moodiness and changing my mind, and I suppose even around listening to my gut.

This woman said I was moody because I had gone from having a great time playing with her daughter, and even planning to spend the night, to suddenly wanting to go home. What she didn't know was that I wanted to go home because I felt uncomfortable with the way her daughter and son were playing doctor.

Instead of telling her why I wanted to go home, I probably just said I didn't feel well or "just because." Who knows what I said? What is a little girl supposed to say at that age when something seems off and makes her uncomfortable? Does she even have the words? I often said I didn't feel good, or that I felt sick, all throughout childhood, to get myself out of situations where I felt anxiety or other uncomfortable emotions. In a sense it was true; my stomach didn't feel right. My gut was telling me something.

Now, could I have said "I want to go home now because I got a strange vibe from your kids?" I don't think so, because I don't even think I fully understood it until much later. It was just a feeling. And honestly, nothing blatantly "wrong" happened; it was just a vibe. I'm sensitive. And perceptive. And always have been.

Unfortunately, people like this lady have said things to raise self-doubt, and even to think there's something wrong with changing my mind, listening to my gut, or being moody.

Being moody.

What does that even mean?

Moody means having unpredictable changes of mood, especially sudden bouts of gloominess. Well, yes, that happens, except for now I have sudden bouts of cheerfulness more often than gloominess. Thankfully. But I think what moodiness comes down to is emotional fluctuations. And unpredictable ones. So what? Why is that such a bad thing?

The word "moody" has such a negative connotation, doesn't it? It implies instability. And that's scary to most people. Maybe I'm one of those people.

So I don't know if it's a label I want, regardless of how I define or re-define the word. I really just think of my self as a stable but fluid, sensitive being. I know what's up. I'm quite grounded in my "moodiness," if that's what we're gonna call it. I'm pretty good at being my own observer and witness. In fact, if anything, I'm starting to think I'm not moody enough! I still suppress some of my feelings, emotions, moods, usually without realizing it, but sometimes intentionally. Probably at least partially because I don't want to be perceived as moody, no thanks to that lady and who knows what other situations influenced me at a young age or even later on.

But come to think of it, I'd rather be perceived as moody than be untrue to my feelings. Of course I'd still like to be perceived as stable, but have this fear that if I'm as transparent as I'd actually like to be, nobody will be able to handle it. "You can't handle the truth!" I hear Jack Nicholson saying as I write that. And it's true. Most people can't. But, again, so what? I've always thought of myself as blatantly honest, and I certainly am compared to others, but apparently I'm not to my fullest, deepest, truest capacity. And now is the time to be.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

The Smoking Obese Tricyclist

As I approached a red light, I noticed a very large woman waiting to cross the street. She was riding a tricycle. And it wasn't motorized. I'd never seen anyone her size riding a bike, or rather a trike. A truck pulled up beside me, blocking her from my vision. And just as I was thinking, "that's so cool; good for her making a healthy lifestyle change," she rode right past me and I saw that she was smoking a cigarette.

I had to laugh. It was the oddest sight, full of contradictions. I started to wonder if she wasn't trying to lose weight by riding a trike but maybe she was just broke and couldn't afford a car or gas. Or maybe she was an environmentalist! A smoking one.

Or maybe she was trying to lose weight and smoking helps her eat less. Maybe she even just started smoking to help curb her appetite.

Who knows? And it doesn't matter. It was just a funny sight. And it was funny to observe in myself the tendency to make assumptions based on appearances and the tendency to create stories to make sense of things. I was laughing at what I saw as well as at myself the rest of the way home.

It also made me think that writing fictional short stories based on some of the characters I've been meeting, or just seeing, lately could be fun. Might as well put that imagination and story-telling tendency to use! But only if I've already completed my other writing goals for the day, or need a little writing warm up. So thank you, smoking tricycling lady, for the laugh and the inspiration. You also inspired me to go for a walk when I got home, since I don't have a trike. I'm sure you inspired some others as well.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Why Am I So Happy that a Bird Pooped on Me?

Yes, that's right, folks. I'm still amused and feeling super good about being shit on by a bird yesterday. I washed it off, but can still feel its warmth, like a comforting hand. Sounds strange, and gross, I know. But it's true.

Here's the deal: I was walking through the parking lot of Central Market's West Gate location, in awe of all the grackles. Masses of them. Everywhere. And so loud I couldn't even sit outside to talk on the phone. As I walked to my car, I thought a little bit about how I should probably avoid walking under the trees that they were all perched in. I made it to my car safely, but then I thought I'd dropped something on my way. So I got out of my car to look for it, retracing some of my steps. No luck. Unless what happened next was lucky! And I choose to believe it was.

Just as I was almost back at my car, safe inside, "SPLAT!" All over my right upper arm. My eyes widened as I stared down in amazement. Time stood still for a moment, before I burst out in laughter. And then I had to get it off of me; it was starting to drip! The store was too far away though, so I walked a few feet to my car, looked inside. No napkins or tissues or towels. But there was a receipt, a long one luckily, so I used that to wipe it off. I didn't want to risk getting shit on again, so instead of walking back to the store's bathroom to wash off, I drove back to AOMA, the acupuncture school where I'd been all day and was about to take one last qigong class before going home for the night.

This is a grackle.

So, why was this such a great thing? Because of the timing. I was thinking about this beautiful, but currently unavailable, man who came into my life this summer, this new friend with whom I resonate so deeply. And just as I was asking what the future may hold, if anything at all, that's when it happened. So no matter how I interpret this, it makes me smile. And there are multiple options for my meaning-making pleasure:

1) Luck is in your future! (Because bird poop is lucky, right? ;))

2) Forget about the future; you're just lucky he's in your life now.

3) Your future is full of shit! Just a bunch of crap.

4) Forget about the future; this unavailability thing, in the here and now, it sucks.

5) Snap out of it and stop questioning!

It hasn't even been 24 hours yet, but I have a feeling that this actually is going to

help me stop questioning and instead accept and enjoy the here and now. It kind of reminds me of when my friend Mungasulwa said, "There is no thought worth thinking about." It short circuits my brain and makes me laugh instead of question. It brings a sense of peace. Letting go. Just being present and enjoying the moment. I know it sounds strange, but I think that's sort of what this sensory memory of the bird shit is going to be like for me. And it can apply to all sorts of needless thoughts and questioning, not just regarding my love life. So thank you, bird, wherever you are! Thank you, Divine Timing and Divine Right Action! ;) Life is good.

Other than that I can't get this Kate Nash song out of my head! At least it's not one of her super negative and/or codependent love songs. I actually like this one; it's sweet. And you can listen to it by clicking on the title....

                          Birds

http://youtu.be/P_cdLbKf9j8

She was waiting at the station
He was getting off the train
He didn't have a ticket
So he had to bum through the barriers again

Well the ticket inspector saw him rushing through
He said "girl you don't know how much I missed you but
We'd better run 'cause I haven't got the funds to pay this fine."
She said "fine"

Well so they ran out of the station and jumped onto a bus
With two of yesterdays travel cards and two bottles of bud
And he said "you look well nice"

Well she was wearing a skirt
And he thought she looked nice
And yes, she didn't really care about anything else
'Cause she only wanted him to think that she looked nice
And he did

But he was looking at her, yeah all funny in the eye
She said "come on boy tell me what you're thinking
Now don't be shy."
He said alright, "I'll try

All the stars up in the sky
And the leaves in the trees
All the broken bits that make you jump up
And grassy bits in between
All the matter in the world is how much I like you."

She said "what?"
He said "let me try and explain again

"Right, birds can fly so high
And they can shit on your head
And they can almost fly into your eye
And make you feel so scared.
But when you look at them
And you see that they're beautiful
That's how I feel about you

Right birds can fly so high
And they can shit on your head,
And they can almost fly into your eye
And make you feel well scared
But when you look at them
And you see that they're beautiful
That's how I feel about you
Yeah that's how I feel about you."

She said "what?"
He said "you"
She said "what are you talking about?"
He said "you"

Right birds can fly so high
And they can shit on your head
And they can almost fly into your eye
And make you feel so scared.
But when you look at them
And you see that they're beautiful
That's how I feel about you

Right birds can fly so high
And they can shit on your head
And they can almost fly into your eye
And make you feel well scared.
But when you look at them
And you see that they're beautiful
That's how I feel about you
Right, that's how I feel about you

She said "thanks, I like you too"
He said "cool"

-Kate Nash

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Why I Wanted to Punch this Massage Therapist

I really wanted to punch this massage therapist the other day. Seriously. Several times over the period of 90 minutes this thought went through my head. As I searched for the words to express to her what I wanted her to do differently, I'd picture myself just punching her instead and feel a little better, but also feel a bit baffled by this strong urge and imagery. I'm not a violent person! What was going on?! I believe in using words, not fists. Unless of course it's necessary to defend your life. So I suppose that's where this urge came from. A protective mechanism. But still, why wasn't my love and light and compassion making an appearance here, speaking up here? Both for her sake and for my own?

As I was lying on the massage table, belly down, I did speak up from time to time, asking her to back off. And from time to time she listened. But I'm still feeling beat up by her three days later. Her over-zealousness. Her cold and clinical touch. Her lack of sensitivity and presence. Yuck. Why didn't I just end the session and walk out? Curiosity perhaps. I should know better though. Not only because I'm a massage therapist, but because I've done this before. I've endured awful massages without giving enough feedback or just simply ending the session. Well, sometimes I find myself wondering, when I can tell that the therapist technically knows what he or she is doing, if the pain will be worth it.

Then again, I am a firm believer in that the body will tense up and resist healing if approached too aggressively. And this woman even had the nerve to say something about "attacking" my glutes. I wanted to end it there, or to educate her a bit on language. I wanted to tell her that the body is not something to be attacked. But I didn't. And I'm actually thinking about sending her a little note now. Using the word "attack" in reference to doing bodywork and having that mentality with anyone is inappropriate in my opinion, but especially so with someone whose body has been through all sorts of trauma as mine has.

So, yes, I knew better. So why did I stay?  Maybe it was masochism, or temporary insanity. Or maybe it was hope. I kept hoping it would get better. Yes, that's it, or at least part of it. And as I write that I recognize it as something I've done in other areas of my life-- relationship, living situation, what else? At what point do we say, "enough," and get up off of that table?

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Arriving in Austin

My home-away-from-home that is now my home

I left Mercer Island, WA on a Tuesday afternoon and arrived in Austin almost exactly 5 days later to the minute.  Once I got into familiar territory, only 20-30 minutes away from my destination, I got all teary eyed. Finally, this dream was coming true. For nearly 4 years I'd considered coming down to Austin for an extended stay to study Sheng Zhen Gong on a weekly basis with Master Li. The question was never if. The question was always when. Either my own travels or Master Li's travels kept preventing it. But last March I knew the time was coming. Master Li said he would be around more this year. And it was time for me to take the leap. To not worry about walking away from what I'd been building up in the Seattle-area. I knew I had to follow my heart. I also knew it had to wait til Fall.

So I've been here for 5 days now, and so far so good. Monday afternoon when I arrived, I was pretty exhausted and just settled into my room at my friend's house. I'm living with my friend Kay. I've always stayed with her the many times I'd visited Austin over the years. She runs a daycare out of her house, and in the past I'd sleep on a sofabed in her office/baby-napping-crib-filled room. Now I have my own space in the attic. Feels sort of like a dorm room. I even have my bed from college with me-- wow that thing is old. A twin-sized Select Comfort bed. Easy to transport, and having a comfy bed was important to me, so I crammed it into my car. Minimally furnished with just enough. No distractions from the daycare when I'm up here. I have a feeling this is where I'm going to complete writing at least one of my books in progress.

Speaking of writing, one reason I'm here is to help Master Li with a book revision. I found out yesterday that it's going to be easier than expected! Some of the work we thought we'd need to do because of lost notes doesn't need to be done because the notes were found. This is great, as it means more time and energy for me to work on my own writing as well.

I feel so inspired here. So fresh. I think it's a combination of things. A new place (although I am quite familiar with it). The sun. The friendly people. The Sheng Zhen. All the little kids running around the place 5 days a week; they're so cute and creative. The manifestation of this dream of mine. The commitment to focus on qigong and writing only (no bodywork or seeking out a job) for at least the next 3 months, and quite possibly through the end of Spring depending on finances and which doors may open or close here and/or elsewhere.

So have I done any writing yet? Not exactly. Emails. A couple of blog entries. I've been busy settling in. Tuesday went shopping for a few essentials for my room (like a comfy desk chair for all the writing I'll be doing ;)), along with a cute little rug with a lion on it I couldn't resist getting for my friend Sasha's baby girl; she's a leo. Grocery shopping. Eating. I needed to eat a lot the first day or two to get grounded from all the driving. At least that's my excuse. Oh, and I found a great little yoga studio just down the street! Walked home that evening with a smile on my face not just from the yoga, but from an email asking me to teach a few additional classes in Seattle when I visit for a week in November. I went to sleep very happy.

And then it was Wednesday, which was a 12 hour day spent at the acupuncture school down here where Master Li teaches one class after another on Wednesdays, including an evening class open to the public. I've always been curious to see how he starts off a new class session. Although I've been to many workshops, a few teacher trainings, and even some of his weekly classes, I've never had an ongoing weekly experience or been there for the very first class of a series. In a couple of the classes we spent 1 to 2 hours on just 1 movement! It was awesome. I especially enjoyed the movement we did repeatedly in the evening for the form called Releasing the Heart. It involved rubbing your head, circling your hand from chin up the side  and back of your head and down the other side, repeatedly. And extra repeatedly since we were practicing it so much! I think it released some major oxytocin in me. Or maybe I was just getting slap happy from such a long day.

But then Thursday I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Groggy and cranky. It wore off for a little while, during my meeting with Master Li about the book revision, and driving him to the airport. But as soon as I headed back to Kay's after dropping him off, I was cranky again. I'd been on cloud 9 so much recently, I didn't mind. In fact, there was something sort of nice about it, oddly enough. I get some pretty deep thoughts and insights when cranky. It's also nice to see how much better I've gotten at just observing myself and practicing compassion, and simply allowing rather than trying to force myself out of it. I still seem to manage to find the silver linings when cranky, but it doesn't mean you should mess with me on those days! ;) My editor machine goes out the window and tolerating others' behaviors or words without calling them on it is unlikely. I called someone on her passive aggressiveness as lovingly and delicately as I possibly could, but it didn't go over so well. Oh well! But I digress....

I don't remember what I did yesterday afternoon. Probably nothing. Literally. And then it was time for an evening class that Kay would be subbing since Master Li was gone. I got to demo the first movement from Origin of the Heart with her since I was the only other person in class who knew it. That cheered me up a bit. I like being able to help. I also met someone in class I could see befriending. That's always nice, especially when new in town.

And today? Well, I decided not to go to a morning dance class and not to go to yoga (at least not til much later), and not to get in my car at all today if possible. I've been driving so much, and so driven, in such a go go go mode that I just wanna chill today. So I spent the first part of the morning playing with some of the kids and then retreated back to my room, where here I am blogging instead of working on my book. But I will. I'm getting there. Yes. I am.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Strange Night, Cool Dreams

Last night was a strange one. I was in a Motel 6 in Fort Stockton, Texas. Less than 6 hours away from Austin, my final destination on this road trip from Seattle. Maybe it was foolish of me to watch a t.v. show with paranormal activity so late at night, or maybe the motel room was haunted. I don't know. But when I turned off the light to go to sleep, I had a strong and uncomfortable feeling that I wasn't alone. Not just that I wasn't alone, but that there was something right up in my personal space that shouldn't be there.

I turned on the light and clapped my hands for awhile in an attempt to clear the space; I've heard that works. Turned off the light again. No good. So I turned on the Cartoon Network and slept on and off through the night with the t.v. on. If there's such a thing as ghosts, apparently they don't like cartoons. And if it was all in my head, apparently my head does. Either way, it worked.

But within an hour or so of finally falling asleep, BOOM! Thunder. Lots of it. Super loud. Super close. And the sound of pouring rain. A storm.

I woke up frequently all throughout the night, but each time falling asleep again easily. And each time having a crazy cool dream. There were several. But there are two that were the most interesting and that I remember most clearly now.

One was super vivid but hard to describe. The visuals were really striking. There were a bunch of people in what looked like an airport, or an airplane, or a large ship-- something that was taking us somewhere, or about to-- but not like anything I've seen. Futuristic maybe? Other worldly? And outside was pitch black. And there was some sort of chaos out there, but everybody inside was calm and/or oblivious to it. And then I saw something out the window. It was like a hole in the black sky and inside the hole was some sort of electric activity that was hot pink. And all the blackness, all the sky, was actually spinning around this hole, maybe even being sucked into it and through it. As I write this, it sounds sort of dark and ominous. But it wasn't! It was beautiful. And fascinating. Not scary. Not dark. As I Google Image search for this, I find "electromagnetic discharge." Interesting....  I think being in Roswell at that UFO museum may have had something to do with this dream. That and the lightning storm last night.

In the other most memorable dream, I was flying through the air with dolphins. Not flying like a bird. Flying like a dolphin. Or like a cannon ball. Mostly I was in the water with them, surrounded actually, by a pod that was mostly sleeping with just a few that were active and quite lively with their swimming and "flying." It was sort of dark where we were, in a lagoon or an ocean. It seemed to be night. I wondered when I woke up if I'd only been half asleep when I had that dream, like the way dolphins dream (or so I read). Maybe it was my turn to experience something through Coral, instead of her experiencing through me. Or maybe it was just a dream! Probably.... But who knows? In my opinion, and experience, anything is possible.

© 2012 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.