TOP 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT HALLOWEEN

10. The whole thing.
9. Everything about it.
8. Pretty much the whole month of October.
7. The day before.
6. The actual day.
5. The day after
4. The premise.
3. The threat of "Trick-or-Treat!"
2. The leftover candy.
1. My attitude about it.

Yea, see, I haven't blogged for awhile because I've just been super busy behaving like a caged animal. I'm going to blame it on the memoir. I'm still writing the damn thing. I can't tell you what draft I'm on now, I keep mixing old with new - let's call this draft a hybrid. Let's also call it what it is, pure torture. It's double the torture right now because I'm working with my writing teacher and she's "making" me go "three layers deeper" in the extra hard to write about parts.

She tells me once I finish this process I'll be able to permanently move past it - there will be great healing. And I believe her. I've seen the healing take place in some of our students that have allowed us to push, push and push some more until there is breakthrough. Otherwise, it's just a state of perpetual transitional labor with no baby to hold in your arms at the end.

So, I'm in the transitional fire. Pretty much feeling all aspects of that ring of fire, too, as I approach the final push. My skin is breaking out, my stomach is a mess, I can't sleep, I am not my usual delightful self. I'm on my own last nerve. When I do nod off for my little night naps, I dream of death, fire and suicide - all symbols of transformation and re-birth (or psychosis).

So I light candles, incense, play pretty, soothing background music and make myself my own midwife. I build a fire and wrap in down comforters, sitting at the hearth with a cup of ambition. I drink lots of water. I take breaks and watch "Seinfeld" on DVD for a laugh. I am going to birth this baby if it's the last thing I do. It's feeling like twins in the breach position right now, but that's OK. I've been through worse, as the memoir will attest. I've also seen the other side of suffering, and know the peace that is possible, as the memoir will also attest, when I am done. For that's the whole point, isn't it? Wisdom born of pain? Profound compassion and peace? Love, love and more love?

TOP 10 SATURDAY MORNING RANTS

10. Blogger found my last posting "objectionable" - seems they don't like the term, "sexual trauma."
9. I'm really sorry they don't like the term, "sexual trauma," good thing they are OK with PORN!
8. I'm not really OK with ACTUAL SEXUAL TRAUMA!
7. My last photo that had the help sign with a question mark? That linked people to the military when they tried to post a comment.
6. I find the link between "help" and "military" to be objectionable.
5. When I looked for a new "help" photo, I found a picture of coffee beans.
4. I do not find the link between "help" and "coffee" to be objectionable.
3. I followed the link between help and coffee and found scientific EVIDENCE, people, that caffeine consumption boosts executive brain function!
2. I have not had enough executive brain function enhancing beverage this morning to get right with Blogger's line of thinking.
1. I can't wait to see how many ways I've pissed them off now.

It's EVERYWHERE and affects EVERYONE - we are all either survivors of sexual abuse ourselves, or know someone that is. We all know several, actually, it's the most under-reported crime there is, and victims sometimes never tell anyone, ever. Never. We have to make it safe for them to do so, but that's a whole other blog.

If you are looking for help, these are a few sites that are good - I know my readers know of many others, so I ask you to list them with your comments, please.


Sidran Institute

The Wounded Healer Journal

Survivors of Incest Anonymous

The Center at the Psychiatric Institute of Washington

Post Traumatic Stress Center

A Survivor's True Perspective of Sexual Trauma/Abuse

Prolifically Raw - Jennifer Lauck's Blog

Identity Crisis

I had the chance to spend Monday night with three other writers/women/mothers. We've had every level of "success" with our writing, starting with me (zero) to a NYT bestselling author, and two inbetween. The conversation started there, the pros and cons of "success" and the many ways society defines "success" and what's the big deal with it, anyway? My head was left spinning. What do I want for my writing? Publication? Any publication? Giant publication? Will I be happy with anything "less" than a spot on Oprah's overrated (I hear) couch? If I knew right now that not a word I type will ever make it past the wonderful audience of this blog, would that stop me? Do I write for myself or for others? Do I write to sort my own thoughts, process my own story, and inevitably, better myself as a person? I say I do! Then, why isn't that "enough?" Why do I burn with desire to be published - mainstream America, see myself on a poster at Barnes & Noble, the whole nine-yards? Is that just ego? Don't I think that being driven by the ego is TFBS? I'm so confused.

From publishing our conversation turned to motherhood. We all have two children, a boy and a girl. We came into motherhood for different reasons, just like we came into writing. We've had varying degrees of "success" with our motherhood. We've "enjoyed" motherhood very differently, yet love our kids beyond words, beyond anything. And the question of why do we become mothers came up for me. Do we do it for ourselves of for our kids? Do we want to mother because of all we have to give, or all we hope to get from the experience?

When I was young and motherhood bound, people tried to warn me, "It's the hardest thing you'll ever do!" "You'll lose your life to your kids, you won't get it back until they leave the nest." Nothing deterred me. I wanted motherhood despite all warnings of its impending peril.

That's just how I feel about publication, too. I'm sure it has impending peril. I'm sure I'll become owned by my writing, lose my life to it, wish for things to be as "easy" as they were before. But that won't stop me. Like motherhood, I would not be even close to the person I am today without having gone on that journey.

Save me a seat, Oprah, I'm coming to see you soon.

Michelle O'Neil got me hooked on my damn StatCounter, and now I have a whole new way to piss the day away! OMG! Just today people in Portugal, Tel Aviv, Liverpool, Budapest,Tokyo, and British Columbia read me! Wow - my head is so big, it's just a really good thing my visor is adjustable! I am beside myself wondering what people from "over there" find interesting about my musings/rantings/brags/soapbox! Please, tell me! Leave a comment! Put me out of my misery.

Just to thank you for your trouble, I've got a special Top 10 List for you:

TOP 10 THINGS I LOVE ABOUT MY STAT COUNTER
10. It gives me something to check other than my horoscope and the weather.
9. It reassures me that I'm not just writing this shit for my own amusement.
8. It shows me what I always suspected, we are all more alike than different.
7. The Internet truly is an international net!
6. Coffee makes the world go round.
5. I'm not the only one that spends way too much time at her computer.
4. When I go on book tour for my as-of-yet-unpublished-but-all-written-in-my-head-memoir, I'll get to meet my "fans."
3. It's fine that I've spent the day ignoring my husband and children because I've got an international audience that needs me!
2. I can make a much bigger deal than is necessary about anything and everything!
1. love. is universal.

Just finished reading Michelle's posting about shopping with her darling seven-year-old. If you've been following Riley's journey, you'll know what a big deal the shopping experience was, and I am THRILLED for Michelle. I'm also human, however, and need to compare her shopping trip yesterday with mine. I took my 13-year-old and her friend shopping. Here's a Top 10 List just about that:

TOP 10 THINGS MY DAUGHTER AND I ARGUED ABOUT DURING OUR SHOPPING TRIP

10. Whether or not her cell phone was on or off.
9. Whether or not her i-Pod was actually broken, or just had not been charged.
8. If the parking space had a limit of 4 hours, why did I consider that "ample" and she felt "rushed."
7. If ANOTHER jacket was more important than the jeans we were there to shop for.
6. If "not leaving your friend's side for a minute" really meant "not leaving your friend's side for a minute."
5. Which stairs we came down from the parking garage.
4. Which way American Eagle was when we got in the mall.
3. Why I said yes to buying one drink, but no to buying two (at the exact same time).
2. Why I agreed to rent them a movie for the night, but didn't agree to rent four.
1. Why it was time to leave the mall, even though we hadn't been there four hours, and our parking space still had more time.

GOODBYE, LITTLE STORE

We moved to this "village", technically a neighborhood, 14 days before my son, Rojo, was born. When he began crying and didn't stop for a year and a half, I couldn't take him anywhere except "The Little Store" that was around the corner from my house. I was there daily. Postage stamps, cash, beer, wine, coffee, snacks, they had everything I could possibly need, and I didn't have to load the kids in the car to get there.

Rojo's first trip there was in the back of my brand new double stroller. His 2-year-old sister was buckled in the front, he lay sprawled (and screaming) in the back. He was so new he still had his umbilical cord stump.

Tomorrow is "The Little Store's" last day under the original owners. I can't help thinking an era is over. There will be new owners, villagers, actually, and I'm sure it will be wonderful, but it won't be the same. These owners haven't watched Rojo grow since the day he came in with his "stump" over eleven years ago.

As we moved through our journey with Rojo, they moved with us. His progress, lack of progress, the owners, Carol and Gary, have watched and listened. They have literally, seen him grow up right before their eyes.

Tomorrow I take the kids to say good-bye. I was hoping they'd continue to watch and listen as Rojo reaches milestones along the way. I even had illusions that he'd bring his own little boy in the store twenty years from now, the umbilical stump still attached to his newborn, and show Carol and Gary what a great man/father he'd become. Full circle, you know, that kind of thing.

It's so true, it takes a village to raise a child, and we thank all of you for being in our village, both literally and electronically.

love.

MOVE OVER, POST SECRET!

THIS is my latest obsession, all things Ingrid Michaelson! She is so my second favorite singer (Tracy Grammer will always be my first. You're the best, Tracy!)

Good news, bad news, Ingrid has a voice you want to join right in with. Nobody wants to listen to Ingrid and me sing, but too bad, because if you come anywhere near my house these days that's what you're going to hear! You might have heard one of her songs on a new Old Navy commercial, and yes, that song is cute, but the rest of her songs are not cute, they are gorgeous. I'm particularly hooked on "Keep Breathing."

Keep Breathing

The storm is coming but I don't mind.
People are dying, I close my blinds.

All that I know is I'm breathing now.

I want to change the world...instead I sleep.
I want to believe in more than you and me.

But all that I know is I'm breathing.
All I can do is keep breathing.
All we can do is keep breathing now.

All that I know is I'm breathing.
All I can do is keep breathing.
All we can do is keep breathing now.

All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing.
All we can do is keep breathing now.

I particularly love/hate the line about "I want to change the world... instead I sleep." That is so me. I get overwhelmed with all that needs changing and take refuge in my bed, head under the covers, deep in sleep, far away from all responsibilities. I suppose there are worse coping mechanisms, but still...

Fortunately it's not all up to me to change the world. There is hope:

Check this out.

I ALWAYS WONDERED ABOUT THAT!


I'm still obsessed with PostSecret. Here are a few more of my best kept secrets:

I feel bad for the clothes in my closet that I don't wear. I think I'm hurting their feelings.

I feel guilty about the books in "the pile," especially when I read one out of order, giving it "cuts" to the books that have been standing in line longer.

I have t-shirts in my drawer older than my children, older than my marriage, and sometimes I love them most of all.

I don't trust anyone that says, "Trust me!"

I usually know what someone is going to say before they say it, and it's all I can do to answer the question before they ask it.

I have more mugs than Carter has pills, but everytime I'm somewhere that sells mugs, I take a look.

If you knew how much I think about coffee, you'd be alarmed.

To find out WTF a meme is, click here.

To find out what it's like to be single and date during the second half of life, click here.

To find out all the other really valuable bits of knowledge I have, check this site every day!

love.

A MEME ABOUT ME AND MY WRITING

1) If the house were on fire I would take my computer and e-mail and blog while it burned to the ground.

2) I only know what I'm thinking after I read it on the screen.

3) I am way funnier in person than I am in my writing, and I'm pretty hilarious in my writing.

4) I spend all my good writing energy on my blog then find excuses all day why I can't possibly write my "real" stuff.

5) I don't know WTF a MEME is, but Michelle O'Neil tagged me, and I'm afraid of Michelle O'Neil, not to mention HT, that's one scary ass dude!

OK, I tag Deb, La La, Ziji, Kim, and Lee.

OK, my mom's birthday is today, she's 77. Today is the 11th. I'm in my power year, 44. I woke up last night at 11:11, 12:21, 2:22 and 4:44. My son is 11, I had him in my last power year, 33. He's a numbers guy. I didn't think I was. I'm freaking myself out.


Just found this on the Web: "Number Eleven possesses the qualities of intuition, patience, honesty, sensitivity, and spirituality, and is idealistic. Others turn to people who are 'Eleven' for teaching and inspiration, and are usually uplifted by the experience.

In systems such as Astrology and basic Numerology, eleven is considered to be a Master Number. Eleven can also represent sin; transgression and peril. Ten being the perfect number, eleven represents the exceeding of both. It is interesting to note that eleven when broken down ( 1+1=2) comprises the Two of duality. Number eleven is a master vibration and as such should not be reduced to a single number.People with this number could be both idealistic and visionary, and they are attracted to the unknown.They can be both unusual, interesting and magnetic personalities.

Eleven bring the gift of spiritual inheritance, is gifted as the "Light-Bearer". It is the number of the Light within all. Strengthened by the love of Peace, gentleness, sensitivity and insight. Greatest facility is the awareness of Universal relationship. Is related to the energy of Oppositions and the Balancing needed in order to achieve synthesis. Eleven is The PeaceMaker... Colours : Gold, Salmon, Prune, White and Black" www.greatdreams.com

Can someone please tell me what color "prune" is?

SECRETS part 2

Key-rist, I'm more convinced than ever that our secrets are toxic to us, and those around us. The new book, A Lifetime of Secrets, is becoming a bestseller already, and it just went on the market yesterday. That tells me that we all relate. We relate to the burden of keeping our own secrets. We relate to the burden of keeping the secrets of others'. We relate, and resent, the secrets we keep from our childhoods. Those, especially, are killing us. Killing us. The Dalai Lama says, (you can go ahead and call him "H.H." like I do) "Peace of mind is crucial for good health. Of course, good facilities, the right medicine, and food also make a difference. But happiness is the most important factor for good health." We can do yoga, we can take vitamins and eat organically, but if we're not happy, we're not healthy. Period.

I'm taking all my churning thoughts on secrets and applying them to the writing life workshop we just wrapped in Sisters. Without exception the students "suffer" from secrets. Some judge their own secrets as being "less" than others, more benign, but there isn't a whole lot of room for judgment when it comes to secrets. Our bodies don't distringuish between "big" secrets and "small" secrets, "worthy" secrets and "petty" secrets. Our bodies react to secrets fair and square, and I'm thinking, on a first come, first serve basis. The older the secret, the more toxic.

So the question becomes what to do with all these secrets. I think we HAVE to get them out of our bodies. Writing an anonymous postcard to PostSecret might be hugely helpful, or it might be the first bit of toxic gas that we let out, which makes may for the big load.

I believe writing our secrets out is therapeutic and healing. Whether or not our secrets are shared with others isn't always the point, but by moving them from thought/feeling to articulated words, moves them. The movement alone creates more movement, there's a domino effect. Like with dominoes, we may feel all this movement of story that's been trapped inside of us for so long, fells us. We may feel worse before we feel better, but I can say from first hand experience and from observing our students over time, they do feel better eventually. Not a little better, either, WAY better. Life-changingly better.

I'm hearing comments now that startle and upset me, "I can't believe you still like me after I told you all that." I think that epitomizes what we fear, that if others truly knew us, REALLY knew us, they wouldn't like us anymore. I can't speak for everyone (although I'd dearly love to), but I am not really interested in fake-knowing anyone. I REALLY want to know the people I know, and the more I know of them, the more compassion I can have for them, the universal truths I see in our stories, and the more I am able to turn that knowledge both inward and outward, seeing myself and all of humanity more clearly. How is that a problem?

“That which is most personal is most universal.”
--Henri Nouwen, priest and author

I stole that quote from Jenny Rough's Blog. I'm pretty much claiming it as my own, as I've said this at least 100 times in the last week. It's so true, don't you think?

I've also been hearing a lot of people tell me they want to come to a workshop, but they don't want to write a memoir. I'm thinking of organizing a "I'll be damned if I'm ever going to write a memoir" workshop. Who's in?

love.

Note to reader: I have posts started on our amazing writing workshop, secrets, and at least 3 other things, but for today, I must stop and say:

HOW 'BOUT 'EM COWBOYS?!"

I HATE football. I don't understand the game and have no interest in trying to. That being said, yesterday was Monday, and at our house that only means one thing for the season, "It's a Monday night party!" Our lives screech to a halt so Rojo can run to the nearest TV and hear those words that commence each game. The day is carefully constructed so he can be where he needs to be when those precious words are spoken.

Long about 8:00 he got hip to the fact that the game wasn't going to be over in time to cooperate with his bedtime. His bedtime being accurate is important to him (can you say perseveration?). He bellowed from down the hall, "Mom! Will you Google who wins the Dallas/Buffalo game?"

"I can't Google that, Sweet Love, it's not over."

"But MOM! I am going to bed at 8:30 and I need to know who wins before I go to bed!"

At age 11 we still are struggling with the concept of before and after.

"I promise to Google the score for you before you wake up tomorrow!"

We seemed to have an understanding but then the damn game got interesting.

"Mom, I cannot go to bed at 8:30 today. The Cowboys are going to win and there's only 2 more minutes in the game."

"But Rojo, sometimes 2 minutes takes an hour in football."

"But MOM! The Cowbows are going to win and the 2 minutes will not take an hour. Please let me watch the Cowboys win. Please let me stay up until 8:49."

He begged me to come watch the last 2 minutes with him, and I was so tired I accepted the oppotunity to stretch out next to him and pretend to watch through closed eyes.

"Mom! You cannot see the Cowboys win with your eyes closed!"

"They can't win, Rojo, they are too far behind."

"Mom! How many times do I have to tell you? The Cowboys are going to win! They are going to get a touchdown and the extra points. It will be 22 to 24 and then they will win 25 to 24. Mom, why do you not believe me?"

Well, I'll be damned if he wasn't right about the entire thing, including the time the game was officially over. He's turned me into a football fan, not to mention the fact that I'm totally flying his ass to Vegas with me ASAP!

I PROMISE NOT TO TELL

I've been thinking a lot about secrets lately. At the Ruth King Celebrating Rage retreat we did an exercise with secrets. The exercise was meant to foster compassion and empathy for ourselves and others, and it was highly effective. What struck me with the secrets that were shared (anonymously) were how many were related to sex. Seems we, women at least, have lots of shame/guilt over sex. Lots and lots of our sexual selves is a big secret.

I've also been thinking how good we are at keeping secrets. It's almost like the more dysfunctional the family is, the better the children are at keeping the secrets of the family. We're also really good at keeping secrets from ourselves, and telling ourselves we don't know what we actually DO know. This is perpetuated when a child does risk telling a trusted person a secret, and then subsequently not being believed. It doesn't take a kid long to figure out there's no point in telling, they won't be believed anyway, then the kid starts doubting themselves, etc., etc., etc.

I still struggle when it comes to "telling" and even recently I've had the "I don't believe you" experience. I tell myself it doesn't matter what others think, I know I'm telling the truth, but it hurts like hell when you're not believed.

Thanks to my friend, Jerri, I learned of this fascinating website, Post Secret. Again, I'm mesmerized by the secrets, and the percent that is sexually related.

I have a theory, if we lived in a society where children were believed (and children lie to avoid consequences, not because they are natural born liars) we could stop the abuse that perpetuates and keeps sexual predators safe, and the victims held hostage by their secrets.

Just a theory.

TOTALLY BECOMING A VEGETARIAN

That plan to sleep with one-eye open last night? Not a good plan. I feel today like someone that hovered over sleep and never actually landed, yet I had a nightmare, so must have touched-down briefly enough for THIS!

I was at the neighbor's house helping her get ready for Thanksgiving. She opened the oven door and there were two animal heads in there. She had put them in the oven ALIVE and they were being cooked to death! The head on the left was CRYING. I will resist putting this "on the body" because you'll be sick to your stomach all day, and I'm just not that selfish.

So, here we go:

I (part of me) was at the neighbor's (part of me) house (part of me) getting (part of me) ready (part of me) for Thanksgiving (part of me). She (part of me) opened (POM) the oven (POM) door (POM) and there were two (POM) animal (POM) heads (POM) in there. She (POM) put (POM) them (POM) in the oven (POM) alive (POM) and they (POM) were being (POM) cooked (POM) to death (POM). The head (POM) on the left (POM) was crying (POM).

There is a neigboring part of me that is giving thanks that doors are being opened. The left side of my brain (analytic) is dying and is crying over that death.

Key-rist!

Had the weirdest dream. I was helping a bride find a wedding dress. We went into a secret back room and were looking at all the short, form fitting, glittery cocktail dresses. They were all perfect for "her" even though I couldn't see her in the dream. Then she said, "but there aren't any so you can match!" I tried to explain that the maid-of-honor didn't match the bride, she matched the other bridesmaids, but the bride wanted us to match.

Doing what Ruth King taught us to do, apply precept language to the dream, it sounds like this:

Then she (part of me) said, "but there aren't any (part of me) so you can match (part of me).

What part of me wants to match up and can't?

Also dreamed I was being led by a man with a gun, he kept shooting the gun, but there weren't any bullets. I stopped being afraid after the first false attempt, but he kept trying to "shoot" me.

I was being led (part of me) by a man (part of me) with a gun (part of me) but there weren't any bullets (part of me). I stopped (part of me) being afraid (part of me) after (part of me) the first (part of me) false (part of me) attempt (part of me), but he (part of me) kept trying (part of me) to shoot (part of me).

So, now there's a part of me with a gun that shoots blanks and I'm not afraid? There's a false part of me that still tries to attack me?

OMG, this stuff really works. I'm sleeping with one eye open tonight, that's enough for awhile.

Woke up with a LONG "should list" in my head today, and before I could rightfully should all over myself, I put the list on paper. Then I turned the paper over and made a list of what I WANT to do today. Comparing the two lists there is only one overlap, "shower" - gotta go, I have very little I'm going to do today.

PLEASE TELL ME IT'S FEBRUARY 3rd!

Ever see that movie with Bill Murray, "Groundhog Day?" The one where every day is exactly the same as the one before by some twisted turn of fate? Ever feel your life is eerily like that? You keep bumping up against the same issues never actually resolving them, but bumping, bumping, always bumping? Ever get tired of all that bumping? Yea, me too.

That's why I've declared today is the day AFTER Groundhog's Day, February 3rd. I've written 2-3 on my right hand with a Sharpie, a constant reminder of what is "right" (get it?) I am DONE with the same issues and all that bumping. I am ready for DIFFERENT issues, I'm so sick of this set I can hardly stand it!

I woke up this morning, got that first cup of coffee, sat in my robe and slippers and ripped off yesterday's quote-of-the-day by the Dalai Lama, and read today's. "When you die you go alone, and the only light to accompany you derives from the spiritual practice or positive acts you have done."

Spiritual practice and/or positive acts, hmmm, yes, note to self, do that. Fighting the same fights, staying in a rut, that is neither spiritual nor positive.

I'm pretty sure my Groundhog Day experiences are here to teach me something, and if only I'd learn them, they would stop haunting me. Today's the day I pick up the charge of student and look long and deeply into the eye of the "groundhog" and show it who's boss. Ain't lettin' no groundhog run this show anymore!

If you are a mom, have a mom, or are thinking of becoming a mom...

Click here.

Sue Monk Kidd

Top 10 Quotes from The Dance of the Dissident Daughter:

10. "Feminist thealogian Carol P. Christ states that a woman's awakening begins with an 'experience of nothingness.' It comes as she experiences emptiness, self-negation, disillusionment, a deep-felt recognition of the limitation placed on women's lives, especially her own."

9. "...we carry not only our own wounding experiences, but the inherited wounds of our mothers and grandmothers as well."

8. "...as long as one woman is dehumanized, none of us can be fully human."

7. "During awakening, volatility often lies just beneath the surface of a woman's relationshop with her partner...Men need to become aware, but blaming them does not help. It only polarizes. Eventually I came to see that what's needed is to invite men into our struggle, to make them part of our quest."

6. "Overall, women's voices have not been encouraged unless they spoke as mouthpieces for the party line. Quiet ladies who held their tongues were loved and lauded. Uppity, pioneering women who spoke their minds and said bold things were attacked and sanctioned. 'And that plays into our greratest fear, which is going against convention and having love and approval taken away,' says writer Erica Jong.
Very often silence becomes the female drug of choice."

5. "My ultimate authority is the divine voice in my own soul. Period."

4. "...the wise and difficult love that reminds parents that all we can really do is be true to our own spiritual unfolding and trust that our examples will one day help them be true to theirs. For children have a guiding spiritual wisdom inside of them, too."

3. "(Women) have to come to understand ourselves as central, not peripheral, before anything real can happen. We have to depend on ourselves... This cannot be done against men, and that's the real problem... It cannot be woman against man. It has to be woman finding her true self with or without man, but not against man." - May Sarton

2. "Women's lives are made up of cycles of descent and ascent. At crucial times we must seek out periods of inner solitude, deep brooding and being, intervals of spiritual apartness where we move down into the depths of ourselves to mine the dark gorge and bring new treasure into the light."

1. "Yet anger needs not only to be recognized and allowed; like the grief, it eventually needs to be transformed into an energy that serves compassion. Maybe one reason I had avoided my anger was that like a lot of people I had thought there were only two responses to anger: to deny it or to strike out thoughtlessly. But other responses are possible. We can allow anger's enormous energy to lead us to acts of resistance against patriarchy. Anger can fuel our abilty to challenge, to defy injustice. It can lead to creative projects, constructive behavior, acts that work toward inclusion. In such ways anger becomes a dynamism of love."

That's all I'm sayin, I hope that's all you're hearing me say!

love.

SHALL WE DANCE?

Four years ago we moved into our house, kicking a couple of dissident daughters out. I say dissident (disagreeing with an established religion) because while these simply-dressed, grey-haired women had been married to Jesus for nearly 50 years each, they were hardly anyone's "Little Mrs." God was always referred to as feminine, and Mother Earth was worshipped and revered, A few hundred years ago this kind of thinking would have gotten these women branded witches, and had them burned at the stake. I'd like to think we share a past life experience in that regard, for I'm sure I spent at least one incarnation being incinerated for my dissident ways. At least I hope so. I pray I wasn't the one lighting the matches.

Sister Mary, the primary dweller of our home before it became our home, highly recommended a book to me, and I put it in the pile.

"The Pile" had some impressive titles waiting for me, and many were "up" before this one. I had just read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, and Sister Mary was pushing me to read one of her non-fiction books, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter. “I think this book will really resonate with you, Carrie,” she said while giving me a knowing look. I chose to ignore her “knowing.” I wasn’t ready for that kind of “knowing.” Four years ago I wasn't nearly as dissident as I am now, and nothing about the book called to me, but I'm a good girl, and obediently ordered the book and placed it in line to be read.

This summer of 2007 may well go down as my Summer of Dissidence. I read, thought and did all kinds of out-there things, out there for me, anyway. One doesn't have to stretch far or wide to be "out there" for me, straight-laced, good, even puritanical are apt words to describe me. This summer I studied archetypes, goddesses, dakinis (flying dieties of Tibetan Buddhism), mythology, folk tales, astrology, homeopathy, chakras and nature, our Mother. Like I said, "out there."

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree they say, and I am no exception. My mother, sandwiched between six brothers and raised by an over-bearing Baptist minister father, had patriarchy down pat. She "rebelled" as a young woman and became Episcopalian. While being an Episcopalian is a long way away from the fire and brimstone of Baptists, those roots from her childhood had taken firm hold, and popped up like weeds early and often in my upbringing. Barry Manilow was a "rock star" and his poster in my room had to come down - worshipping false gods. My Aquarius poster, too, had to come down, even though she'd given it to me. It was evil, work of the devil, opened my mind to sin and corruption if I wasn't vigilant. Vigilant was my middle name, the poster and all thoughts towards astrology were rinsed clean by the blood of Christ. My life as a child felt like hell, there was no way I was going to spend all eternity there. If all it took to ensure my gateway to heaven was removing thumbtacks from my wall, that worked for me.

For much of my Dissident Summer of ’07 I listened to books on CDs. Gary Zukav, Tsultrim Allione, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and Eckhart Tolle among others. I kept The Dance of the Dissident Daughter in the pile all summer, but never got to it, still wasn’t calling my name.

Yesterday the book called my name.

“Carrie,” the book shouted from the pile. “Pick me up. I have the words you are looking for. I am the last piece of the puzzle. You are ready for me now.”

I spent all day yesterday before a fire, wrapped in afghans made by my mother, in her house in Sisters. I took a “sick day.” I never showered, never got out of my pajamas, never “did” anything. I was sick, too. Soul sick. Sad. Disillusioned. Feeling displaced. Betwixt and between. Depressed. Teary.

My Dissident Summer was over. I’d disassembled my life this summer, I’d pulled everything apart and analyzed it to death. Many parts indeed died, they were on their last legs anyway. Some parts were struggling to survive and I chose to fan their tiny flame and get them roaring again. I moved from confusion to clarity to confusion over and over again.

Driving over the mountain Friday from Portland to Sisters, I saw how clearly fall is here now, and summer is gone. There is that cold bite to the air that wasn’t here in August. Many of the trees and shrubs lining the highway are turning brilliant colors. As they approach death they spark and enflame, giving life their last hurrah before falling to the ground and turning to compost. Many parts of me alit before dying, wanting one last desperate bit of attention. Now they lie around and feed the new growth. Their lives not having been lived in vain. Their death making possible new life. The cycle continuing.

And so I lay all day yesterday in a stew of old and new, death, dying, re-birth, pregnant with the future. Sue Monk Kidd’s book a key, if not last, piece of the puzzle. She expertly details the process I’ve been going through, and all I can say is, “ditto.”

Thank you Sister Mary. Thank you Sue Monk Kidd. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, my daughter. Thank you Grandma. Thank you Mary our Mother. Thank you Mother Earth. Thank you, dissident daughters, everywhere.

TOP 10 PERSONAL DISCOVERIES MADE AT THE RAGE RETREAT

10. Rage carries an energy that when released, leaves you exhausted - sleep for days kind of exhausted.
9. When the rage is gone, there is room for all the other emotions, and much more compassion.
8. Always being the victim is passive aggression.
7. We are all both perpetrators and victims.
6. I'm not the extrovert I thought I was.
5. I've done more of "my work" than I thought I had.
4. It is possible to have nothing but compassion for those that have hurt you the most.
3. It's easy, and natural, to become addicted to our suffering, and letting it go can bring on withdrawals.
2. Don't take everything so personally - most of people's "stuff" has little, or nothing to do with us, even when they try to tell us otherwise.
1. The answer to all questions is love.

PORN FOR WOMEN

I had the wonderful opportunity to see Blair Tyler Peters recently, and she had this book out on a coffee table. We howled with laughter, and I think many of you will too.

Recently, my mate of 21 years said the sexiest thing he's ever said to me. I was bemoaning how little I was putting (zero) into my parenting and wifing these last 3 months, and how guilty I felt about that. He said, holding his arms out wide, "This is our marriage." Then, squeezing his fingers together with barely a gap between, "this is the period of time we're talking about now."

Even if he had cleaned the whole house, I couldn't have felt more loved.

WHEN MOHAMMAD WON'T COME TO THE MOUNTAIN...

In addtion to all the wonderful things that I learned from Ruth King at the "Celebrating Rage" retreat, I also met a dear friend of hers, Lucia Capacchione. Lucia is a force in her own right, but for the retreat she was an assistant to Ruth. She so believes in the work that Ruth does, and it is in such alignnment with what she's out in the world doing, she "gave back" and volunteered her weekend to helping women resolve their rage.

At the end of one particularly dramatic exercises Ruth had us do, we journaled about it. Upon Lucia's suggestion, we wrote with our non-dominent hand. She explained that by doing so, we would be accessing our right brain, and allowing our psyche to speak up, where usually the left brain has it under reigns. I gave it a try.

Wow. It was like I was writing with invisible ink. Words I didn't think I was even thinking showed up on the page, totally catching me off guard. I intended one thing, and wrote another. There were two such instances, but the one that freaked me out the most was this one. I intended to write, "I need to be needed." But what my left hand wrote was, "I need to be noted." Undeniably true, but news to me.

I spoke more with Lucia about this afterwards, and learned she had a whole book about this, which of course has long-since been 1-Clicked. Can't wait for it to arrive.

The more I spoke with Lucia, the more "Oh my Gods" there were. She has done a lot of work on Anne Frank's life (I am slightly obsessed with Anne Frank). But the biggest OMG of all was when she ofthandedly mentioned she'd worked with Sister Mary Corita Kent, or "Corita" to those of us that worship her, may she rest in peace. I have Corita art ALL over my house, and more on the way. Everything about this woman turned nun, turned lay person fascinates me, and Lucia worked with her, side-by-side. There are no accidents, that's all I'm sayin'!

For an amazing Ruth King interview on radio, click this link, then access Earth 101 aired yesterday, Tuesday, September 18th. It's 1 1/2 hours long, and will give you much more of an idea of what Reverend Ruth "preaches."



http://archive.kpft.org/

"WHEN YOU ARE PAYING KIND ATTENTION TO RAGE, IT CEASES TO BE A PROBLEM." - Ruth King

Hmmm... today I land, gently and well from the high of the Rage Retreat in Calistoga Springs, California, with the formidable Ruth King. It feels necessary to put the word Reverend before Ruth's name, for that is what she teaches, reverence. There is a peace and stillness in Ruth that is undeniable, and she is here to spread the word that that peace and stillness is possible for all of us.

In a rustic spiritual retreat center surrounded by trees, birds, a cow, horse, goat and a dog, Ruth settles her tiny body and gigantic presence and gets to work. With a room of women representing all walks of life, four continents and thirteeen different stories, Ruth leads us all to the universal truths and messages we seek to integrate into our awareness.

We have come here as woman ready and willing to change. We are here to open our hearts to love. We are here to lay down our swords and pick up the olive branch of peace and extend it to ourselves.

Ruth leads us through the careful release of rage and the art of forgiveness, compassion, and empathy. She expertly moves us through the three and a half day retreat that begins at 7:00 AM each morning, and "ends" at 10:00 PM. Not a minute "wasted," not a second unintentional.

Cutting through all the pretense and BS, women introduce themselves and their struggles, and sleeves are rolled up. If you are not here to "deal" you are not here. The bravest, most honest, searching, open and at times desperate, these are the women that have gathered to do their work. We are women who are at crossroads. We are women contemplating motherhood, divorce, marriage, new careers, new callings. We are women who are killing ourselves with the toxicity of our inner rage. We are women who cry out in pain while simultaneously rejoicing with all that we know is good and true within us and the Universe.

With sensitivity, intuition, firmness and insistance, Ruth takes us each where we are on our paths, and moves us to where it is we seek to go. Where we each seek to go is deeper within ourselves, tapping into inner resources of calm, acceptance, resolution and forgiveness.

To share the particular process Ruth uses would not do it justice, and be confusing. It is best to say Ruth knows what she's doing. She's been doing this work with women for 13 years and has her "act" down. She does not miss a beat. She is fully in charge and commanding while remaining soft and open at all times. This is a woman doing what she has been called to do. That truth shines steadily and reassuringly, Ruth is a lighthouse to those of us in dark periods of our lives.

I invite you to check out Ruth's website, and attend one of her various workshops if you are the slightest bit "called" to do so. If you are called, Ruth will answer. I promise.

"You know you need help when...
1. Someone you care about won't forgive you.
2. Something or someone you love abuses you.
3. You have trouble following your own best judgment.
4. Your health is failing.
5. Someone you love leaves or dies.
6. You're not getting the recognition you feel you deserve.
7. You've out grown your job or your relationship but are having difficulty leaving.
8. Your aging parents who hurt you now need your help.
9. Someone steals your ideas or bad mouths you.
10. You are abusing others and feel ashamed.
11. You feel angry and helpless over the political situation in the US.
12. You stand aside, look away, or become indifferent when others are being harmed.
13. You resent that you put the needs of others before your own.
14. Someone confronts or attacks you.
15. A loved one has problems and you can't help them.
16. You're bored for no good reason.
17. You don't qualify for the job, the loan, shelter, or the next meal.
18. You betray yourself and those you care for again and again.
19. You don't feel worthy so you don't even try.
20. You are afraid to take action on your own behalf.
21. You're sick and tired of being sick and tired.
22. You feel like you are on the verge of a breakthrough and it frightens you.
23. Life is simply not enough.
24. You have difficulty telling the truth.
25. You feel alone and it frightens you.
26. You want your personal rage to work for, not against, you.
27. As smart as you are, you still keep doing the same darn things that you don't like.
28. Nothing in particular is wrong, you just wanna feel more alive, maybe even have a bit of fun."


Healing Rage

The Rage Retreat was AMAZING. All that I took in is still liquid, and I need just a little more time for it to set, before I can do it the justice it so deserves. So, you're going to get a little Top 10 list today...

TOP 10 WAYS YOU KNOW YOU'RE NOT ON RETREAT ANYMORE

10. You get to the airport early so you have time to shop for gifts for the kids.
9. There is nothing your son will like in any of the first 10 shops you go to.
8. You run around the airport like a crazy person until you finally find an Oakland Raiders mini football.
7. You take the tiny football to the counter and the woman says, "That'll be $16.99 plus tax."
6. You don't think twice about blowing twenty bucks on a ridiculous tiny football, but you do wonder how it can possibly be that expensive.
5. Before you get in the house you recover the football from your purse so you can give it to Rojo the second you walk in the door.
4. He is hiding (noisily) behind a couch and you have to "find him."
3. While you pretend to not know where he is, you grab scissors and cut the tags off the football, because you know if you don't, that's the first thing he will do, and he will cut into the football and you'll be sewing the damn thing immediately.
2. You make him pick a hand, he guesses correctly the football is in your left hand. You present the football excitedly.
1. He lights up when he sees it, gives it a squeeze and it begins shouting Raiders cheers. He throws the football on the ground (starting the cheers all over again) and tears up. Toys with noise are not his friend. You now know why the football cost $16.99 plus tax, and you cut open the football, throw in the outside garbage where he can see you doing it, the part that makes the noise, and sew the football back together before you have even had a chance to pee.

Off "celebrating rage," stay tuned! I'll post again on Tuesday!

INTERCONNECTEDNESS STRIKES AGAIN

Just opened a new book to start reading (joy of joys) and found this amazing quote. I had just read Jennifer's blog, and she had an amazing quote from Lao Tzu, then I found an amazing quote by Lao Tzu, and, and, and... And of course Tao Te Ching means, "The Book of Changes," and of course I am in the midst of profound change, and, and, and, so it goes... Like I always say, there are no accidents!




Give up, and you will succeed.
Bow, and you will stand tall.
Be empty, and you will be filled.
Let go of the old, and let in the new.
Have little, and there is room to receive more.

The wise stand out,
because they see themselves as part of the Whole.
They shine,
because they don't want to impress.
They achieve great things, because they don't
look for recognition.
Their wisdom is contained in what they are,
not their opinions.
They refuse to argue,
so no one argues with them.

The Ancients said: "Give up and you will succeed."
Is this empty nonsense?
Try it.
If you are sincere, you will find fulfillment.

Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching (Book of Changes), Chapter 22 (Piatkus, 1995)

NOT A MARK ON 'EM!

Haven't taken both the kids to the grocery store for so long, I'd forgotten why. Now I remember. Here's a snippet for your reading pleasure. Now, if you didn't know already, you'll understand why it's essential I remain fully caffeinated at all times.

FYI: C = me; L = my daughter, W = my son

BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE...

C: We only need four things at Safeway. Four. You can each pick out one treat, so that makes six. Does everyone fully understand the concept of "six?"

L: But what if it's not on the list but we really need it, and it's not a treat for me, but I want it, does that count?

W: I want my treat to be a maple doughnut and a maple bar, but I am only eating the frosting, don't forget. That is not two treats, that is one treat, because they are next to each other. Promise you won't forget that I want a maple bar and a maple doughnut. Promise that if they don't have maple doughnuts I can get two maple bars. Promise that that is only one treat. Promise, don't forget. Do you promise you won't forget? Do you promise we can get one maple doughtnut and one maple bar, or two maple bars and that is only one treat? Promise you won't forget?

C: I promise I won't forget.

GETTING OUT OF THE CAR, APPROACHING THE STORE...

C: L, please take these bags in for me, and put them in the recycling bin.

L: I'll do that, but if there's a pop machine right next to it, can I get a pop? Pop is a beverage, that's not a treat. Please, Mom, can I get a pop if I take the bags in for you?

C: No. Give me the bags. I'll carry the 2 ounces of plastic all by myself, thank you very much.

W: I want to pick the cart!

L: I want to pick the cart! Mom! Please? I never come to the store with you, and W always does. Isn't it my turn to pick the cart?

C: L, you are 13. Please bear that in mind. In the mean time, I will pick the cart.

IMMEDIATELY ENTERING THE STORE...

L: Oh, Mom, I see Oreo Cakesters! Please can we get Oreo Cakesters? They are 2 for $5.00, that's a REALLY good price, Mom! They don't count as my treat though, because they are for my lunches at school. We will need to get two boxes, since they are 2 for $5.00.

C: No Cakesters. And it is not against the law to only buy one of something that is 2 for ____.

L: But they might not let us, Mom, we better get two boxes, just in case.

C: No Cakesters.

W: Can we go get the maple doughnut and maple bar now, please, Mom, can we?

C: When we get to that part of the store, it's on the other side from where we are.

W: Can we just go to that side now, Mom? That is my favorite side! That is the side I love? I am in LOVE with that side of the store! Please, Mom, can't we go to that side of the store first? Promise? Don't forget! I LOVE that side of the store. It is my favorite part of the store. Promise, Mom, you will take me to my favorite part of the store first?

C: Fine.

W: Oh, THANK YOU, Mom! You are my sweet love! You are the best mom in the world! You are not mean like Lois on "Malcolm in the Middle," you are the best mom ever! Thank you for taking me to my favorite side of the store first!

L: I see Tide Free, Mom, we really need to get Tide Free. Remember how you said my excema is bad and we need to switch laundry detergent? That is tht kind I want, Mom. Can I go get some?

C: I already have some, we switched months ago.

L: Well, I will just get more in case we run out.

L: Oh! I REALLY need shaving cream for my legs, Mom. The kind you bought me makes my excema bad.

C: Use soap.

L: I can't possibly use soap!

C: I've been using soap for 44 years and never had a problem!

L: I CAN'T USE SOAP! Don't make me use soap! Soap runs off and then I cut myself. Do you want me to CUT myself?

C: Fine. One can.

L: But it's 2 for $5.00!

C: We've been through this...

L: FINE! I'll just get ONE can! Geez!

W: Can I get "Grips?" Mom? I LOVE Grips! I am in LOVE with Grips! Please, Mom, can I get Grips? Please? Grips are my FAVORITE!

C: No Grips. I am still cleaning up the orange residue all over the house from the last box of Grips.

W: But I will wash my hands this time! Please can we get Grips?

C: No Grips.

L: Mom, I TOTALLY need these markers for school.

C: You've been in school 2 1/2 days and I sent you with $50 worth of school supplies then, including markers.

L: But these are the markers I REALLY need, Mom. I'll just get them and then I'll have extra if someone doesn't have any. I'll share.

C: No markers.

The three of us proceeded this way until they fought over who gets to bag the groceries, who gets what in "their" bag, who gets to put it in the cart, etc. Our trip to get 4 items cost me $86.72. While it appears cuckoo, please keep in mind that all of L & W's words fell on top of each other. There is no "waiting for your turn to talk," when you have 2 kids with ADHD, off their meds and fully excited about the joys of grocery shopping. We nearly rammed our cart into people at least 10 times. We nearly were hit by a car in the parking lot twice. I nearly hurt someone with my bare hands countless times.

And lest you think Corona and lime were among the extras, don't kid yourself. Those were the first two items on my list of four!

CAN YOU SPELL "FAMILY FUN?"

For years my family had been trying to persuade me into ordering cable TV. My argument had been, "You people already watch too damn much TV!" Besides, all anyone needed to watch was PBS, in my opinion. So for years I went on foolishly thinking I'd dodged a bullet. Ours would not be a house where children watched all those shows where kids were sassy to their parents, lived in 5 star hotels, or under the sea with their quarrelous friends. We would be a home filled with the angelic presence of all things PBS, never the wiser to the "real world." Check, check.

While I left the room thinking their minds were being shaped by "good TV," Rojo was devising devilish plans to sabotage me. Turns out all the thousands and thousands of dollars spent on Occupational Therapy had not been in vain! While he still couldn't use a pair of scissors or a pencil, he had more agility and swiftness with a remote control than the rest of the family combined. He'd hear my feet approaching and he'd quickly switch the channel from "The Maury Povich Show" back to PBS and stare at me with an innocent, "What's the problem?" look. The problem was my then first grader, became obsessed with a game he liked to call, "You are Not the Father!" Oh yea, it was great for entertaining the grandparents and neighbors, let me tell you! Nothing like a question of paternity to shake up a party!

So I caved. I agreed that watching ESPN was better than watching the crap he was sneaking, and his obsession took on new wings and flew. He became an expert on football, and both men's and women's basketball. He knew every team's colors and mascots, the players' numbers, the final scores of any given day, you know, really useful information that will all be on a future SAT test, I'm sure. He memorized how long the quarters were for high school, college and professional. He could tell you what the score was for each game, at the end of each quarter. His memory capacity knew no bounds, and his eagerness to share this minutiae equalled it.

The one thing that came of all this that we didn't expect, is the profound, and positive, effect on his reading and spelling skills. Long about the time the ESPN addiction took hold, so did his interest in showing the captions. The boy taught himself to read. The boy many thought would never be literate, is. ESPN, I love you. Whoever invented the whole caption idea for the hearing impaired? You're a genius. I love you, too.

As is always the case, when Rojo's obsessions are in full swing, they effect every member of the family. Now, because I am "always on the computer" according to my family, I've inherited the job of "doing the captions" for Rojo. For hours a day I am his stenographer. He plays sports, I record, verbatim, what he says. There is no cheating, he checks. There are pop quizzes every 2-3 minutes. Don't think I haven't fantasized about "fake" typing or at least composing e-mails during this time. No dice, my jailor is a wrathful one.

So, because not enough has been made of how minds like his work, I've decided to share with you all the latest snippet. You're going to want to get up now, put on your glasses, get fully caffeinated and settle yourself. This is not for the weary...



"And for the starting quarterback for Washington State, the quarterback for Toronto, Hamilton University, Tigers in Canadian football. Fresno State plays for the Bulldogs, Kentucky University. Kick off back to you. At 10 tonight we go to a store that sells Barney. We’ll get a Barney tonight at 10:00 we’ll go to 2 stores to find Barney, we’ll only get one, but we’ll just look at one place, we’ll just have to do it at the second place. And drops the ball back. We played 15 minutes today, with 8 minutes left. 15 min. quarter with 8 left on the clock. Washington State with the quarterback, it’s Washington State Cougars and University of Washington Huskies, playing right now.

7:23 to go, we’re going to have another 58 minutes. First ½ with more to go. We’re going to a store tonight at 10:00, it will be a miracle. We will find him. Trust me. We will find him. Steve, back to you. They played for Boise State and Ohio State University. OSU the Bulldogs and Louisiana State and Baltimore and Kentucky and Connecticut play for the Corn Huskers at Boston Tech. Mississippi State plays for the Bulldogs. SMU Mustangs. For the state of Rutgers, Louisiana Tech plays, Tennessee plays for Texas, North Carolina plays for the Golden Mustangs. Duke, Delaware, Portland, Toronto, San Jose, Fresno State, Bulldogs, Boise State played last Tuesday, vs. Blue Bulldogs. Georgia State, Texas Tech, Mustangs, SMU, Red Raiders. SMU played for Kentucky, played for Connecticut. Then Kentucky would play for LSU, they would play Portland State, and you know, the Bulldogs would play Portland State, because PSU plays for the Bulldogs, and Gonzaga is the Bulldogs. There are a lot of Bulldogs playing in High School. Indiana plays for Utah State, and Kentucky plays for Kansas.

Flag down, that will be a penalty on Washington State – penalty call. Taylor Monday will sit on the bench. There was a penalty, Taylor Monday will go to the penalty box, then he got fouled, then he went to the bench and sat out for the rest of the game. For the rest of the game he wouldn’t be in the rest of the game. 3:15 to go in the 1st half. In the 2nd they will play 7 minutes.

Friday at 6:30, we go at 6:30, and the game starts at 7:00. You kinda go to Cleveland High School then go to the high school field, and you’ll see the high school teams playing for 12 minute quarters. The college doesn’t have a field, when you go over to Washington State College, then you’ll see a team they are playing.

2:05 to go to the half. 55 seconds left in the 1st. 30 seconds left, 29, 28… but he goes with the ball, doesn’t have it in his hands, but he does have it, and a touch down! Touch down Washington State.

That would be flag down. Ready go!

2:55 to go in the 2nd half, with a 3 minute quarter in the 2nd. 2:22 to go, and 2:18 to go.

2:05 to go, and you know, here comes the ball back to Washington State. He doesn’t get the ball, but Washington University gets the ball. That will be another flag down. Now watch that throw. You can see bouncing it off his hands. Now he’s right here and he crawls to get the ball, and he caught it! And there he goes again, and still doesn’t catch the ball. There you go, he doesn’t get it! And he tries again, and still a fumble. Now he runs it, goes past it, and 1:02 to go in the 2nd.

But he goes at the ball, 50 seconds left. 45 seconds left. Let’s count how many fumbles. 1,2,3,4… There goes the 9th fumble.

Mmmmmrrrr crrrrrr. Mmmmmmrrrr crrrrr… He goes, he shoots, he scores! Bzzzzzz Crrrrrrrr mmmmmmm

5 to 2 and he’s going to make the extra point. Final score 8 to 2!"

CELEBRATING RAGE!!!

Everytime I tell someone I can't wait to celebrate rage and am paying huge amounts of money to do so, I get "the look," the one that says, "OK, fine, whatever."

See, that's the thing, things are not OK, they are not "fine" and just shrugging my shoulders is no longer acceptable. I don't want my life to be FINE and OK, I want it to be wild, impassioned, shining, full of dance and spirit, unhibited joy and a completely unapologetic commitment to the truth.

I completed an on-line questionnaire as part of my registration process. I was able to identify, on her website, my "Disquise for Rage," and was encouraged to read her book in preparation for the workshop. Check, check, check. I did my questionnaire within minutes of receiving it, never giving it another thought. I quickly identified my disquise, then began the book. I moved through the process like I do everything, swiftly, efficiently, promptly, without a whole lot of thought or analysis, "automatically," one might say. Head down, one foot in front of the other, don't look up until you get to the end. Don't fight it, don't question it, don't make a problem for anyone, just do it with a smile on your face and and move on.

While reading the book I had more time to sift through the thoughts, beliefs, misconceptions and myths I held about rage. Ruth says there are three ways to respond to rage, fight, flight or shrink. Under each way are two disguises of rage. I am a fun mix of the two flight types, Devotion and Distraction. That is to say when faced with rage I put all my efforts on others and keep myself too busy to think/care/deal with myself.

The fight types "get in the ring" with the rage. Their disguises of rage are Dominance and Defiance. Of course, most of us are attracted to our opposites, and tend to marry/partner them, which perpetuates our disguises, and keeps us from healing/transforming them.

The shrink types are Dependence and Depression. Those types just make me crazy, I've never understood how someone can respond by not doing anything, which I've come to learn is deciding by not deciding, and a skill that might serve me well, since half of all that I do needs to be done twice, because I'm so reactive and impulsive. Perhaps if I took what is "good" about depending on others and chilling out, I'd have a smoother path. We'll all find out! I'm about to become a new woman!

Ruth King called me on Wednesday. We had a pre-appointed 1 hour phone interview. Key-rist! This woman knows her stuff. Before Wednesday's call from Ruth King, I'd almost finished her book, Healing Rage. I'd settled into a deeper understanding of myself and other significant characters in my life and their rage responses/disguises. She asked me a bunch of questions she'd pulled from my questionnaire, then after feeling satisfied with her sense of me, she assigned me an Orisha spirit. Ruth uses Yoruba, an African religious system in her work, and Orishas are the spirits, much the same way the Catholics have saints, in fact, many of the Catholic saints line up perfectly with the Orisha spirits.

Ruth "gave" me Shango, whose name is spelled a variety of ways, which of course, is hard for me. I don't do well with loose things like that. I want to know how to spell his damn name RIGHT!

According to Cultural Expressions:

Sango is the God of Thunder

Sango is King.

Just as lightning flashes to show indistinguishable landscape, Sango has the ability to show one the truth just as quickly.

Sango only speaks once and represents trial by fire.

Sango is as big as his scream giving him an ability to move people and things with his words. Sango has the "gift of gab".

Sango is the God of Male Fertility.

Sango is the master of strategy and tactics.

The spirit of Sango rises to confront and meet great challenges.

Sango is the symbol of courage.

The Truth Can Hurt! Like Fire!

Jakuta!

Syncretization
Saint Barbara

Yea, kinda like that. After deciding what I wanted to go TOWARDS, Ruth gives me this guy, who epitomizes it all, of course. There are no accidents. There are no coincidences, and there is no way anyone's going to throw cold water on my excitement for CELEBRATING RAGE! WOOHOO!

TOP 10 PROS TO INSOMNIA

10. You get all those extra hours in the day you've always wished for.

9. You have a chance to finally stare out the window and do nothing.

8. All those boxes of half eaten cereal in the cupboard? Gone!

7. Excellent way to decrease your productivity and pleasantness during the day!

6. From pacing the floors you've been able to identify which boards are the squeekiest, just in case anyone ever asks.

5. Extra time to enjoy all the night time sounds and smells your family makes!

4. Time to e-mail all your insomniac friends, and get an instant reply!

3. Hour after hour to obsess without interruption nor distraction!

2. Good opportunity to fantasize about all the nap opportunities lacking "tomorrow" which is now "today."

1. Doubles the effects of the aging process, in 1/2 the time!

TOP 10 REASONS TO START A BLOG

10. You "meet" people you'd never meet otherwise.

9. You realize how similar we all are.

8. You find out who you THOUGHT would read your blog and who actually DOES read your blog is the opposite.

7. You'll find out what all your neighbors are really thinking about you - this is both delightful and slightly disturbing.

6. You'll learn a lot about yourself.

5. You'll establish a writing practice.

4. It's fun to hear your friends preface every conversation with, "You better not blog about this!"

3. It's fun to shake things up.

2. It's fun to feel "heard."

1. It's fun to say, "I blog!"

WHAT GROWS BETWEEN THE CRACKS

She said the writing would push itself through my psyche just like a weed through the cracks in the sidewalk. One day you'd be walking upon square after perfect square of sidewalk, the next day you'd see a small burst of green that pushed and shoved its way through one of the hardest surfaces known to man. It's true. When I think all my writing ideas are dried up and gone and I am stuck on an arid field of thought, up pops an idea, or three, or five, seemingly out of nowhere. Tracy was right about that, and she was right about something else, too, all the self-distracting I was doing that I felt kept me from what I really needed to be doing, was part of the process. The process of writing is much more than what ends up on the page (or screen). There is a pre-writing stage that can be simultaneously brutal and fertile. There is all the processing that goes on in both the conscious and sub-conscious that gives way to what it is you are REALLY trying to say/write/express, to yourself, more than anyone.

When I woke up at my usual 2:00 AM this morning, I had three stories that urgently begged to be told. Seemingly disparate, my mind spent the rest of the time in bed weaving the three together, beautifully, fascinatingly, in ways my fully awake mind would not have been able to do with all its logic and reason.

I have learned more from the writing workshops Jennifer and I do, than anyone. We are all fellow journeyers, fellow students, fellow teachers on the path to greater understanding of self, story and life.

For any of you feeling the need to journey, please consider joining us in Sisters, Oregon October 5-7. Write me at: fullycaffeinated@comcast.net for more information. You do not need to "be" anything other than a woman with a story that needs/wants/begs to be processed. Who among us isn't that?

JUST THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AN X AND A Y?

MY "X":

June 20th:

"Mom. I have no clothes for school. We need to go Back-to-School shopping."

June 21 - August 23:

"Mom, I know we've gone school shopping a bunch of times. But can we go today? I babysat five minutes ago and I want to go to the mall. Please Mom? Can you take me shopping?"

While shopping:

"Mom, do you like this?"

"Does this color look good on me?"

"Do you think this matches?"

"Do you think this will look too much like everyone else? I want to be an individual"

"Mom, I only have $30 and this is $35. Will you lend me $5.00 and I promise to babysit Rojo when we get home?"

"Mom, you'll buy all my essentials and I will buy the extras, right? Accessories are essential, Mom!"

"This IS a jacket, Mom! You'll buy this because it's really a jacket, right? I know it has short, capped sleeves, but it has a HOOD, so it's like a jacket!"

"Mom, when you're done getting your coffee can we keep shopping?"

"I don't really see anything I like at this mall. Can we go to a different mall?

"Mom, what are we doing tomorrow? Can we go shopping?"

We finally leave the mall, 4 hours later with three things.


MY "Y":

"Rojo, school starts in 12 days and you have NO clothes that fit you. We need to go school shopping."

"Mom! Who cares?"

"Mom! It doesn't matter!"

"Mom, can't you just go without me?"

When finally at the ONE store I can talk him into, Target, because they have candy, not just clothes:

"Rojo? Do you like these?"

"Yes."

"Do you want blue or black?"

"Mom, who cares? Can we go look at candy now?"

"Come here and let me see if they're long enough for you."

"Mom! They're FINE! Can we go look at candy now?"

"Let me see if your shoes are too small, come here, let's measure your foot."

"Mom! My shoes are FINE! Can we go look at candy now?"

"Rojo, your shoes are NOT fine, they are size 2 and your foot measures 4 1/2! Oh my God! Are your toes curled up in those shoes? You poor thing!"

"Mom! My toes are FINE! Can we go look at candy now?"

We're in and out of Target in 10 minutes and have completely re-outfitted him.

"HOMEWARD" BOUND

Prayer flags are down. Outdoor furniture is safely tucked into the garage until spring. The bird feeders are filled to overflowing, extra water spills from the bird bath.

I am packing up. I am going "home" today. Back to the perfect house. Back to my perfect family. Handsome husband, beautiful daughter and son. Back where I "belong." Back where everyone expects me to be, wants me to be, needs me to be.

Didn't sleep a wink last night. Scratch that, must have slept a few winks, because I dreamed. Deep, dark, disturbing dreams. Dreams of being pursued, chased, hurt. Each dream requiring huge efforts on my part to escape pain, abduction, and in one case, being physically burned and scarred for life.

Eyes blurry, stomach busy producing extra bile, head so full of confusion a sense of vertigo overtakes me.

This can't be auspicious.

I close my weary eyes. Breath understanding and recognition into the parts of my body that are troubled. "There is room for this, too." "Don't judge, just be," I tell myself.

I flip through my most recent Dalai Lama quote-a-day keepers to find strength for the drive home. H.H., he never disappoints:

"To generate true love, you need to know how it differs from attachment."

"A heart full of love and compassion is the main source of inner strength, willpower, happiness, and mental tranquility."

"Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them."

That should be enough to keep me going today, anyway. One day at a time, isn't that the saying?

WHAT HAPPENED TO COLORING?

I loved school. Loved everything about school. Loved the clothes my teachers wore, their bright jumpers, turtlenecks with cute things imprinted on them. I loved their earrings, their necklaces, their coffee mugs, everything about them that said, "I'm a teacher." I can spot a teacher a mile away. My "teacher-dar" is as strong as my "gay-dar." Some teachers are a little better at throwing you off their track, they dress more fashionably, they might have the latest "it" handbag, but c'mon, they're not fooling me. Teachers, the ones that were BORN to be teachers, anyway, stick out like nurturing green thumbs.

Besides the way they typically dress, there is a warmth in their eyes, a deep patience, a knowing of the soul within each child, and a knowing of the child within each soul.

If you have someone in your life that is/was/will always be a great teacher, count yourself lucky. These people, men and women alike, that choose the teaching profession because they love children, make the world go round. A child well loved becomes an adult that is capable of great love. An adult capable of great love can do great things. Period.

At home I was anxious and worried. One shoe was off and the other was always about to fall. At school I felt warm, protected, nurtured, free to fly. Nowhere was I allowed to fly more than after lunch recess. I was lucky enough to have teachers from kindergarten through sixth grade that would sit in a chair or on a stool, after we all got back in from lunch recess. The teacher would read from a book that either she (I never had a male elementary teacher) picked, or the class voted on. While reading, we were allowed to color. I don't remember a scarcity of crayons, markers or paper. Abundance. An abundance of all the elements necessary to unlock the mind and allow deeper consciousness to be set loose.

It was at those times that I forgot all about who I was, and was completely transported by the book and the places in my imagination that were open to me.

What happened to coloring?

What happened to letting the mind wander off the page while the crayon moved in concentric circles just for the hell of it?

What happened to the little house of my youthful drawings? The one with two symmetrically placed windows to either side of the cute front door? The windows with four panes each and attractive curtains tied back with ribbon? The chimney on the right side, a swirl of grey smoke twirling upwards. The happy, smiling sunshine on the left side? A minimum of four cheerful sunrays coming straight out of the ball of sun? Two perfect clouds outlined in blue, one near the chimney, one near the sun? The tree or two beside the house? The little path leading to the front door? The green grass? The flowers growing randomly in the grass with their yellow centers and brightly colored petals? Daisies. Only daisies.

Where did that image, that illusion, that place of imagination go?

I wanted so desperately to live in that house. The house that was perfect on the outside had to be perfect on the inside, right? Only happy people could possibly live in a house that perfect.

Hmmm… yes. I chased the dream of that perfect house until I got it. I see that now. I live in that house. Perfect, symmetrical, a chimney, the trees, the green grass, the cute windows with four panes each. That is one perfect house, alright.

What happened to coloring?

What do I long to draw now?

STARBUCKS OR BUST!

I'm proud of myself. Damn proud, in fact. I have had it on my list of things to do, to get my car the FREE service for which it qualifies, that includes a lube/oil and maintenance check. Well, we all know that nothing's "free." I would have to give up my car for a chunk of a day, and while there are days on end I never use it, somehow, the thought of not having it there if I needed it set me up for a full-scale panic attack.

So, after four full months of some quality procrastination and rationalization, I made the call, scheduled the appointment, and at this very minute, People, my car is being worked on! This will sound silly. This will make no sense. This will resonate deeply, perhaps. I have HUGE "Phone Phobia." I HHHHAAAAAATTTTTEEEE talking on the phone! Once I get going it's not so bad, but the making of the phone call sets my teeth on edge. Thank the good Lord for the Internet which lets me do SO many things without having to dial a number, it's been life-saver. And, wouldn't you know it, when I finally got to the Honda dealership today, what was the first BANNER I read? "Now schedule your service appointments on-line!" Shit! Why hadn't I done that? I'd looked up the dealership on-line. I'd looked up directions TO the dealership on-line. For the love of God, why hadn't I even TRIED to schedule the appointment on-line? Next time, for SURE!

After reading the banner, I stood waiting in line to see which salesperson would help me check in. Would it be "Mike", the thin man with even thinner hair and a whiskey voice? Would it be "Wally" the one that looked horribly mis-cast in this drama? He looked like he should be a college professor, not a service coordinator. Would it be "Brandy?" with the waist-length black hair holding what looked suspiciously like a SPIRAL perm? Do they still MAKE spiral perms, and more importantly, WHY? Or, option number four, "Rod" who, like his buddy on his right, Brandy, had unfortunate hair. You know the kind, the "I'm pretending I'm a surfer, but really I'm a 50-ish man with a paunch. I think if I keep your eyes on the length, salt and pepper color and the fact that I pull back the sides and front of my hair into a ponytail, but let the rest fall mid-way down my back, you'll never suspect a thing!"

Well, Brandy it was. She was my gal. She checked me in, pointed out I'd parked my car nowhere NEAR the service entrance, and would need to move it. I handed her my keys, a stern look and a word of caution, "Brandy, Brandy, Brandy. I have NO sense of direction. I couldn't even find my car right now with a GPS! I arrived in the lot 15 minutes ago, it's taken me this long to find YOU. Would you please by a lamb and have someone bring it to wherever it needs to go? I believe it's parked somewhere in the vacinity of the Sales Department. I caught a glimpse of new cars with balloons tied to their side mirrors as I ambled over here. Don't quote me on that, though, Brandy, I'm not fully caffeinated!"

Let's just say Brandy did not find me, my humor, nor my problem in any way attention worthy. I think she could read my "I hate your hair" vibe.

After three times of asking me if I needed a ride home, and apparently not hearing "No, I'm waiting here," three times, I finally said, "Brandy. Since I'm WAITING HERE, is there a place I could, you know, WAIT?"

"Oh, I guess you need to know where to wait?" she said without actually looking at me.

"Yes, please," I managed to utter, through clenched teeth and a pasted on smile.

Brandy pointed towards the waiting room and gave me some poor directions. Ten minutes of wandering the cavernous bullshit known as ______________ Honda, I found it. .10 seconds later I was out the door. I'm sorry, what is it about me that makes you think I'm going to spend 1/2 a day in a 3'x5' room with two men, a BLARING TV and, adding insult to injury, BUNN coffee? I did the pivot and high tailed out of that place so fast it would have made your head spin.

Well equiped with a cell phone, purse, portable CD player, earphones and of course, my best friend in the world, "Mac," I started walking the streets. I may have NO sense of direction, on top of the anger management and phone phobia issues, but when it comes to finding good coffee, I do not need more than my well-trained nose.

Suffice to say I am sitting in a nearby Starbucks right this minute, good coffee, free Wi-Fi, Dar Williams drowning out all the other annoying humans in my midst. A little slice of heaven here.

_________________________

Sorry, I'm back, I just got interrupted by two non-annoying humans. The opposite of annoying, actaully, DARLING. A retired couple just back from a hike up Pilot Butte, caffing up before going wherever they are going next, together. How I LOVE seeing happily married couples! They, like so many do, had grown to look like each other. They could have been twins, except he was clearly masculine and she was very feminine, so it's fraternal twins, I guess. Little hiking boots, tanned, athletic, well-cared for bodies. Learned they are photographers, travelers, parents. Learned all this in our 3 minute conversation. You can learn so much about people before they even open their mouths, and by the time they do, it either confirms or denies your previous "hit." They nicely confirmed my hit that they were two humans well-suited to be together for life.

So, I'm here now. Fully caffeinated. Fully Wi-Fied, and fully chuckling. For years I've had a running joke with a friend that we needed coffee fed to us through an IV, giving new meaning to "Drip Coffee." Well, guess we're not the only ones that thought of that. Have a look...

This beautiful artwork is by artist, Chalita Brossett Robinson.
The subject matter of this exhibition is revealed in the title, "Walls and Windows and Wings." Ms. Robinson comments that "this work focuses on the theme of 'passage,' the struggle to learn, change, and grow through life."
She was initially motivated by Gall Sheehy's book, Passages; Clarissa Pinkola Estes' book, Women Who Run With the Wolves; the writings of Maya Angelou; and more recently, by her own personal experiences.

MORE FROM MY GURU...

WOMEN WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES
Clarissa Pinkola Estes on relationships:

“In rhythm and relationship there is a critical idea. You cannot have a mate, who attempts consciously or unconsciously to destroy your own personal rhythm. It’s not POSSIBLE with any group of creatures of animals. For one animal or another to cause the other animal to breed, to birth, out of their season, it’s just not possible. There is an order that is intrinsic, that is instinctual, and women have that order, perhaps more blatantly than men do in their menstrual cycles, in their creative cycles, in their emotional cycles. Women flow from warm, to hot, to cold, to cool. Most men do not understand these as cycles, it’s very confusing to them, they don’t understand that it’s repetitive and it happens over and over again. When a woman is allowed to be how she is, she will have a minimum of irritation, crabbiness, and he will be much happier, too. So, in the arena of relationship, if one is really going to live the archetype of the natural woman, one has to have, if one chooses a mate, one has to have a mate who has some skeletal understanding of that.”

“Relationships are a craft, not a science.”

“A relationship has to be rhythmic, it has to have lots and lots of space for being apart and being together and being sort of together and being in the same room but doing different things, it has to have lots and lots of room and lots of space, and the connection to one another comes through the soul, there’s a sameness of soul, no matter what goes on in the outer life.”

“In Jungian psychology we think that for a woman, her real mate, her true mate, is within, not without.”

“Fairy tales really need to be understood in terms of the inner masculine aspect of the female, otherwise they make no sense whatsoever. Somehow the emphasis on your relationship with other, with someone outside yourself, another human being, has to not take predominance over your relationship with yourself. Otherwise you’ll lose yourself, this will mean that the natural woman in you will be subjugated and go right back to being a captured woman, a wild woman who is now domesticated… she is a dead woman.”

“A relationship is a wonderful, wonderful thing, but NOT if it destroys, it is meant to create. The ancient idea of relationship is that two make more than one. There are two people, they become more than one and more than two, they become more than the sum of their parts and that’s what is supposed to happen.”

“Energy is generated by the relationship, rather than death.”

“One of the most destructive kinds of relationships a woman can have in one in which she is living with or married to a mate that trashes all of her ideas.”

“When a woman feels heartbroken after a conversation with her mate, it’s because she put forth a thrust of energy and it was met with nothing.”

“To be married, to have real relationship with somebody, means that they meet you in return. You put forth energy, they put forth compatible or commensurate energy.”

“Something bigger, better or different is created by the relationship that couldn’t be created separately.”

“If you choose a mate who is energetically similar to you, you’d be amazed at the things you can create.”

“Don’t be with ANYBODY who kills off your ideas either by apathy or they don’t understand them, or they refuse to understand them, or they think they’re dull, boring ideas, or they tell you they are impractical. Don’t BE with a person like that. LOVE them, if you must, but don’t BE with them. Don’t make them the centerpiece of your life.”

“Being in an abusive situation leaves you either full of rage and wanting to do harm to the person, or a cowering, domesticated, caged animal.”