The Guns and the Jade Buddha

(Repost from my first blog in honor of greeting the new year with our eyes open)

I remember the room with the toy closet. It was my father's bedroom in my grandfather's house. The desk, the electric keyboard…there were a few of my father's things he kept in his childhood room at his father's house.

There was a dresser with a number of jade sculptures including a sitting Buddha...he was smiling. This Buddha was rather large. In my memory he sat at least 18 inches tall. I liked the way the jade felt...so soft and tough at the same time. It was a curiosity to me -- what was this Buddha all about? How does Buddha fit into life? I was an avid reader and I read as much as I could find about it and surely my learning about other cultures, religions and spiritual practices began there.

I also remember the gun racks. There were two, each holding at least a dozen antique shotguns and rifles. It was hard to even look at those racks as a young child. The intention of their presence filled the whole house, not only that bedroom. The guns created the bass notes for everything I felt while being in the house: they resonated with the rhythms of cold violence. At the heart of this beating pulse was a darkness upon which the potentials of beauty, learning, and even spirituality could not be laid.

Instead there was this dichotomy; this incongruity. All still incomprehensible today.

My father was a man I never knew; one no one ever really knew...and there is no possible way to know now.

Who might he have become had he been raised by different people? As today I stand on the razor's edge, Krittika, with certainty I see -- he would have been more like me. He would have understood the darkness as a vehicle for transformation and for reaching higher good instead of using it in the ways that he chose. He would have been fully human; but he was not. He might have been knowable; but he was not. Still, I remain grateful to him for all that I am. Only because of who I am must I stand on that razor's edge. Only because I am there do I know both darkness and light.

I watch shadows play in the brilliance of the day; I squint at the brightness that creeps into the darkest of corners of the night. I remain in balance...I remain aware. I remain knowable.

I remain present.

The guns and the jade Buddha: they are in the same room.

Be ever mindful. Walk with joy.
___________

Vajrapani (artwork by Dhyana Zagri) -- Vajrapani, Guardian of the Dharma, is the Destroyer of obstacles. He is one of 3 celestial bodhisattvas or archangelic protectors. A bodhisattva is one who has chosen to reincarnate in order to show the path to Nirvana or enlightenment. Vajrapani is the holder of the Diamond Thunderbolt or Vajra (symbolizing the power of compassion) an emblem of the concentrated power of the Buddha and the Vajrayana way. He is said to be the last Buddha to appear in this world cycle, wears long snake necklace and tiger skin loin cloth, symbolizing the conquest of anger. In his hand he holds the Vajra or Dorje in Tibetan, which is the quintessential symbol of the ‘diamond vehicle’ or the Tantric Vajrayana Buddhist path.

FallOut

NEW YORK (AP) — The founder of an investment fund that lost $1.4 billion with Bernard Madoff was discovered dead Tuesday after committing suicide at his Manhattan office, marking a grim turn in a scandal that has left investors around the world in financial ruin.

Rene-Thierry Magon de la Villehuchet, 65, was found sitting at his desk at about 8 a.m. with both wrists slashed, NYPD spokesman Paul Browne said. A box cutter was found on the floor along with a bottle of sleeping pills on his desk. No suicide note was found.

Sad indeed...

Could this be any one of us? I am mindful that it can be.

Trust and Teenage "Don't Tell Mom"

"Trust what can be trusted
Offer what can be offered
Ask for what can be given
Make clear how we want to be predictable & unpredictable." twitter.com/consciousjack

I was reading Tuesday's NYTimes when I can across the article, "What to do if Patient Says, 'Don't Tell Mom,' " and thinking about my friend Samantha and issues with her 10 year old Noah when I recognized myself in the article.

At nearly 17, I nearly lost my life. The situation that precipitated the illness was one of a lack of trust. Mom didn't trust me; I didn't trust Mom. Interestingly, I was not offered an obvious place to put my trust and the doctor that saved my life was her doc and I did not feel comfortable to trust; so much so that I lost my interest in medicine as a vocation.

As I was healing, my interaction with him was tenuous at best. I was completely honest and trustworthy with information I was willing to share. I was untrusting with the unpredictability of the relationship between the doc and my mother and I did share what I could comfortably with him. He didn't trust me because he knew I was withholding information from him.

As I look back, it was the lack of clarity of the relationship we had with each other of predictable and unpredictable behavior that guided our interaction -- from my experience, it was not possible how to know when people were being predictable or unpredictable. When I trusted, I had been let down...very much so. It was impossible to know what information could be trusted or not.

Later, when I was given an opportunity to trust, I could not see it. I didn't have a clear understanding of how to trust:

"Trust what can be trusted
Offer what can be offered
Ask for what can be given
Make clear how we want to be predictable & unpredictable."

Unexpected Blessings

While talking with my Mother last night, we spent time discussing the last 5 years -- from Columbus, to Cleveland and back to Columbus.

Moving from Columbus to Cleveland with Michael being so very sick was hard. At the same time he found himself -- actually, we found ourselves -- among a group of friends who accepted him and excepted and loved him unconditionally despite his illness. He could be who he was to be nurtured and heal to the best of his ability in the company of true friends. We didn't have that in Columbus.

Moving back to Columbus was hard. I had to leave our house, my friends, my comfort zone to come back to a place that had become unknown. What I found here was new work, wonderful friends, and unconditional love. I have entered a world where people love me despite where I've been and for the difficulties I've faced. Had I stayed in Cleveland, I wouldn't have had this opportunity to heal without all of the baggage I collected while there.

It's an amazing life that buoys us all in support -- even in the darkest moments and most difficult choices in our lives.

With great gratitude for it all on this Thanksgiving...Wishing everyone a beautiful holiday season and a year where we all have the gift of offering thanks every day.

clevelandsnewstory.com

It seems to me that the new story is the same old story with the same old cheerleaders.

As an outsider who was a pseudoinsider and is now clearly an outsider looking in, I see the irony of the well-heeled flower children and the microbloggers superimposed against the impoverished and jobless.

I see alot of talking, drinking, brainstorming; I see no action.

I see the desire to be a role model, but I see no acceptance of collaboration or ideas from the outside.

Growth and strength come from walking that razor's edge; from listening to self and listening to other and creating a co-mingled reality.

Let's see if that can happen at www.clevelandsnewstory.com. Let's hope Cleveland rises to its real challenges. Many have a lingering love that would shine a light on the rebirth of that city.

NoNoNo

Today was a strange one...funny, as my friend Mary would say, "in a cartoon world.

Everyone saying, "No." "We can't." "We won't." "Ugh, no -- you surely won't."

In a world where a simple word can sometimes inspire greatness and other times dash all hopes, why lead with negatives -- why not lead with strength?

Why let "no" be the word of the day?

Why let "no" be the word of the day when we are talking about a new school...about our children? Let's work together to turn "no" into "I think we can find a way." "I believe in our talent." "I will invest in my community." "I will engage now so that I might create the brightest future."

...for us all.

My Pain is Not Yours

...nor is your pain mine.

I cannot know your sorrows; neither can I take them on.

I know that I must live life that is support of my joy, and in doing so I may be there for you even in your pain. For I can feel sadness for your pain, but I cannot take the journey that releases that pain for you. It is yours to walk.

Let me live in my joy; welcome me to join in celebration of yours.

That is there where our lives intertwine.

Passages

The first week of November

November 2008
In love, I am mesmerized by the world and embracing change

November 2007
Newly widowed, I felt the warm comfort of community

November 2004
With concern for my safety and life, I rose to the challenges of loving

November 2001
I sat in the bonds of new friendship; we, providing comfort to my uncle as he was dieing

..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--

These years have taught me much that I wish to most gently share with those who embrace the lessons.

Living

"For hope, contrary to popular belief is tantamount to resignation. And to live is to not be resigned." ~ Albert Camus

The End of Procrastination

There comes a point in time when most people move through the level of maturity knowing meeting obligations brings pleasure. There comes that point in time where maturity allows for prioritization over procrastination; where the dull fear of outcome is overcome by the simple need to release the burden of the act of completing the task.

There comes a time when you just do it and you do it well.

My time is now. It has taken only 42 years and a great deal of learning to get to the point where I have faith in myself to just do it, to take care of business, to meet my obligations (specifically to myself).

I have a tinge of envy when I meet young people who seem always to meet deadlines and who take on responsibilities seemingly beyond their years. Interesting that our different stories we had about ourselves as children must have impacted our ability to be on point, on deadline and on time. The legacy of my childhood allowed me to always show in emergency, I have learned to show up reliably for other people.

Today my story creates the structure to show up for myself.

Nahala -- One Year

One year has passed; all four seasons.

One year ago October 22nd was a balmy 80 degree day in Cleveland. Funny how Michael lost the ability to feel the temperature sometime during that summer and ran around in that same sweater (or OSU sweatshirt) regardless of how warm it was outside.

Michael lived only to make sure I was okay. He lived to make me breakfast, to keep me company, to make sure I was able to move through the pain of losing my job; to find another; to regain a sense of purpose. He said so. He was good company. At times it was joyful; at times excruciating. His life was about doing things that he felt would make me happy. He loved me dearly.

Eventually, I found a wonderful job in Washington DC with the American Chemical Society. I was to start work in early November. We were both excited for the opportunity, for the adventure, for life in a new place. He was truly excited for me. He seemed excited too, except that he'd grown increasingly uncommunicative as October progressed. He had grown tired and was experiencing some pretty severe memory loss and functionality. I was concerned for him. We talked about not taking the job. He insisted that he, in fact we, would be fine and we'd have a great time in DC.

One year ago October 22nd I was leaving the U-Street Corridor where I was visiting my apartment that I had rented -- sight unseen -- for the first year. It was an even hotter day in DC. The miles seemed to stretch longer as the drive back to Ohio proceeded with no communication from Michael. It could have been normal -- there was a dog walking, a vet appointment for Orange, teaching two classes, maybe lunch with Tom from Fairhill Center. But around 4 p.m., with no word since the going to bed the night before, remembering the eerie sound in his voice (a sound that I had never heard before) the heaviness of dread settled in. Like the time of his first suicide attempt in May 2004, I steadied myself for what might be next.

I knew what those minutes of calling 911 would be like. I knew when I found him, it would be his last emergency trip to the doctor...yes, this time would be his last. In the past four years, there had been ten emergency room visits with him psychotic and/or suicidal. This time would be his last. This time it would be a trip to the doctors at the county coroner's office. I didn't know how I would find him, where he would be, what I would do...after. But I did know how it would feel to make the call. It was too late to do anything but let him go. This was the time everything would change.

I know that in this life, there are two things: love and loss. That had become abundantly clear to me over the last few years; in the time of loving and caring for Michael. I believe that we have the great opportunity to love and the responsibility to understand the impermanence of life. Nothing we love will be the way it is forever. Everything; everyone breaks down, moves, changes, and the living do eventually die. Even lifelong friendships, loves and family ties end in death.

What I learned about life is that there are some events that are the catalyst to making everything change. What I learned about friends is that they have an astounding ability to rally around you. What I learned about myself is that it is essential that I celebrate life; that I invest fully in life and the living because life is often much too short. What I learned about my place in this world is to keep my eyes and my heart open for its infinite possibilities and beauty.

Tonight, Michael's Yartzeit (or nahala in Ladino for the Sephardic Jews like my family) I meet with Cleveland friends over dinner to celebrate the struggle of life and the continuation of love. Saturday, October 25th is Michael's birthday. That evening I will celebrate my new home with my Columbus friends. We will celebrate each other, enjoy good food, raise a toast to our joy; to Michael's joy.

I feel as though my new life is the legacy to that joy.

How am I different? Everything has changed.

What I know is simply what is now.

Bicycling in Boston

Last weekend we went to Boston for a short vacation. On Sunday, we rented bikes and tooled around the city. It was amazing how much we saw in three hours.

What was more amazing was trying to follow this maniac who refused to follow the rules of the road and waved at every human being we passed.

Even more amazing was that he never once lost his hat.

(Picture from iPhone Sketches, drawn by J/Z, "My image of what following me looked like to you.")

Yeah. He surely captured the feeling of the day. It was great fun.

Emptiness & Impermanence

Fullness.

It is the natural companion of emptiness.

It is the joy of impermanence.

Yesterday, we experienced Tibetan Monks performing the Medicine Buddha Healing Ceremony and the dismantling of the sand mandala (compassion) they created in 36 hours at Vets Memorial Convention Center.

Fullness as we live in what is now.

Emptiness as we recognize the beauty that creates our world.

Impermanence as we embrace the coolness of autumn.

Positioning Our Strengths

Strength: Merriam-Webster, noun 4b: "a strong attribute or inherent asset."

The new jargon in leadership development dances with the idea the fine leaders nurture strength; it recognizes attributes (not deficiencies) and supports the qualities inherent in developing assets.

Leaders embrace difference; they embrace diversity; they embrace change. Leaders don't tear down to build new -- they asses existing assets, imagine possibilities, engage what is different just as brick is different than mortar.

As we go into this election for our next U.S. President, I hope to see the change where our leaders are inspiring the entire country rather than tearing at the fabric of the other side.

On Self-Knowledge

Say not "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

NOW

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am not for others, what am I? And if not now, when?” Rabbi Hillel

Circle the Wagons

I am not so much one for being politic, but I have tremendous difficulty adapting when a colleague (purporting to have the same goal) continuously acts in opposition to our organizational goals; when that colleague undermines not only our actions, but the people with whom he works -- superiors and underlings alike.

But when that colleague is the second in the pair of us who are the "experts" in our combined work, it makes it even more difficult for me. It causes me to focus efforts on damage control and takes time away getting work accomplished...it has the potential to stand in the way of my ability to effectively support our team.

It undermines our agency's reputation in the field, with our colleagues, with our clients.

Sometimes it is important to stand up for the greater good at every expense. Sometimes this independence is in dissonance with what is truly in the highest good. Sometimes it is good to develop consensus and circle the wagons.

************
"He only has power if the entire group is fragmented or divided by him."~J/Z

Carnal Cannibals

Wow. (photo taken around 8:00 this a.m. in my garden)

Reminder: Stillness Needed

Voices from the garden say: Be still. Observe with intensity. Wait with patience. Decide with discernment. Move with swiftness.

In work.
In play.
In rest.

I am reminded to be with my own power, recognizing life...as it is.

Healing Paradox

Now, a budding Reiki adept, I set my focus on healing.

I find that for me as the healing energy moves along the hara line, each chakra is agitated by the healing energy, producing (perhaps releasing) what probably is my worst possible behaviour for that place.
...
February 2007

2nd chakra, splenic (sacral) chakra: governs instinct and gut feelings. Seat of vitality and many emotions.

2nd attunement, emotional body: stress, hysteria, frustration, anxiety, depression, confusion, frees emotional responses for sexual health, opens channels for greater creativity.

At that time, I put a chair through my office wall. It was for no reason, it was spontaneous and fortunately, it was just a leg through the drywall and the hole was no bigger than 3" in diameter, but I was emotional. I was angry. I was ashamed.
...
Yesterday, I had a moment...a couple of hours...that seemed to be releasing through my Reiki master attunement.

Spiritual body: 3rd chakra, solar plexus: Promotes the ability to accept without the need for control. Personal power and ego issues. Connection to akashic records.

Relaxation, stress, clarity, centering, freedon of choice, release of frustration, release fears, release need to control or manipulate, promote self-confidence, stepping into your own power.

I behaved badly. I exercised my power to, potentially, the detriment of the beauty in my life. Fortunately, my love was so kind, warm, welcoming..."I don't want you to be alone in this," he said, regarding the most painful experience of my life (and honestly, a moment of skidding on emotional black ice).
...
But, now I feel more like myself. More free, more honest, more grounded.

Perhaps that is all that it is: My power is in I AM. Healing allows the connections in my life to resonate with I AM. It allows me to humbly resonate with I AM.

I think I am becoming. I believe I am healing.

I don't know what's next...that IS okay.

Short Happy Life...

Something about the Republican Presidential Ticket got me thinking of the Hemingway short story "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber." Acclaimed for its ambiguous brutality, this story of innate violence affected me so strongly that I could no longer read Hemingway.

It simply captured the ugliest tendencies in human nature; it was beautifully written and affirmed to me that WE as a species may not be fit to survive here; it made me question modern life and all of its extravagant outrages. This story captured our tendency toward appropriating everything in our sites as though it was ours to own.

It captured the sense of entitlement that we often display that may, in the end, be our very demise.

Mrs. Palin, I implore you: Put down your gun.

We Have Responsibility

we are to care for one another

we are to have empathy

there is nothing else

What Language?

Life is about living; about freedom; about community; about honesty.

When I look at the possibilities facing us this fall, I ask myself: What language...which country?

Brazil

Argentina

Spain

France

What language would open doors of living in the land? What language would support a life that is filled with small beautiful acts of self-sustaining community? What language brings family with life, with mountains and the sea.

I no longer wish for vast platitudes, but, instead for close warmth.

Pachysandra/Stachybotrys/Pachysandra

grows in shade and relatively tough/

grows in dark wet spaces and may be dangerous/

becomes invasive and leads to confusion; to rumor and rumination/

...like this

(I got to thinking about how similar those words are while watering a few days ago. One a groundcover, one the infamous "black mold." Yeah, I probably spent too much time in 95 degree heat after a zero water summer watering shrubs).


I didn't think when I moved to Columbus I'd moved to the desert.

Kitty Bop

In these cool late summer days, I wake up early. Greeted by a foursome of playful creatures, I am reminded each morning that my presence matters; that my being present is all that matters.

No need to consider anything else, they bring me quickly to what is now.

Sunday Musings

Today is strange and typical at the same time. It's mostly like the past week, except that my sense of humor about it is miraculously restored. There were times when at my job, the lyric from the Talking Heads' Slippery People ran through my consciousness..."God help us, help us lose our minds..."

Friday night I began fielding calls/emails from Michael's family wanting...of course...money. I haven't ever heard a peep from them since he died except, twice now, to insist on me giving them money. The sense of entitlement is...well...vulgar. More slippery people.

But on the fun side, I'm planting and fertilizing my garden. I also developed a new recipe for a fun cool summer rice.

So, here you go, the description of the summer rice.

Jasmine rice, cooked with a pinch of saffron. Minced shallot and garlic; summer fruit (I used strawberries and mango), cilantro, a bit of raddichio, chopped cashews. A light sauce of tahini, mirin, rice wine vinegar, a splash of sesame oil, lemon juice, lemon zest. If you like it a bit richer, add a some yogurt or mayo. Grey salt (or sea salt); black pepper.

For lunch, I added seared shrimp with garlic and jalepeno but you could also sear tofu the same way for a hearty meal.

In Memoriam

19 years ago today, Kathy Lynn Alley was shot by an intruder in her home. Mortally wounded, Ms. Alley was able to clearly and unambiguously identify her shooter before dieing on the operating table an hour later.

I feel like I know her. I feel like I know the soul that inhabited her body.

10 months ago yesterday, my husband, her fiancee, died as a result a lengthy battle with PTSD and depression. He, who suffered decades of emotional and physical abuse from his parents and then this violent triggering event, never had a chance to experience life as many of the rest of us do.

I often feel like I never knew him...the soul that walked in that body through that life.

Today, I would want my paradoxical knowing and unknowing to somehow find their combined voice. As I light this yartzeit candle for a woman I never met, I reflect on how she has impacted my life...decades later.

My wish for myself:

That I know the strength of my soul; in the knowing and in the not knowing. That I tell the story of how we are all connected; how we are all responsible for one another...in this life.

I know my soul. Today it begins its walk for the lives that could not be.

The Berber has Eyes

Eight of them...All looking at me right now.

Some days I feel completely spent. Today is one of them. Noting yesterday's run -- no, that isn't it. I don't know what it is, but it seems like I've been this way for my entire conscious life. I'm a woman who needs rest and quiet. Not at the end of the day, but at the beginning of the day. At the beginning of this day.

So, I'm here on my king-sized platform bed listening to AnteMeridian on www.wcbe.org and I look up noticing Orange, Pauli, Higgs and Jae all in the circumference of this room...watching me. Do they sense my need for rest? Do they wonder if I am I alright? Do they have the capacity to consider their losses this year (Goldie, Poppy and, of course, Michael) and project my apparent listlessness into the future?

I don't think so. I think they're just watching so they don't miss any action.

I like to think that I'm resting so that I don't miss any action. I certainly can't project any of my experience into the future. I can just exist in what is now. I do believe that finding stillness in now is essential to my wellness.

...and the plush Berber (it's 30% vegetable oil) is almost as comfy a place to prepare for what's next as this bed.

Waay tooo looong

Funny [sic] what it sometimes takes to knock sense into me.

Last night I participated in a rather disturbing conversation regarding the loss of my job just over two years ago. Went to bed upset, awoke upset, drove upset, participated in a charrette...yeah, you got it...upset.

But the state of my mood (or maybe just the act of putting words to my frustration) seems to have had a positive effect. I did get up at 4:45 am and not dawdle out of the house. I did get to the place I needed to be. I did eat healthfully all day long. I did come home and fix a meal rather than snack. I did go for a run. I did not drink any wine (though there's still time). ; )

Snuck it in there... you read it...YES -- I DID GO FOR A RUN. A mile and a half. Outside. For the first time in over two years (and I cannot actually remember how long but at least that long) I went for a run. My firing, the back injury, the death, the move (okay, all four moves), the house, the job...the excuses.

Today for the first time in over 28 years I didn't have the steam to run 2 or more miles. I could feel my flabby gut, chin, neck, face, biceps, hamstrings jiggling down the road for a nice, slow 15 minutes. I could feel my breath out of sink, my heart beating in my chest, my aches and pains...I could see the blurriness from the early stages of my cataracts.

As I ran by people half my age...I wondered: Do they know? Do they know how old I am (not)? Do they see me move slowly, but with good form? Do they wonder how I got in such shape or do they think I'm finally starting to exercise later in life? Do they know?

Do I know?

Do I feel more like myself? Absolutely. One mile at a time.

(Gratitude for these lightly used Asics)

My GreenSpot

This past Friday I received my window sticker from the City of Columbus, designating my home as a Columbus GreenSpot. I immediately and proudly displayed the sticker on my side window where passersby can readily see it. I spent the evening working on the house and garden and was pleased to find myself finally feeling that I genuinely have a home; that it is genuinely mine. My colors, my furniture, my animals, my friends, my love. A house filled with life, love, color and beauty...

Then on Saturday, Jack and I were sitting on the back porch when my neighbor stopped over with a bag of goodies freshly picked from his garden...grapes (yes, the old-fashioned kind with seeds), tomatoes, and peaches. My neighbors are friendly, helpful and kind. It is a good place to live. When I think of neighbors, I will always remember the kindness and generosity of spirit of my Cleveland neighbors who were there for me when my husband died; who provided friendship and company in the long days of learning how to move forward into whatever would be next.

Through everything I am grateful. In so many ways, I know I have found home.

The Growl of a Predator

I've been following Leroy Sievers' blog My Cancer for over a year now. By the time I started getting the feeds, he'd outlived the prognosis of his stage four cancer for over two years. He had rallied and regained strength and the cancer had come back in strange and unpredictable ways that had limited and sometimes bizarre treatment options. Today I awoke to a rare Saturday post. I held my breath and read that he died last night.

Leroy was a journalist and had traveled to some of the most dangerous and lifeforsaken places in the world. He was adventuresome and curious; smart and boyish. I enjoyed getting to know him. He considered his work toward health a battle, and used all of the typical war metaphors describing his illness. I wish that we had better language to capture struggle against illness...perhaps it's just life, but that is a subject for another day. Today I honor his battle and that of those who loved him.

I am moved by the strength of a man who last posted two days ago and his wife Laurie who lately posted more often than he. Moved by their love, moved by their fear, moved by their courage, moved by their vulnerability, moved by their humility.

I don't know them, but through this blogosphere, feel connected. In honor of that life and of that blogosphere, I share Laurie's post from yesterday.

August 15, 2008

The Growl Of A Predator

[Laurie Singer sent us this post. Leroy is planning to be back next week].

On any normal day, this would just be a really bad thunderstorm rumbling its way across the summer sky.

But it's not a normal day and the rumbling is more like the growl of a predator stalking its prey.

Leroy's cancer is making its move.

I guess we all knew this day would come. The day when his doctor would say the medicine needs to be stronger.

The day when I would need to be stronger still.

The thunderstorm has passed, but I can still hear the growl.

-- Laurie

Design Paradigm

Working in the field of design day after day, I see two attitudes that are what I would consider the antithesis of good design:

Attitude One: We design the way we do because it is how we set our fees. We are efficient and consistent. We have designed this way for years and our clients are satisfied with our work.

Attitude Two: We design the way we do because we want recognition. We strive to be avant garde and to impress with our signature elements.

Neither attitude values the owner. Neither value reflects the community. So I ask: What new questions do we need to ask to raise the barre for our clients; Ohio's public schools? How might we begin to guide our designers to a place where they are willing to adopt a value system of form following function; of operational efficiency over design efficiency? In what ways might we assist designers in learning that their legacy is formed in the intrinsic and extrinsic value of their designs...not in the bottom line design cost; not in the lack of connection.

How do we use our position to support the new conversations of how we are stronger together?

This is how I approach every day. I approach each day with the goal of learning to be better together.

New

I'm grateful for a restful and loving weekend. It was rejuvenating...and a good preemptive measure for today's activity -- golf.

Yes, you read that. GOLF

Today, I played my first round of golf. All 18 holes with a group of guys from the office. How much practice did I have? Well, not much. I bought my clubs on August 2nd and went to the driving range that day. I'm told that I am not the "best student." A little difficult...not serious enough. I went to the driving range a week later...and today: Out with the guys.

I must be honest, I've been to the driving range twice before -- about 8 years ago. Nothing before, nothing since. That is until August.

How about that? I did well...considering. I actually did poorly, though I had an occasional good shot. I also contributed to our "success" in the scramble. I was grateful for the kindness and support of my team. I'm not really much worse for the wear either.

Except that 9 inch welt on my left shin from falling into an unmarked drain pipe near our very first tee. Hurts like you wouldn't believe. I limped a bit, but I played and quickly forgot about it.

Now that I think about it, I think I'll go nurse my injury with a bag of peas.

Long Week

One EcoCharrette, 2 days of eQUEST training, 1 LEED for Existing Buildings Technical Review, 1 meeting with design principles, 1 meeting with a school district whose design team that is obstreperously struggling with all that we ask of them. Over 500 miles driven; 55 hours of work. I haven't seen my desk since last week. In between the meetings and miles traveled, I've scheduled myself other weeks similar to this.

The question in my mind is: As things get going -- they are just starting to get busy -- will I do well? Will I find a way to enjoy the travel, provide compassionate guidance and direction to the concerned design teams and school districts, focus on my continued growth and find ways to nurture myself?

Or will I simply endure traveling, provide instructions, read white papers and recover from exhaustion?

The second option doesn't seem like much of a life, but it does reflect what most people offer themselves. It doesn't seem like a life that I would take much pride in or wish to share.

I surely hope that doesn't become me. I feel awfully tired.

Political Corrections

Today, like many other days, I crossed the path of someone who was following the money; following the prestige; following the trend.

Sad thing is, like many other people, they were following things they either didn't believe in or didn't understand.

Tomorrow, the curious thing is that, I will meet more people who don't know what they stand for; don't invest in understanding where they are; they follow the money and they follow the trends.

What is my role righting in that?

What is my role for helping that?

Am I a casual observer or do I have more responsibility than that? If I have responsibility, how do I manifest it in a way that encourages positive change.

I guess I'll bring a few pennies...just in case.

Wholeness

It is interesting the way we seek wholeness.








When we are naive, we ask "what will make me whole?" We seek our wholeness in that which is outside of us.

In truth, our wholeness is in our grasp; in our lives. We give it away, we leave it in places, we allow our new pain to reside in the place of the old...

We must revisit those places and ask the hard questions of ourselves: What must I do to create continuity? Whom must I ask to relinquish control? How can I accept life...as it is?

And yet be whole.

Imperfect

“[The grade of] ‘A’ is a possibility to live in to, not a standard to live up to.” ~ Rosamund Stone Zander

The biggest lesson I continually learn about myself is about my ability to learn and grow...more precisely and honestly I am reminded of my need to learn and grow. My work, friends, animals, family, neighbors, community, house, car...all keep reminding me: "you might be alright, and you still have a tremendous amount of learning to do."

Like my colleague Rob's HUGE puppy (85 pounds at six months) growing hurts. It exhausts me. It takes all of the energy I have; yet somehow it brings me more:

More joy; more love; more patience; more compassion.

I don't believe in grade inflation. Right now, I would grade myself about average. Average for me. I've done better; I've done worse.

That would be a 'C'.

What I like about that is it gives me tremendous room for improvement.

Aging...gracefully!?!

I had a meditation last year where, after a very long time, I saw my true self again. I looked at myself and I thought, "Yeah, this woman that was nicknamed Gaia in grad school needs to come back out and play." The hiker, the strong, natural woman.

So I decided that I wanted to let me hair go grey.

It's going. I really like it.

I feel like if I'm moving along the path of the vision and feel of that woman, I'm doing the right thing.

Two nights ago I had an eye appointment. Here I am, the widow...perimenopausal...on my period...having the love of my life...and I hear:

"Your optic nerve looks good, your retinas look great (but see me if you get any sign of detachment right away), your vitreal gel looks good...and you have the very beginnings of cataracts. The good news is that if they have to replace your lens, they can correct your vision."

And I think: How did I get 20 years older than I am. I thought I was 42...not 62.

Nonetheless, it went a long way to explaining the nightblindness in a way I can live with.

The 3 Rules

quoting j/z:

There are 3 sanity rules for any relationship. Rule #1: Only one of us gets to have drama at any point in time. Rule #2: Don’t hog the drama. Rule #3: A day of no drama is a good day for all.

There are three essentials for any relationship.

Essential #1: Empathy - Walking in the other's shoes; Essential #2: Compassion - Connecting through your heart; and Essential #3: Generosity - offering your gifts freely.

Funny thing...these three essentials always lead me to a place of gratitude; a place of joy.

Grief

sneaks up on you

a reminder of life

a connector to now

a bridge to what is next

Dieing and Rebirth

What is borne of all this?

Walking into the garden at my house in Cleveland, I see clearly what is lost. I see the waste, the lack of care, all of the signs of the love and presence that is no longer there. I see the ghosts of what he tried to give me. I feel the guilt of not being able to steward that any longer.

Did the garden die with him? Is that the metaphor for what we were?

Perhaps.

I feel the remorse of being so strong-willed that I couldn't get work here. I feel a sense of melancholy that I left. I feel my life -- split between two places; two existences that I love. I feel the sense of uneasy ambivalence that is the forbearer of change.

I am at a loss to know what is next. I feel rebirth around the corner. The intensely bright sun is burning my eyes.

Healing is, indeed, painful.

"Not Yet!"

Today is our Executive Director Mike Shoemaker's 63rd birthday. Upon wishing him happy birthday, he shared the following:

An old coot was sitting at the side of the road watching the day pass when a stranger walked by and asked, "Hey, old man, d'you live here your whole life?"

"Nope, not yet."

Hitchin' a Ride

"Troubled times, you know I can not lie
I'm off the wagon and I'm hitchin' a ride."

Funny how some of the most simple thoughts can mull around in your brain until they become more profound than they were ever meant to be...

I was listening to Green Day while driving and on came this swinging little punk rock song (swing beat, bass, swing dancing in the video). Having heard it dozens of times and enjoyed it each time, this picture came into my head:

I'm off the wagon and I'm hitchin' a ride

Yeah...I'm really thankful for those who purposefully and serendipitously either remind me of or bring me to my higher self. I have no idea what the intent of the song was other than boyish fun...but it the end, when I'm off the wagon, I do hope that I can look around me and find that ride.

1,2...1,2,3,4

Fear/Joy

For the last few days my fear has acted as an unruly barrier to my joy. I've found myself grouchy, temperamental, unpleasant, and at times even inconsolable. Only in the moments of work when my counsel has been useful have I felt any sense of my joy. Fortunately, things are very busy at work and an hour or two there buries the fear.

But it comes back...It sneaks back in the restful hours of the evening when I'm trying to plan my weekend, when I'm asking myself, "What should I do?"

I have no answers and that is scary to me. I am weighing staying and going, but neither seems like the right choice. I am not in harmony even with what I want to do...which is to stay home and ignore the whole situation. But even then, there's a part of me that believes there is no getting away...there is no hiding...there is no respite.

Not until I deal with it one-on-one, call it by its name and demand it go away.

There is too much at risk if I don't deal with my fear...but I know that my joy will wait patiently while the fear will run amok until I get it under control.

Hope

"For hope, contrary to popular belief, is tantamount to resignation. And to live is not to be resigned." Albert Camus, Summer in Algiers

I've thought a great deal about that word hope since reading that line and it resonates strongly with me. We often find ourselves sitting still and hoping for this and that rather than actively working toward change.

I have also followed Leroy Sievers' blog "My Cancer" for quite some time now. He has stage four cancer, and has been through more treatment than I believe I would have the courage to try. Today I read this:

Did it work? Did the radiation I had last week do what it was supposed to do? I don't know. I can't tell. At least, not yet.

The radiation on my brain is a long-term thing. Our goal there was to slow down any tumor growth and prevent any new problems. If there are side effects, they'd show up in about three years or so. Needless to say, not something I need to worry about.

My pelvis, and the pain there, is still the main thing I have to worry about. The hope was that the radiation would heal some of the fractures caused by the cancer, and kill some nerve cells to lessen the pain.

Honestly, I can't tell if it is working or not. I'm trying to be patient, because it was supposed to take a couple of days before any effect would be noticeable. But I still have pain there as I write this. The same? More? Less? I honestly can't tell.

I guess patience really is the key to this. Whatever improvement I get, I will be grateful for. If things stay the same as they were -- well, I haven't lost anything that way, either.

That's the way it goes in Cancer World. You take your best shot, hope for good results, and live with what happens.

I can do that.

I understand hope in the context of life and death matters; in places where we need patience, courage, and relief; where what we seek is mercy pure and simple.

In that case, hope delivers life.

Courage

"When we discover our connection with the earth, courage becomes as natural as breathing."


I read that somewhere today. I was filled with gratitude.

Looking in All the Wrong Places

I take notice each morning when leaving the house of the mating pair of cardinals in my backyard...usually low in the magnolia tree chirping at me; clearly warning me. They must have their nest in that tree.

I sit on my back porch scanning through the tree for the nest. I look each morning from the higher vantage point of my shower window for it. The tree is so dense with leaves, it's hard to see anything in there.

Then, in the early evening yesterday I was reading on the back porch and the cardinal pair was sitting on the fence behind me chirping exuberantly. I turned slowly to look at them and, as I turned, I looked right at the nest...in the rose bush that climbs the trellis over my back porch. At standing height, it is around eye level. I'm not tall enough to see in it.

When I peer out my back door quietly, I can see a little cardinal head peeping out of the nest. I note they fly away whenever I go outside; whenever I let the dogs out.

I do hope they adjust to us...this year they were here first and deserve to nurture their babies in peace.

Je te Adore

To adore, according to Merriam-Webster, means:

1 : to worship or honor as a deity or as divine 2 : to regard with loving admiration and devotion <adored his wife> 3 : to be very fond of <adores pecan pie>

Several weeks ago, an acquaintance was described as "looking for a man who adores her." This was described in detail as wanting a man who puts her up on a pedestal and treats her like a deserved princess, worships her and buys her extravagant gifts. I thought, "no, that kind of relationship would not be for me." Viewing someone as though they are beyond perfect and without fault comes with very high expectations and is bound to lead to disappointment for everyone. It's certainly not the kind of love that nurtures the soul. It's the kind of relationship that removes you from what is real; what is life. Not for me.

Then I considered that word "adore." There are many people whom I adore. I really truly adore them. There is no better word for it. I love them, admire them and, for me to adore them, they also tickle me to no end. They make my daily sense of being that much more pleasurable. I have friends, colleagues, family members, and a lover who I adore. Literally.

So, thinking of these people who I adore, people who comprise the substance of my heart, I am certainly struck with the irony of this word. Adoration comes in two varieties. In terms of the nurturing it provides, those two are worlds apart.

[missing you, Jack. Have a beautiful time in WY.]

Editing for Others

About 10 years ago I wrote my first piece for public distribution -- a technical document on the processes and tools for developing an EnergySmart School -- I developed a large editorial board that helped ensure technical credibility and to ensure that I was properly addressing the language requirements of the Federal government. The project was sponsored by the US Department of Energy's Office of Energy Efficiency and Renewable Energy and there were many restrictions on how I could use language and present benefits.

Anyway, to my surprise, many of the edits arrived with sincere apologies for the suggested changes. Yes, I painstakingly arranged the 16 81/2" x 11" pages into philosophy, technology, process, tools and using the school as a learning laboratory. Concise with text and dense with information, the booklet was geared toward school administrators to help them understand the benefits of high performance building. And I, a visual and kinesthetic learner -- I who am not often detail oriented -- needed all of the help I could get editing for content, continuity and flow.

It was only with gratitude that I received these edits. Each person's efforts made the document that much more robust, concise and a joy to hand out to others. Without those efforts, I would have never known if I was representing so many points of view well; without those efforts I would never have known whether I was actually communicating well with anyone.

To this day, it is my pleasure to have other people edit my work. It is a necessity for me. Even more so, it is an honor when I am asked to reflect on the work of others.

Appearances

Eating peacefully alone yesterday afternoon:

1)

Me: Spagio, asparagus and lobster ravioli, the NY Times, a glass of cabernet eating alone on a late Tuesday afternoon. Something brought me to thinking about my mom who frequently eats alone at Applebees eating a grilled chicken wrap, reading an historical romance, drinking chardonnay...

So similar, yet worlds apart.

2)

Four women. All dressed well in mostly white summer outfits. One without makeup, just from the gym. All drinking the same draft lager from the tap at Spagio. All excited to be there. All with the same nicely dyed blonde hair color but different styles.

Question: Would you expect they had their fingernails done?

I did.

Not one of them did. Each one's nails were short, well manicured and unpolished.

Interesting, isn't it?

Photos are Up!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/pullingdownthebranches/

Yea!

considering home

when we consider the ties of home,

we may and we may not

find the stuff that we are made of

$14,017.06

Fourteen thousand seventeen dollars and six cents...

That's the judgment (including interest and attorney fees) against me as offered by the Commonwealth of Alexandria for "breach of lease."

It's the financial cost of my decision not to move to DC; the cost of my living split in two places and not keeping up with my mail well enough to know I needed to appear in court; the cost of closing the painful business of last year. It is the last bit of unreasonable dealings with people who sink to their most base behavior when there is an opportunity to make a little cash. In the scheme of things, it's really very little cash. I know that for the rest of their lives, every time they spend a penny, the gentlemen who successfully sued me will think of me and how they took advantage of me at the lowest point of my life.

Funny thing about that cost...it feels more like freedom.

I will send that check with only gratitude.

Authenticity

This year I decided to let my hair go grey. Having colored my hair for a long time, I have been working on letting it get back to its natural color and have enjoyed it. So, my temples are white and there are silvery flecks throughout my head. Liking it very much myself, I asked Jack, "Do you like it?" He really does. When I queried him as to why, he answered that it seemed very authentic.

Funny thing about authenticity...it doesn't necessitate being natural, but it does necessitate being truthful. So, all of the years I colored my hair because it was fun were years in which I was being authentic. Now that I am ready for something different, it is also authentic. It is just that I am feeling grounded, earthy, and slightly wizened...I've earned these greys and wear them proudly.

Today I was reminded of authenticity while out buying some soap at Whole Foods. I saw a very well-dressed woman wearing a skirt suit with heels. I noticed that she was very well manicured, and yet rather homely. As I looked at her, I realized she was a male. She was striking in her authenticity.  I then remembered talking with Michael some years ago about respecting a person's choice to present themselves as they prefer -- as they feel most real -- even if it seems pure fantasy.

Authentic does not mean natural; natural does not mean authentic.

Authenticity honors truth, regardless of how impermanent that truth may be.

Importance of Discernment

I met Bob Kobet at 7 a.m. this morning for our drive to Cincinnati...Bob self-described NPR junkie and the first thing out of his mouth was, "Did you hear the news?"  It was about the current status of the democratic candidate for President.  We talked about Hillary and Barack.  I explained that I strongly, perhaps viscerally, dislike Hillary.  As I began describing my issue with her (another topic for another day) and thinking about why it was so strangely clear for me, I realized that I perceive her as infinitely selfish.  She is selfish to her own detriment.  She is selfish to the point that she lacks connection to what anyone else wants or needs.  She is selfish to the point that she has no discernment for what is in the greatest good. 

That goes for the status of our democratic nominee for President.

That goes for her relationship with her husband.

That goes for this country.

I am relieved to read that she will concede.  Our President needs to feel connected to us; to the world.  Our President needs to be able to discern what truly is for the greatest good; what is for his or her own good.

No Guarantees

"We are building the plane as we fly it."  That's what our fearless director says about the work we do.  In my case, I feel like we are building the plane as I am learning to fly (and someone else is reading me the instruction booklet on both).

As we move forward in beginning $4.1 billion in school building projects, I'm charged with the task of ensuring that our design teams meet our lofty "green building" goals.  The question always arises, 

"If we don't achieve LEED-Silver for our project, do we get paid?"  

Well, yes:  First you have to intend to meet the goal (and I have to believe your intention) and work in good faith toward achieving the goal; second, you must meet the energy performance requirements of our goal.

How we do that and whether we are successful in certification is anybody's guess because it isn't up to us.  My answer is not particularly satisfactory to an architect looking for a guarantee. We have so many buildings in various states of disrepair, quality and age that there is no prescriptive way to create protocol for guaranteed success for our design teams.   

A person's need for an absolute guarantees implies that he or she is strongly adverse to risk.  Asking for an absolute guarantee seems to be a very subtle way of saying, "I'd like to continue business as usual, even if I know I could do better."  

support

They say you need a good bra in order to "keep the girls up where they should be," to keep them from sagging down to your navel, to keep you looking young and perky for as long as possible.  Now I have nothing against youth, but sometimes I wonder about these expensive, short lived, often impractical and frequently uncomfortable torture devices.  On an average day, wearing a high-quality well-fitting bra, I will reach under my shirt to pull up my bra straps dozens of times. The material wears out quickly, which often can just mean that those girls are going on a southward road trip; however, occasionally that ever present underwire breaks and begins its slow descent into breast tissue...usually while at work and in a silk blouse.

Anyway, today I was wrapping up a shopping trip at the pet supply store...locating my purchase, my car keys...my sunglasses...where are those sunglasses? "Oh, here they are."  Between my cleavage with one earpiece neatly tucked in and secured by the center part of the underwire.

Yes, at 42 I have finally discovered the very best use of that damned underwire:

It is a secure location to hold those pesky reading glasses.  It works for sunglasses, too.

Learning

New to my job -- a new position in my organization -- everyday I am learning something that creates a new set of possibilities for my job. It is so very new that every day I have the opportunity to rewrite the story of what my job entails. This is exciting to me. As a teacher, I am leading our organization into a new paradigm of doing business and I am learning that I can rise to the challenge and do my best work everyday (although, I clearly recognize that my best is different each and every day).

One interesting aspect of my job is that I must encourage "experts" to become comfortable with the notion that expertise requires the ability to learn, adapt, and sometimes change the way they do business. Every day I see different examples of people embracing change, ignoring change, being fearful of change. I must adapt my approach to encourage them to do their best work possible.

It is my job to ensure that our staff, consultants and contractors accept life as it is, be fully present, and embrace the full realm of possibilities that lie in the very near future.

It is my job to turn "The rules keep me from doing [this]," into "Tell me what you can do." It is my job to help them rewrite their stories.

These weeks, exasperating, exhausting, intense, and unknown...

Infinitely fascinating. Infinite potential.

Good Work

I remember the day I told Dad that I was going to quit my job waiting tables to take a job working in an art gallery.  He asked, "Why would you do that when you can make more money waiting tables?"  "Because I enjoy it more."

Today was a busy and strange day at work..."herding cats" as I like to call it.  At the same time, people were very complimentary about my presence there and I feel like a valued and skilled member of our team.  I know I am doing good work -- probably the best work that my skills can bring to bear -- and I am honored to have the opportunity to do this work.

I enjoy the work; I enjoy the people.  

Dr. Jim Stith, my advisor in grad school, would say, "When you don't enjoy your work, it's time to do something else."  He was so right.   Work cannot be my whole life, but it is so important that I have purposeful joy in my work.  I feel so fortunate to have the job I have and to work with the people I do...talented, dedicated and an inspiration. 

Life as it Is

safety, food, companionship 

shelter, nourishment, love

As we travel along our road of becoming it sometimes happens that we put ourselves into frightening situations that create the fear of loss of our basic human needs. We find ourselves in situations where remedy seems illusive. We develop shelters and practices that allow us to retreat temporarily into isolated safety and comfort. "I want to go home."

As we step forward with increasing wisdom, we recognize that assuming the pain of others is not a necessary component of compassion. As we grow and begin heal from our wounds, these wounds sometimes still wisp their way into our consciousness -- even without appropriate stimuli -- creating the visceral root chakra's "fight or flight" response. When we recognize this reaction; when we name its cause; when we recognize the impermanence of even that pain; we can then take another step forward into living with life...as it is.

When we can learn to be fully present the fears from the past lose all their power. Safety, home and love then become shelters that move with us and provide nourishment for ourselves and others wherever we go.

I recognized today that some of my pained relationship with Michael was impacting my life now in a negative way. I recognized the physical reaction to flee from a situation where there was no danger. I defined the problem, noted the source and released that pain from my unconsciousness. I developed clarity on another facet of what it means to be present.

I feel greater compassion for where I am today and for everyone in my life.

I recognize my increasing ability to love.

unpacking

bumped and bruised, fingernails broken, spirits high...

We are in our new home...beautiful garden, peaceful space.  Feels like home for the first time in a long time.  I do feel safe and loved here; protective and loving...a small little sanctuary I look forward to spending wonderful times with friends and family.

I am grateful for all of the love, support and kindness that brought me here.

packing

I've been packing since mid-October.  It started with the move to DC and has continued at a steady pace. I've unpacked, recycled, purged, burned, donated, bagged, boxed and bundled...and started the cycle over again.  

Tonight I'm packing for the movers tomorrow.  The animals are a freaked out.  They don't have the capacity to know that this is all okay.  We're all feeling a bit unsettled.  I'm feeling a bit tired.  

This move, however, will give me a place to putter.  I do look forward to a rest from packing. 

my home

activities of the last days linger in surprising places keeping the faith

the fading urea from the paint

the earthiness of the love here and there

the colors, tastes, and sounds

I anticipate the completion of my new home with patient gratitude

Impressions

This morning it was really chilly when I went in to work. I was wishing I had worn a pair of gloves...which got me thinking about gloves in general. My dog walking gloves are all a casual comfortable knit or thinsulate; my dress gloves are leather with cashmere lining. Gloves, like shoes, say alot about the person who wears them.

About 10 years ago, I was teaching at Ohio State. Pleasant to everyone, I knew all of the staff who worked daily in the physics department. I was unaware of my loss, but one winter afternoon our custodian chased me down while I was on my way to teaching and said, "Miss, I found this glove and it looks like something you would wear." Dark green leather...it was mine. It must have fallen out of my pocket earlier that morning. There was something in our interaction that he simply knew it was mine.

Given the events in my last couple of years, good and bad, I am honored that people can identify my gloves. I am glad to be seen as I am...whatever that means.

I hope I return the favor to those around me.

Life's Beauty

We have this beauty and imperfection of our lives...let's celebrate our quiet beauty.

today I am still disconnected

to the face that I saw in the clouds, yeah

and the closest I get to contentment

is when all the barriers come down

LearningSharingWorkingLearning

This evening I received a request to respond to this article about learning mathematics that will appear in the Cleveland Plain Dealer.  (It doesn't look like a link that's long-lived, so you have my apologies up front, but the gist is: we're falling behind; not doing a good job in the way we teach math). 

My reaction:  If we want to develop a national aesthetic that understands and respects the scientific/mathematical/technical arts, we need:

• a sense of curiosity
• a respect for practice
• a learned mentor
• a community who values the output

Funny how those are the very same characteristics that support the arts, value the trades, employ skilled craftsmen.

We've lost our way.

It's my contention that if aesthetics were 9/10 of the law, this would be a much kinder, gentler, more beautiful world in which to spend our days. 

The Road Not Taken

Happy Mother's Day, All.

At the age of 42, I am often asked, "so, why did you decide not to have any children?" It's a big question. One of the biggest.

Given the last few years of my life, I am glad that I had no children to feel the impacts of Michael's illness. At the same time, I recognize, that had I had children, there would have been no relationship with Michael. He wouldn't have had it; I wouldn't have had it. It wouldn't have been a safe or good choice for nurturing a child.

It's not that I haven't had the opportunity to have children. I've wrestled with that decision in the past, and decided against childbearing for me. There was something more important for my soul driving me down that road...something I needed to learn that I wouldn't learn with children.

Still, I come back to this thought: How much different would my choices have been if there were consequences to someone other than me? How much more gentle would have been my path? How much more would I have stayed out of trouble? How many rules would I have learned to follow?

I think of my own mother. She was married to a brutal, violent man -- David, my father. Visit my essay "The Guns and the Jade Buddha," if you'd like to learn more about my childhood with David. It was okay for her to be brutalized, but when she saw him commit violence against my brother, she left the marriage...at great threatened risk to her safety and ours. But the risk of being raised in violence was much more frightening to her.

So, on this Mother's Day, I think about my own mother. I think about my family. I think about my relation in the world.

I wonder: Who would I have been had I made a different choice?

I know that as I'm in this process of becoming, it will be clearer and clearer to me that everything is as it should be.

Happy Mother's Day to all who visit this space. Celebrate the strength of your mothers, of your fathers, of your family, of your presence.

Sketching Life

[I can't post without saying, HAPPY 35th BIRTHDAY, PAMELA!!]

Upon my morning arrivals at One Columbus, I am greeted by the regular people...our security staff, Rhonda our "client service coordinator," and Tim, the greeter for USBank whose doors open into the lobby of our building. Tim is a smiling older gentleman whose job it is to greet everyone that walks in the doors, to know people's names and make them feel welcome. My name comes easy to him as it is his daughter's name, too...and he is awfully proud of her.

As it turns out, Tim is something of a renowned artist...the medium: "Etch-A-Sketch." His etches are often on display in the Starbucks that is across the lobby from his bank post. I must say, that they are incredible. The drawings would be good in pencil. I remember as a kid how proud I would be if I could make a closed circle on the pad -- let alone detailed drawings of things. I liked playing with the Etch-A-Sketch. It was for me like I game I could not ever win...but one that was intriguing.

One of the beauties of this world is that you never know who you'll meet...you never know how you will be impacted by someone who is, at first, a mere stranger. When I walk through the door, he beams at me because I remind him of his daughter. I always smile in response to his joy.

Yesterday, or the day before, I went down to the lobby to grab an espresso. Tim looked at me and said, "You always look so peaceful, happy and serene."

On that hard day, I was grateful for the kindness of a stranger; but a member of the fabric of my present day. It reinforced everything all of those people who know and love me have been telling me. It reinforced my support system.

Thank you Tim. I, like you, vow to bring joy to one person each morning. Everyday, unknowingly, you remind me of that.
____________

PostScript: "Starbucks Lattes now for sale for $0.23," was written on a 4"x6" Etch-A-Sketch Tim showed me on my way out today. I said, "Tim, you're going to make some trouble." He winked.

Celebrating Life's Changes

Tonight was a reminder of change as one of life's great constants. I went to an event hosted by Clean Fuels Ohio celebrating their new office space. I've known Sam, the executive director of the organization, since I started working in the energy field. I was one of the founding board members when the organization left the umbrella of the City. Smart, careful and savvy, I was always impressed with his courage. Also there was Mary, the first person I hired while working at Ohio Energy Project. Energetic, brilliant and young, Mary had a maturity that made her a a pleasure to work with. She was there with her daughter...just a few months old. I haven't seen Mary in a couple of years, although we've been in constant contact.

I have known them both for nearly 10 years.

She said after the hugs, "you look exactly the same." I do, mostly, but there are many changes. I looked at her, and aside from the new baby, she looked the same as I remembered...now, in her mid-30s. And Sam -- his first baby was born after we met...now nearly 10 years old. He still looks the same, except now he and his wife Betsy are wonderful parents with great boys.

I look at us all. All the same. All completely different. All becoming amazing human beings in manifesting our potential. All being exactly who we always knew we could be. All changed. All creating stories with futures of infinite possibility.

I am so proud of us all.

Building Towers

Higgs has taken to long sessions of moving litter around in her catbox. Most remarkably, she finds 4:00 a.m. to be the perfect time to be midway through an hour long sculpting session. It's difficult to say exactly what she's doing or what appeals to her at that time of day.

After a long weekend in Cleveland, I come home to find -- she's scooting all of the pee covered litter to the center of the box -- she's building a mound of sorts.

We thought she was spelling. Perhaps she's building her Tower of Babel.

Receiving/Listening

Yesterday I began the process of closing Michael's estate. It was a deeply sad reflection on loss and tragedy; about his inability to receive love or gifts. In my own way, I was experiencing the same thing as I became overwhelmed with the sense of sadness for the violence; for the loss of life. There was a period in the day yesterday afternoon where I went back to that moment that I opened the garage door fully knowing, saw him slumped over in the car, pounded on the roof of that car yelling at him for what he had done, fell to my knees on the floor of my house sobbing and screaming while on hold with 911, walked outside to find the house surrounded by friends and neighbors.

The 911 operator asked me to give him CPR. No, he's been dead for hours. No, this is the sixth suicide attempt in three years. No, he wanted to die. He was dead. He needed to be dead.

They say that it is impossible to love if you can't first love yourself. I'm not so sure that is true. Yes, Michael could love. His tragedy was that he could or would not fully receive love.

I've spent the last 6 months wrestling with a feeling of unfairness that I received the estate through such tragedy. I've spent my childhood having things, money, school, and even love threatened and taken away. I've developed a hard core around receiving in order to not be hurt by the giver. I do give with great generosity; but I am in the process of learning how to receive.

But these are the years of my so-called "midlifecrisis" -- for my kundalini rising. These are the years to find relief from that fear of loss. These are the years of developing groundedness and moving from being a martyr without a cause to a champion for a cause. These are the years where I learn to discern between what is right for me and what my impulses would tell me is right for me. These are the years where I am coming into my true self and healing from the wounds of the past. These are the years of rewriting my story.

Last night, in the midst of great sadness and a strong desire to retreat to a place of 'safety' and isolation, Jack broke through. I realized the love that was there and I, probably for the first time in my life, received comfort in being in that place. This morning I've been reflecting on the importance of receiving gifts. The gifts of security that Michael gave me are what he wanted me to have. That is why he insisted on marrying me -- because he wanted to take care of me and his money provided him his only sense of self-worth. The gift of love is what Jack was offering me; it is the gift he was working so hard to find a way for me to receive.

The experience of being heard; of being received...these are the things that allow us to know that we are connected. These are the things that allow us to feel grounded. Being open to hearing and receiving gifts is how we let people know meaningful the they are to us. These are the things that allow us to share our gratitude.

In that way, receiving is like listening; giving like talking.

Owning our Reality

We are where we are because we have allowed it to be possible.

I experience those people who a mired in anger and self-pity. These are people who cannot see their role in creating pain; they can sense any other reality for themselves. They grasp at the energy and lives of those who seem to have more. They may even look at violence and destruction as a means to improve their situation. In the short run, they may find satisfaction; in the long run, their reality remains the same -- one of pain.

I also experience those people who walk smiling and with peace. These are people who own their reality; they work to overcome the inertia of their pain body. They share energy and love. These people work through pain and obstacles and take responsibility for making changes. They continuously shine the light through work and home that illuminates the path for the rest of us should we choose to walk it. They are in harmony with the moment, opening the door to a future of infinite possibility -- one of great joy.

muddling

On the self-proclaimed, "we think and we plan, but we don't do" side of my office, the best word I can come up with to describe the thinking and planning process is ...

...muddling...

but, I look up the definition of muddling in Merriam Webster and it gives no credit to those who muddle:

transitive verb 1 : to make turbid or muddy 2 : to befog or stupefy especially with liquor 3 : to mix confusedly 4 : to make a mess of : bungle

To those of us who cook -- we sometime muddle spices -- muddling does have its benefits.

The thing is what we do; what we do best; what brings us joy...is essentially important.

Muddling is a beautiful part of that.

The Function of Dream Sleep

For the first time since I can remember, I've been having vivid dreams. They've been all over the place...easy, hard, realistic, surreal...not particularly comprehensible or anything I've been able to remember for more than a couple of minutes.

I recognize their return as a mark of healing achieved and the harbinger of inner peace as I learn to look into my new waking dream.

...better get out a good pen and my dream notebook...I've got some work to do.

The Four Agreements

"If it was about us, it would be different." ~ Jack/Zen, April 26, 2008

In a poignantly concise way, Jack/Zen summarizes the intent of Ruiz' Four Agreements. In honor of our shared yet independent healing, I repost the text of these below:

BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

DON'T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

DON'T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS. Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST. Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.

...if it was about us, it would indeed be different.

Milestone

A milestone of sorts...noted while traveling along the road between Columbus and Cincinnati.

My dear friend Jack often talks about the concept of "pain body" (in contrast to "joy body"). It is a concept that resonates deeply with me, particularly with the life and death of Michael. And as I was driving those frequently traveled miles, April 25th, on a gorgeous spring day, I noted it had been six months.

Six months since I released Michael finally from that pain body that eventually took his life. Six months since my mother, my uncle and I, along with Paul the funeral director, went to the crematory and watched the shell of Michael's former existence enter the furnace. Six months since the pain body was incinerated. Six months  and a day since his last birthday.

Yes, Michael was cremated on his birthday.

It was the last birthday gift I had the honor to give him.

Welcome

It has been a while since my last post. I've had alot of trouble figuring out a name; a theme; a title...and then last night I was listening to Cake while driving and heard the line "the ornaments are pretty, but they're pulling down the branches of the tree," and it struck a chord.

We live our lives superimposing our need for beauty and wealth over that for health.

My hope would be in this blog we can talk about life as it is and find our own paths to great joy.

Namaste