Quicksand

Where am I? What's my name? And how do you pronounce it? What year is it? What season? Why is it warm in February? What am I doing? What am I supposed to be doing? I've barely blogged this past year. I created this in part to help me stay motivated, track my journey toward more authenticity, toward more truth, toward more expression, more humility, more connection to myself and others. To share myself. In all my imperfections. Unabashedly. Courageously. And I find myself sitting here in a beautiful place, barely able to enjoy the warmth in the middle of what would normally be winter for me. Ice storms back 'home'. Ice storms in my heart. What's holding me back? I ask myself again and again. Where's the ground? Why is it that I barely pick up my guitar? What am I afraid of? There's an open mic tomorrow night. Will I make it? Or will I hide some more. Seeking the security of not trying over the risk of failure. 'I'm not ready.' I say. And then I don't get ready. Transition gives rise to old demons. Old habits of body and mind.

In school, I'd been too busy to blog. Too busy to connect to self. Too busy to work on my own songs. Now I have time stretching before me and I don't blog. I barely write. New soil. New possibilities. New realities. A man who loves and support me. I try to support myself. So many tools in my toolbox. Many are dull. Are all the tools equally effective? I carefully choose the appropriate knife in the kitchen depending on if I am slicing bread, chopping onions, slicing a lemon in half. Which tool to scrape off the layers of fear and doubt? To cut through the stories keeping me small, constricted. To pull me out of the quicksand of indecision, of overwhelm. I make little motions toward this branch or that, but can't seem to get a good enough grasp to pull myself completely out.

I'm on Day 6 of the Master Cleanse. Clearing my body. Maybe it will help clear my mind.

What to do? What to do? Meditate. Check. Email Mom. Check. What next? Read? Run? The Work of Byron Katie? Morning Pages of the Artists' Way? The new/old house still has corners longing to be free of dust. The garden begs for attention. The clean dishes await return to their place in the world. What's my place in the world? So many interests, ideas of how I can be helpful. I've dabbled in so many things. Will I keep dabbling? I long to wholeheartedly throw myself one hundred and ten percent into....what? Priesthood? Sustainability? Music? NVC Trainer certificaiton? The Work facilitation training? Conservation work? I long to fully express my love and concern for what in this life I hold dear. To have my life express my values. To have all the pieces in my life come together into a beautiful whole.

Whole. Happy and whole. That's what I wished for everyone this morning in my metta prayer. May I be happy and whole. May my family be happy and whole. May my partner be happy and whole. May my friends be happy and whole. May my teachers be happy and whole. May my former students be happy and whole. May my former coworkers be happy and whole. May my neighbors be happy and whole. May my acquaintances be happy and whole. May my strangers be happy and whole. May world social, military, political, and spiritual leaders be happy and whole. May all the soldiers on all sides be happy and whole. May all those who I've had ill-will towards and those that have had ill-will towards me: may we drop all the bullshit and just love each other. Amen.

And if it is in the highest interest of all beings, may my guitar find its way into my hands long enough for me to settle. To settle into this new place. To settle into myself.

a.m.

good morning,

beautiful children of the Universe,

dawning anew, each of us, this day,

may the petals of our hearts blossom fully and fragrantly,

may our lungs fill with the promise of this new day,

and empty with gratitude for the gifts that keep showing up on our doorstep,

unexpectedly, arriving just when we need them in the perfect size, shape and color,

may we continue to be amazed at the way we show up to our lives seemingly unprepared,

the Universe making its requests and we say '-- i can't -- i don't know how -- i've got nothing to offer--i'm not ready --',

and then in an instant, vulnerable, our hearts burst open and treasures come tumbling out, sparkling and gleaming,

dazzling the Universe, which then laughs joyously and knowingly,

bursting into technicolor radiance, extending its hand, inviting us to join the dancing and singing.......

skype

longing for a chunk of time to connect with you,

to laugh with you,

to share with you,

to clear up the mystery of the missed texts with you,

to discuss concepts in the book that we're both reading,

i long to call you 'Baby',

to smile at you,

to stick my tongue out at you,

to carry you around the house talking to you as if you were here,

to conduct my cooking show live for an audience of one,

i long to sit with you in silence,

staring at the little green dot,

tears forming after hours of 'this and that' as the clock approaches my midnight and your midday,

caressing my keyboard,

touching your face on the screen,

defying the story that distance is the product of rate and time,

dreading the click - but one of us has to do it -

quick, do it now!,

'I love you, Ba---.'

Sweet Dreams

I noticed my arms rise up and I embraced myself as You.... so gently and sweetly in waves of caresses along my body and I breathed in deeply, a half smile forming on my face. I sit now with hand on my beating heart, eyes closed, sending you thousands of delicate little kisses that will slowly descend upon you in slumber, gently so as to not wake you, but upon waking, you will feel their caresses, continuously whispering their insistent message with each feathery kiss......

....you are loved.....you are loved....you are loved....you are loved....you are loved....you are loved....you are loved....you are loved.....you are loved....you are loved....

A jackal opens its mouth and before the word of resistance can be spoken, it is met with a kiss so delicate yet so passionate that its body yields, melting into bliss and with tears in its eyes, asks '...really?...truly?,,,,' and the kisses just keep coming in and he surrenders, laughing and says sheepishly 'okay...i am loved' and opens to the embrace, letting it sink in deeply and completely...

...i am loved...i am loved...i am loved....i am loved....i am loved...i am loved...i am loved....i am loved.....

may this be your mantra today, baby.....

Note: I feel excited about a handout by Doro Kiley, Professional Life Coach, that contains a definition of jackal versus giraffe language used in Nonviolent Communication (NVC) created by Marshall Rosenberg and referenced to above. Check it out:)

Smiling in Sante Fe

I woke up this morning and had no idea where I was. For a few seconds, I looked around in the semi-darkness and a few scenarios popped into my head jolting me around in space and time before I remembered I was in Sante Fe visiting friends I knew from my time in Moab, Utah.

Good friends. The kind of friends that no matter how long it's been since you've seen or spoken, there's no awkwardness and time takes on a funny quality as in 'Wow. How could you have done all that in the time since we last saw each other when it feels in this moment like it was just last week when Nat did that double pitch climb and Adam and co. hosted that 'roll your own sushi' party and then we were all laughing at that music festival when I bought a turkey leg and grease was dripping down my chin and one of y'all said 'Isn't this the girl who's about to go live on a vegetarian Buddhist lettuce farm?!?!?!?!?'

I sit here in amazement too because I had no idea Nat and Adam were back in the states. Last I heard, Nat was getting her Master's back in her homeland of Canada. When I arrived in Alburquerque a week and a half ago, I posted it on Facebook and Nat saw it and told me that they were in Sante Fe which is superclose to ABQ. I emailed back, thinking they were on vacation, saying I hope they are still there when I finish my training. It turns out that they live here and so after wrapping up in ABQ yesterday afternoon, headed up here and I feel so happy to reconnect with them.

I have felt quite disconnected from my friends and from community down in coastal Texas though it has been great to reconnect with my family. I went back last year thinking I would stay for a few weeks, maybe a few months to help my Mom rebuild her life after enduring Hurricane Ike and then head back west. I have chosen to stay to continue being helpful and to study music and will be going back for school in the fall.

This summer, though....this summer is a gift to myself of reconnecting with friends, with nature and with myself through songwriting and by continuing to explore how I can be helpful in the world. I'm driving and so I have flexibility to take advantage of opportunities that open up and to move at my own pace, receiving the gifts of the universe instead of rushing off to the next thing I have to do. I feel really grateful for that plan because I had originally booked my whole entire summer up with trainings and retreats with little time for friends or for myself. The new improved plan is a combination of both. And so, it is with much joy that I receive this unexpected gift of reconnecting with Nat and Adam. They are going out of town for the weekend and are gifting me the use of their studio where I plan to play with music and catch my breath from the intensity of the last few weeks (more later). Perfect, perfect, perfect.

About an hour ago, I had wanted to go for a run, move my body, breathe in the morning air and Nat told me about a trail that runs along the railroad track. I was supposed to take a left down this pedestrian alley a few houses down and then take a right and continue straight through some houses to the track. I became confused and couldn't find the track and thought maybe I would just jog around the neighborhood. I backtracked, tried to find the second alleyway again, wondering if anyone was home where I could knock on the door and ask and then I saw an older gentleman standing in his driveway. He was visiting too, but used to live here and pointed out the path to me. I gave him a hug and continued on. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

The alleyway popped out onto a paved track adjacent to the railroad bordered by plants and trees. I stretched, started the timer on my watch and took off, listening to the playlist on my Ipod I call 'Girlfriend'. It includes Alanis Morissette's '21 Things I Want in a Lover', 'Respect' by Pink, Indigo Girl's 'Closer to Fine', Lyle Lovett's 'Aint It Somethin', John Michael Montgomery's 'Life's A Dance' and India Arie's 'Private Party'. When the path came up to a road, I danced on the sidewalk until the way was clear and I smiled at everyone I came across: solo cyclists, cyclists with kids in those cute little carriers, joggers with cute little puppy dogs. I 'Hi-Five'd' the branches of trees reaching toward me.

As I prepared to turn around to head back, I suddenlty felt afraid as I realized I had not turned around and taken a look at where I had popped out from my friends' neighborhood onto this track. 'What if I run right past it?', I thought with a little bit of alarm. I strategized that I could run back for the same amount of time I had run to this point and I should be close. My experience is that usually it takes less time to get back than it did to get to the turnaround point so I was still feeling a bit concerned. I don't know this town well at all. And I kept running and smiling at people and then all of sudden, a woman popped out from the left ten feet in front of me. I stopped short in awe of the grace of the universe and had to manouever to not get run over by a family of bicycles. I tried to talk to the woman to express my amazement at her timing, but she just kept on walking oblivious to my experience or maybe aware that I looked a bit crazed in that moment.

Ain't it somethin' how the way things go? Perfect, perfect, perfect:)

Bon matin, mon cherie!

I woke up in a luscious bed feeling fabulous still rendevous-ing avec moi in the hill country in springtime without feeling lack of any kind (see previous post Rendevous Romantique Pour Un). Birds were singing, the sun was hiding behind the clouds and it was cool and misty.

I walked downstairs and ate a croissant. Memories of croissant aux almondes in Paris. I loved Paris. So romantic. One of the reasons I picked this room was that it had a balcony off the bedroom with a table and chairs. I love to picnic and eat at cafes with outdoor seating.

I hadn't had a chance to check out the grounds yesterday so that was my morning plan.

I strapped on my guitar and wandered around to the strains of Opus 6, No. 1 by Fernando Sor and 14 Minietudes by J. Maurice Mourat. There were two greenhouses and this solarium with a water feature and koi.

There were numerous waterfalls and plants.

Only a very few mosquitoes out, not enough to dampen my spirit.

There's a saying that goes something like this: when you wake up in the morning alone with over half a bottle of champagne left over because the person you were going to share it with has just fallen in love with another, make a mimosa!

And so I did and had a lovely breakfast on my balcony serenaded by birds with the waterfalls gently murmuring 'you are loved, you are loved' in the background. I was really enjoying the lack of gadgetry. No roll out of bed and check facebook ritual this morning. No email or phone call to return. I was delightfully out of cell range. I was on the range. Home on the range.

I showered and then packed up singing, alternating between Amarilli, mia bella by Caccini and Danza, danza fancuilla gentile by Durante accompanied by my computer and speakers. I did have electricity here. I belted out the last melismatic phrase of Amarilli standing on the bumper of my truck and then swung in and headed to the main compound with the lake. Enchanted Lake.

They were preparing for a wedding. I moseyed over and found a table and chair and put my feet up. I shared some words with one of the workers and he generously offered to go find some oars so I could take a spin on the lake.

I accepted the offer and grabbed my guitar, rolled up my jeans and paddled out.

I proceeded to serenade the setup crew and a lone fisherman before heading back home. To home on the coastal plain.

Though not what I had originally envisioned, it was perfect just the same. I felt free. I had forgotten the magical feeling of being on the road, visiting new places, meeting new people - the feeling of anything-is-possible, of no rush, of everything falling into place just the way it is supposed to. I took a photograph in college once in Big Bend National Park of my feet in front of the desertscape and it was titled 'With, Not By,' meaning 'with myself, but not by myself.' It's a subtle difference, one where instead of empty, I feel full and present. Comfortable in my skin.

May we all feel fully embodied, full of love with nothing lacking and nothing needing to change. Big Texas-sized hugs to all y'all!!

Rendevous Romantique Pour Un

While I saute some garlic, and listen to Dido and Norah Jones, let me fill you in on my day… Nine and three quarter hours earlier…

I thought an oil change would be good since I’m 1500 miles overdue and heading toward the hill country after class. Going to see some bluebonnets and hang out with my guitar. Alone. Wasn’t planned that way. Bought a groupon for a romantic getaway complete with champagne and chocolate covered strawberries with my new sweetie in mind: poet and seeker, Michael, who I met on New Year’s Eve. Our new relationship has had some twists and turns and this was the second time I was planning the getaway. Thought it would work out this time. Yes, man plans and God laughs, as the saying goes. We found a time that would work for us both, I booked it, and then he fell head over heels for another with no time left for me to get a refund. The owner, Carol, suggested I invite a girlfriend, but I thought it might be good to just take my best friend, my guitar – the one I bought on layaway when I was nineteen – who’s seen me through a divorce and several post-divorce breakups.

I had a voice lesson at 2 pm so I practiced for an hour and then went to change the oil before school, but when I started the car, it sounded terrible. It’s been running rough for a few weeks now. I popped the hood and my battery was knocking into the engine. My car wouldn’t start last week so I took out the battery and had it checked out. Turns out it was still good, but I needed to clean the terminals and connections. I couldn’t get it to fit in again just right. It’s smaller than the original battery. So now I’ve got a couple of problems and I’m supposed to be going out of town so I don’t end up wasting my romantic reservation at Blisswood, the hill country B&B. Now, I don’t have time before class so I clunk my way over to school, have a fabulous lesson with April, my fabulous teacher, and head into town to find a mechanic.

I hadn’t found a local mechanic or oil change establishment yet. I moved here last July and had been going back to Galveston each time and was planning to do that today but now time was running short so I headed into my new town to see what I could find. I saw a Jiffy Lube and headed in. When a woman approached, I asked her if she knew of a family owned place because I hate chains and also something was wrong with my car. She was very helpful and steered me toward a local gas station that did oil changes and had real mechanics. I thanked her and headed over. The mechanic that greeted me reminded of my Dad. Dad had been a quiet, no nonsense military man, a ship’s mechanic. This gentleman, Bill, listened to my complaints and said, ‘Let’s start with the oil change and go from there.’ I felt in good hands.

I grabbed my guitar and my travel chair and commenced to practice my classical guitar pieces for class. I had recently attended a Master Guitar class with Philip Hii and was very motivated to practice when I could. Lots of people stopped by to chat. I was asked if I knew some Eagles covers, if I was trying to be Janis Joplin, a fellow Texan, and if I knew that Barry White had been from Galveston. Bill returned to tell me my alternator was on the fritz, but he could get me a new one within the half hour. ‘Let’s do it,’ I replied, only grimacing slightly at the $350 price tag. What could I do? More time to practice.

I called the proprietor of the B&B and informed her my car was in the shop and it’s possible I might not make it after all. I wasn’t all that stoked anyway to go solo to the Oasis, which is the part of the property my lodging would be in.

Before I knew it, the truck was purring like a kitten before me and I headed home to pack. I made a peanut sauce, packed some greens from a farmer friend and some garlic. Threw a change of clothes in a bag, hugged Mom and got on the road. 5:30 pm. I might just make it before dark.

I started off singing one of my tunes. Then I listened to Democracy Now with Amy Goodman. Then I turned on a party mix a friend of mine, Adam, gave me when I lived in the desert. It was rockin’ when I approached, fields of bluebonnets in view as the sun was setting.

After having a little trouble finding the right room, I entered Harriet’s House which is really just part of a house. The first thing I did was look around for the champagne and chocolates. They were nowhere to be found. Nor was the continental breakfast for tomorrow. Not only did I not have the romantic partner, I didn’t even have chocolate. This would have to be remedied. Without even bringing in my things, I headed back to town to find Carol. I was a bit upset.

Carol runs a fine dining establishment in the teeny town of Cat Spring. I walked in and a woman I assumed was Carol was on the phone. I looked around. It was a darling place. Rustic. Antlers and white linens. When she was finished with her phone call, I asked if she was Carol and then with difficulty I said there must be some misunderstanding because there wasn’t any chocolate or champagne and now I have to go into the bigger town…. She cut me off and said, ‘Oh, let me get some for you right now.’ ‘Okay,’ I said in mid-upsetedness and as she walked to the kitchen, I thought, ‘Okay, everything is going to be okay.’ She returned and told her I liked her place and I appreciated she served local wines. Then I touched her arm and told her I was sorry I was so upset, but the lack of chocolate reminded me of my lack of a boyfriend. She had forgotten the email I had sent. She then gave my teary self a hug and asked if I’d like a glass of wine. I accepted. 'You really loved him, huh?' she asked. 'Well, no,' I said. 'I mean I loved him, but, ya know how every breakup reminds you of all your other breakups?...like my divorce...' She nodded empathetically.

We spoke a little more and I told her I was turning the evening into a personal musical retreat. Then she remembered my mentioning it in the email and said I have to meet her friend. She steered me over to G. Marie who is a songwriter. I then happily chatted about music with her and her husband (?) and friend until Carol returned with a box with flowers protruding from it. I said goodbye to my new aquaintances. Carol followed me to the car with the box. I told her I hoped to stay up with my guitar ‘til three in the morning like I used to do when I lived in the desert. I put the box in the car and gave her a hug. ‘You’re wonderful,’ she said as we both laughed. As I drove away, I thought it had been perfect that the champagne and chocolate covered strawberries had been missing because otherwise I would not have met her and she’s a quite lovely woman. It was comforting to connect in my vulnerability instead of isolating which I usually do.

So now I’m in Harriet’s House, sauteeing some garlic, about to add some swiss chard and open the bottle of champagne. I must think of an appropriate toast…

…pop…I raise my glass to all beings and toast the beauty and grace that always surrounds us whether we can see it or not...

...I made it! It is 3:31 am. I didn’t do justice on the bottle of champagne – sorry my grape friends L – but I ate all the strawberries…

Dinner was wonderful. Texmati brown rice with Swiss chard with a peanut sauce. It’s one of the things I can throw together without a recipe. I used to not be able to do anything without a recipe. I started with a dollop of peanut butter, and added Bragg’s amino acids, some leftover Reisling (I usually use Shiner Bock but was out), some rooster sauce, a little bit of fish sauce, some sesame oil and a splash of lemon juice. I ran out of Bragg’s so it was thicker than usual and so I didn’t have to add any cornstarch/water mixture to the pan to thicken it. My grandma likes my peanut sauce, but my Mom is not too crazy about it.

‘Estoy contenta…’ is the thought I was left with. I enjoy cooking. It always makes me feel close to my Dad. He liked to cook. We were either watching sporting events or cooking shows growing up. I particularly remember a cajun chef: ‘Pour a little wine into the pan, drink a little wine…’ My exhusband is a chef and my

My appreciaton for food increased during our time together. As did my time eating formal orioki meals at San Francisco Zen Center. Cooking is something I can lose myself in, like my guitar. I enjoy cooking for others and for myself. I can putter around the kitchen for hours.

However, I immediately succombed to a food coma and crawled under the covers and took a nap.

Afterward, I hopped out, poured another glass of champagne and picked up my guitar.

I started just playing around with some arpeggiated simple chord progressions. Before I got my teaching license and would substitute junior high school, I used to hand out the worksheets and then just pick my guitar while the students worked. And then when everyone was finished, I’d play them a few songs by the Eagles, John Denver, the Indigo Girls or Traci Chapman.

Generally, how I write starts with a vocal melody popping into my head and then I will very painfully try to figure out what chords will best accompany the melody. It entails a lot of trial and error. Sometimes no chord I know sounds good so I might change the melody or set it aside. Sometimes I would forget the melody unless I recorded it quickly. Now that I am learning the piano, I have started to write down the actual notes of the melody which will help tremendously with the accompaniement. I can’t wait for the summer when I can go back over all my old songs and finish some ones I couldn’t before.

I am trying to learn to write more than just accompaniment to my melodies. Mr Kiefer, my guitar teacher, taught me a little about fills and hammer ons and pull offs at the beginning of the semester and now I’m learning some classical pieces. So I was playing around. I still feel like I don’t really know what I am doing but the only way I’ll learn is to get to know my guitar a little better. For years and years, the only thing I ever did was strum basic chords and one simple arpeggio pattern. I learned songs. I never just fooled around on the guitar like some people and it feels uncomfortable. But I stayed with it and discovered I could hammer on and pull off with whole chords, not just individual notes. I used a very simple rhythmic motive – long/short/short – and went back and forth between Em and Am. I couldn’t figure out anything else that sounded good with that, but it was way more rockin than my usual country folk sounding strumming.

I played around with a simple interval – a minor second - Lord knows I could use some ear training practice. I want to make up a song using all the simple intervals so I can finally dial in those pesky rascals – I’ve cried more than once in that class. Makes me feel like I’m brain damaged. It’s unlike anything I have tried to learn before.

Well, that was fun. Now, on to a song. Mr Keifer is allowing me to work on one of my songs to perform for jury. I’m going to fill in some boring parts with some some chord variations and he suggested some more vocal variety like I did with Brown Eyed Girl last semester. I had a lot of fun with it tonight. He had showed me an alternate way of doing my Bm chord – one with a bar and he showed me a Bsus and a B7. I have this one part where there are many bars of the same Bm with a sustained vocal note that I want to spice up. I played around with the new variations trying to find something that would work. It turned out totally cool. At first it sounded bad and didn’t even seem to go at all, but I kept trying and ended up just using the Bsus, but I also changed the strum pattern. This is the repeat of the chorus right after the bridge and the tension remains really high. The words are ‘We tried…….to hold on. We tried…….but only made it worse.’ And then, in the spirit of variation, realized I could spice up the C to and I added a Cadd9 and used the same new strum pattern. It’s a down/up/up.

This song is SO much better than the original, original version I wrote in 2006. I was telling Mr. Keifer that it used to be in the form of A A A A A A A …ad nauseum: the chords were the same for the chorus and the verse. The whole reason I went to the songwriting school last summer was to learn how to vary it and still make it sound good. I didn’t know how the different chords related to each other. I didn’t know anything about theory or chord progressions – I just found chords that matched the melody in my head which I’m sure is a subconscious cut and paste of the many pop and country songs I have heard in my life.

So now, at 4:30, I can go to sleep having spent some quality time with myself and my guitar. Tomorrow before I leave I am going to strap on my guitar and check out the lake and grounds and play and sing with the birds.

No thoughts of loss of Michael. I am really happy for him actually. He has fallen head over heels. Sypathetic joy is a beautiful, beautiful thing. I’m planning to go to his going away party next week and offer a song or two. She will be there and I look forward to meeting her. Only by the grace of God and meditation and lots of excellent teachers and role models could I be this open. It feels really good.

I subscribe to Alanis Morissette’s definition of love in her song ‘Nothing in Return.’ I love him and if she makes him happy then that’s what I want for him. I trust the universe to continue to hold me in its arms and love me til the day I die. And then keep on loving me. Life is like a cadenza. We do our beautiful solo and then blend back into the orchestral heavenly harmony. Amen.

(And I thought this weekend might suck! J )