The Decipheress

Inadvertent Parallels

2015-07-08T17:12:00.002-05:00

"Today, as the world becomes smaller and smaller, the concept of “us” and “them” is almost outdated. If our interests existed independently of those of others, then it would be possible to have a complete winner and a complete loser, but since in reality we all depend on one another, our interests and those of others are very interconnected." - The Dalai Lama

The collective defeat is our inevitable fate less we brave the gap between ourselves and others. The insistence of difference, right and wrong, good and bad, and individual triumph can no longer exist. It is time we embrace an understanding that other IS us, and that we are so magnificently interconnected. No thought, idea, feeling, movement, or existence is in isolation; each is informed by a collective and increasingly rapid transmissions from one another, to one another. This interconnected dependency upon one another permeates the material and interpersonal world alike. Not only do we need one another, but essentially, we are one another.

I believe this. I remind myself daily, through mediation and morning walks, but moreover I am reminded of this daily. Today, about half way into my morning walk, I crossed paths with what appeared to be a homeless man, perched on a step of an unopened business front. He had all of his belongings strapped to his back, and a collection of items duct-taped to the soles of his shoes, curating a platform of belongings at which I imagined, he then walked upon.

I froze inside. At first in great despair, I sorrowed at imagining what his existence must be, at how limiting a walk on duct-taped shoes must feel, and at the thoughts, judgements, pities energetically pour on to him with every passerby. I then froze in debate, whether to acknowledge the seemingly downtrodden man, to give him money or food, assuming either would be welcomed, or to continue walking with the learnt adage that “money simply feeds the habits that so restrain them,” back to “oh but I have so much in comparison, what amount would do? Would anything do?”

Frozen.

My thoughts then jumped to gratitude, or what appeared to be gratitude, “How lucky I am, to walk so freely. Every morning, with healthy legs and a liberated mind.”

But how liberated are you after passing him? Your gratitude laced with judgement that he is not also free, free to walk, to gaze up into the sky, admiring the beauty of the flowers and the trees as you do. Your gratitude is merely pity, and a false measurement of life in terms of individual luck or triumph. How liberated are you if you see him as so different than yourself?

Like an anvil of worthless gold, that’s when I hit, “I am no more free.” I am as imprisoned by the beliefs and systems that leave this man without home. He is as careful as I am in safeguarding what is his, strapping them to himself, coordinating his life as he knows it. He is as free as I, to walk in admiration of this beautiful earth. I am as judged as he, by my attire and choice of where I sit. We are as free and as confined as one another, and will be no more permitted until we both agree that I am he and he is me.

While this example prods at a potentially wildly debatable topic, I use it first intentionally to yolk the empathetic in the group. I use it to draw a starker contrast, and challenge our inner defense. The one that pops up with our own constructed rationales on the subject, formed carefully over time through experience and cultured belief.

Okay, now. How about the workplace. Generally skewed to the teensy population receiving higher education, funneled down to a circumstantial set of preferences that led us to our general industries, and picked down to a select few with technical expertise, in a specific community, certain age, and personality type. There, now we’re down to a relatively homogenous group of folk that we interact with daily. While there may be discrepancies in background, financial status amongst the hierarchical tiers, slight differences in gender pay, we can conclude that we lie within 0-10% of one another in terms of pay and lifestyle. Now we add in a few the differentiating factors amongst us: technical expertise, religious, cultural and geographic heritages, family life, and the extracurricular activities that we pursue…. …in the same hour time slots of free time, in the same field of reference of possibility, with the same ruling principals of tolerance and fairness, and mandated respect for skills and functionality within an organization. You see my point, right?

So somewhere in our relatively analogous existences in our work communities, we still search and mandate difference. We flex and push to assure that our agenda move first, despite the repercussions, despite the long-term health of the community, despite the victory of our neighbor. We call this “business.”

Now I will not belabor this case of “business,” as I too wear a shark suit, rank below and above me, and hold the distorted belief that somehow this has anything ado with the security of the pay that so supports me. That is the essence of “business” as we know it: their loss is our victory. So, back to our homeless man: summon that aching feeling, of not knowing the “right thing,” to do. To walk by. To leave money. To judge. To sorrow. (Or all of the above in my case). Here in lies the contradiction: nowhere, even midst the teeter-tottering-spiraling-tortured internal debate, does his lack equate to my own abundance. Not at all. If anything, his lack highlights our limit.

If we can achieve so much, at the sake of so many, then what have we achieved? If we can somehow achieve remarkable levels of abundance, yet there is no place to spend, then what value does our prosperity hold? If we can acquire unparalleled levels of happiness, yet everyone around lies in gloom, do we even hold an ounce?

Nay. The happier you are, the happier I am. The happier I am, the more capacity I have to help make you happy.

Is it not worth a shot?

- Decipheress

This Little Light O' Mine....

2015-03-27T13:48:00.001-05:00

(singing to self) "this little light o' mine...." ...

And then,

When the journey gets ugly. And sticky. When we feel trapped. When we can’t see.

Where do we go? What do we do!?

We run, we flee, we hide. We imbibe, we numb, we cry. We persevere, we vow, we push.

It passes. We survive. We open. We hold a tight grip to the method of our triumph, and pronounce our victories to all.

And then, sometime down the road our unwelcomed friend peers through the window once more, and we fall again.

What now?

We fight all over again. This time though, this time, we sprint. We reinvent, we declare. We gather support, an army to defend against the battle that once was.

But it’s not working this time. A different language it seems.

So we study. We reposition. This time though, through glamorous disguise. We’ve evolved, after all.

Ahhh…. Now, I am free.

Oh but not so fast.

Chests puffed, gate tall, we are free. Adorned in brand new attired, we walk proudly back down the road. Our hearts hum the melody of our triumph and capture the attention of a looming stranger. He seems so familiar, and so, we look. We gaze into his eyes, and in a flash we see that he was us, or us before.

You know who I mean. Or have you forgotten? The ugly one. The one who is stuck in a pile of mud. The one whose own shirt has become shackles. The one who covers their eyes for fear the light will blind.

Oh no, that couldn’t be you, or me. After all, aren’t we free!?

And this is where the fork divides: some of us pick up the stranger, some of run; some cry, and others shun.

I cannot fall again. I already have. Once, twice, not another. I can’t. I won’t. I won’t. If I ….I won’t. I won’t fall. I won’t go.

We choose to save, to run, to ignore this time. And either way, we fall. We fall again. This time, to know the shadows of our own soul.

And now, we are free.

Finally.

We are free because we always were, because we always are.
Love is everything. It is who and what we are, and what we are here to experience.
And it is in love that we experience everything: light and dark, light or dark, alike.

A piece of the journey that keeps coming up again in and in those around me, is the belief we cling to of having just one victory. Just one story. Just one fall.

But in the vastness and depth of our existence, doesn’t just one movie feel a bit of a bore?! Why not experience at least one more layer of love? Why not strip away that coating of fear? If the first escape felt so free, why not liberate once more? Why hold ourselves hostage to the circumstance that we created to be free in chapter one!?

Is there really a need to run and flee from all that is dark? What good does it do to shame and hide from the past pains? Will any cleanse or discipline truly liberate us back into the light? If light and love are who we are, why grasp?

To cope, to cope is another thing. The drink, the jog, the trip, the paycheck, the new house, the deep sleep. All part of this being human. All roads that lead us towards are edge. All journeys worth taking. “Life,” after all, “is a banquet, and most poor fools are starving to death, “said the great Auntie M. So enjoy it all. The good, the bad, and the bore - each of them will pass.

Only faith knows the difference between falling and flying.

So as you are, whether it be knocked down, standing tall, flying free, or afraid to look, I ask that you know one thing: you are free. My dear, the rest from here, is up to you- what will your next chapter be?

Let it shine,
The Decipheress

The Big Hedge, An Untold Story

2013-06-19T11:49:00.001-05:00

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Hedging.

We all do it.
We do it all of the time.
We do it in so many ways.
We encourage others to do it.
We spin entire industries around it.
We validate the importance OF doing it.
We console ourselves when we fall down, IF, in fact, we did do it.
We pull ourselves up again, if we see a new way to do it.
We create new realities of hope, in new flavors of it.
We do it in so many ways.
We do it all of the time.
We all do it.

SO, just what is IT? What is in the almighty hedge?!?!

Well, the hedge, or hedging, exists everywhere we go:

In bets. The most literal of sort, we "hedge our bets," or in other words, "Lessen one's chance of loss by counterbalancing it with other bets, investments, or the like," (dictionary.com).

In Business. Basic finance principles teach us to take a "portfolio approach," to investments and ventures, whereby one diversifies their investment to maximize return and minimize risks. The same approach is applied in marketing, spreading content and messaging toward different mediums at different percentages, in hope to reach the largest and desired audience, within the given budget of dollars, time, resources....

Insurance. (Need I say more?) Insurance is the ultimate caricature of a hedge. We sign a contract agreeing to pay a monetary unit and in exchange, we will get some back in the event that, or just in case, something "bad" happens. In event we become sick, ill, or need medical treatment of sorts;
in case our house gets struck by lightening; by chance a hurricane comes, damages our belongings, and cause is wind; or if a hurricane comes, damages our belongings, and the cause is water, we hedge. We do the same with in case of fire, theft, accidents of all sorts. We hedge our risk of driving cars, boats, planes, and transportation of all sorts. In case we need to reschedule our airplane trip, there's trip insurance now.  Every month, I pay a few dollars just in the off chance that I drop or drown my iPhone,   I even carry it around in this giant, atrocious, "box," that hides all of the phone's slim beauty, and my hand can barely fit around, just in the event I drop or throw the device! Just in case.

Well now, let's be honest, for you, head-in-the-clouds-lady, that IS a good investment!! (I saw your #headinthecloudsandproud hashtags on the 'gram....!).

Umbrellas. Walking city dwellers typically have at least 3 of these. You'll see in the backseat of most cars, bottom of purses....

Errr, Decipheress.... I think we get it...pretty clear on hedging.... and I must admit, don't quite see a problem with it so far....yet, something tells me you're about to find problem with it....making lists and such, talking about boring business matters and umbrellas... what's going on?!

(Ahh... perfect transition onto my soapbox, thank you...)

Figured as much.....

For now, we'll leave insurance and banking alone, and I am quite fond of my new polka dot umbrella find, so we'll let those slide too....

(Ehhhh hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm)... (Throat Clears)...(Big glass of water).

The Truth About Hedging.
So far, hedging sounds wise so far doesn't it? (yes, this is a trap). Nay.... it's sneaky as a rat and stings with a venom of a thousand snakes. The problem with hedging, is not so much ado with practical matters, but the personal ones. Social, spiritual, romantic hedging is dangerous territory; harmful to not only self, but to all.

Lately life keeps presenting the hedge, for me to witness, experience, and decipher. Wheeled together, the past six months have been a movie reel, showing me clips of my life past and present, other's lives and stories, and set me off on a cloud to watch the scenes flicker past. If I could, I'd name this movie, "The Umbrella Dance," or something clever like that, but then I'd be terribly afraid you'd miss the gravity of the matter, and it sounds a bit like a bad romantic comedy, so at least for this post, we call it, "The Big Hedge."

Ehhh hmmm... focus.

Yes, so, this movie playing. Through the experience of others, I've been forced to bring up and share some of my past mishaps in hedging. Each time I shared my experience and advised otherwise, a spark lit, and has now grown to be a giant volcano, waiting to burst. Which ironically, is my first example at the hedge gone wrong.

Over and over again in the past six months, I've told my friend, "hedging is harmful for everyone," while thinking "I should write a post about that." So, per usual, I waited until I could filter out the hippy-esoteric-philosophically ungrounded idea into a decently recognizable form of American English. I waited a bit longer. And then, a bit longer. And the filter, well, it never came. In the meantime, scene after scene of wrongful, harmful hedging kept flashing before my eyes.

Back in the role of decipheresss, I played counsel to a few friends in regards to their dating, romantic lives Doing so, forced me to dig out some skeletons and revealed a great truth, that in matters of the heart, there's nothing more dangerous than the hedge.  The hedge wears many masks, but ultimately tricks us into letting go of our truth, adjusting to incorporate a sense of fear and lowered expectations, and promises a lack of vulnerability in exchange.

Worst part is, we've all done/do it. And all of the time:

Afraid to cross the line of "friends- but-maybe-more?" Unlike "When Harry Met Sally," this approach leaves most broken hearted, or at least, one person. Feels like too great of a risk, to forgo the security of reciprocity and bare one's soul, without a guarantee, so instead we date someone else or find a way to paint the current relationships into a web of self-deprecating, actually self sabotaging, excuses. How many times have you called or texted the current object of your desire, and quickly sent similar contact to your backup plan? In the end, all parties walk away with at best, a mixed bag of melancholy and confused signals.

Speaking of musical and artistic inspiration, how often we filter our creativity, expression, and ambitions! Afraid to pursue a career, hobby, or challenge fully, so instead we make a compromised choice, whereby we'll "get that, but...". Afraid to write a post, without a giant translator into acceptable vernacular, so instead keep it all inside....

Not to confuse or push a casual dater into eyes-on-the-prize kind of obsession,  but the bit I can no longer ignore is that when we hedge our aims, we swallow a huge bucket of defeat and untruth. When we keep one foot in, one foot out, we tell ourselves, however conscious or subconsciously, that we can't be both feet in... or worse yet, don't deserve it. Yes, there is someone "better, smarter, more attractive, etc. etc..." out there.... BUT, there's only one YOU. And that, is all that YOU really know. So don't you owe yourself a chance?

Want to know the most important piece?

I do, I do!!! What is it?!!

You share this with others.  When you hedge your own bets, you ultimately deny your own truth. When you do that, both and either, you: consciously/subconsciously, verbally/non verbally, actively/passively, tell others to do the same, and that is what you will get in return.

In dating, for example, maybe friends/maybe more, reading for signals comes across to the OTHER person, as well, mixed signals... which, is certainly not the assurance a person needs to go for it, is it?
OR in seemingly random conversation on an airplane ride, when asked "what do you do for a living?" you smother your current discontent and ambition, to wrap your current job into a beautiful package for delivery. Your conversation likely then turns into a polite one of the industry or similar topics.

Here's the piece of risk that you missed in your hedge: What if, that person sitting "randomly" next to you on the plane, had just the piece of information to lead you toward your dream job? What if, that friend, felt the same? What if, someone needed to hear those words? What if they were sorry too? What if, that picture made some one's day?

When you pursue truth, unabashedly, you give others the same permission.

Think about it. What happened the last time you saw a piece of art, heard a bird's song, or watched the sunrise? Were you held back by the uninhibited creation and ambition of it's creator? No, didn't think so.... in actuality, you likely felt a bit more hopeful. A bit of promise. A bit of validation, that your truth, might actually be worth whole hearted pursuit too....

I can't say you're wrong....

So I ask, what would happen, if we were all to drop the hedge? Fully peruse our highest ambitions? Listen to our hearts desires? Would the Nash Equilibrium come into affect, and then we'd have nothing? Possibly. However, I'd argue, as is, we don't have anything anyhow, so why not take one last final hedge, of unilateral cooperation, whereby we ALL agree, to drop the hedge?

You might not always win, but you will always see truth this way; within and without. I can't help but think, Truth, will ultimately be, the safest bet to hedge, don't you think?

Let's end this prisoner's dilemma, a liberate all of us, into our own unexposed truth. (Might make for a beautiful film.....!) I'll even go first.

Ergo, without a good filter, and huge dollop of vulnerability, I share this scribble of an idea. And, with a sincere and open heart, I beg you, please, to cut it out. Look beyond the hedge.... see the awe and wonder that exists within and all around you. #lifeisbeautiful

-The Decipheress

Between the Heel of the Boot and Ice Capped Pavement

2013-03-07T13:24:00.000-06:00

Glowing celebrations and artful libations were quickly put in their place when met by a gust of wind that smelled like a deep freeze, lingering hints of fallen leaves, and a touch of dew. The howling wind blasted its way through my coat fibers and struck my bones with daggers of ice.

Ugh. winter. I promised to never complain of you again....what am I doing here? Oh, but was that spring I smell? Or is this delusional hope creeping up again?

"I just love that sound," my friend with alligator skin, cropped boots interrupted my thoughts, "of the snow crunching as we walk."

Listen.

I spiraled out of the questioning, back to my feet and to the crackling noise beneath them.

Hah! Jubilation...that is a jubilant sound indeed! ....I like her shoes.

Before I could even attempt a worthy reply, the noise was overcome by that of the roaring laughter of the crowd, and its song distracted my chilling mind to loosen it's grip of my gaze from the ice-walk (you know the one, winter's version of walking around on egg-shells: one false step, and....), and into the horizon. As I raised my attention to see my spirited group of friends laugh enthusiastically about the uptown/downtown experience we were about to partake: moving from a lounge where the cocktail is more a curation of sight, taste, feeling, and sound as one flawless expression of shimmery extravagance, to the ultimate mecca of dive; where the hard-boiled eggs served seemed equally as questionable as the establishment's license, and the juke-box slides one through a small wrinkle of time, into a bliss that only a child or Woody Allen would be able to describe, and then spins you around once more until so dizzy enough to forget the time nor worry about any headache or impending dry cleaners trip to rid the smokeeasy's effects.

This moment.... it seems wrapped in a halo...Cars rushing by under the bridge we ice-walk upon, echoing their engine's sound, swirling up to meet the hazy glow of city's lights in the backdrop, and pointed right back down to the laughter and crackling shoes. It's everything, right here.

This moment, on the bridge, going from one place to another, remains the most unforgettable to me, of a beautifully carefree and uproarious night. I would have missed it too, if not for the observation from my friend with the modish boots. Since then, I've realized not only how much might we miss, but how much is at our fingertips in the places between. So much of the past two years, I've wanted to write, but I haven't. I've pushed this off, for a time when things are a bit more orderly. But, that time hasn't come, and I'd begun to lose my words in the vain of patience, during what feels like the longest transition imaginable.

Ehh, it has been icky long, hasn't it? But then again, where exactly are you hoping to go? Wasn't that the point in leaving the orderly state to begin with?!

Oh yes. That's right, "There is no destination,"..."Live in the Now." Those do ring familiar....

So I forgot, sue me...!!

And so, I write again. I will listen. I will note these moments and places "in between." And, I'm certain, that they too, will glisten in that same halo. Thank you, my booted friend... you saved me.

-The Decipheress

An Ode to Secret Places

2013-02-14T19:11:00.000-06:00

Hiding spots. Places providing safe escape into the inner depths of one’s being; climb to the height of the uppermost day dreams; drift away into the inner abyss of hope; to fight off the monsters of the imaginations fear; and demolish the walls of limitations.

Hiding spots. Far more than privacy, but a refuge for the soul and freedom for the mind.

Recently, I’ve learned the importance and preciousness of these places, hiding spots. More than mere escape, but a polishing to come back out and shine brightly. Brighter, in fact!

Perhaps hiding spots are not the most encompassing name. Hmmm. Secret places?

One in each part of the city; near the lake; in a crevice under a tree; on a bench downtown that takes me ten minutes to find; one at any mountain top, every city I’ve ever lived; at the conjunction of the clouds and sky; in the whispers of the trees; under my right collar bone, slightly to the left; way far up at the tip top of my brain, scattered slightly around; and in the eyes of others, when brave enough to peak.

Hiding spots, the food and shelter of my being, thank you.

-The Decipheress

The Art of Sport: Sports as a Catalyst of Change

2012-08-01T12:34:00.002-05:00

*Article written by the Decipheress for Where Y'at Magazine, New Orleans LA

The Art of Sport: Sports as a Catalyst of Change

by Kasi Dickson

For thousands of years, sport has been an outlet of free-spirited play and expression. Competition allows players, patrons, fans, observers and opponents to cheer and roar with great pride, and together the synergies of their cries provide great strength and voice to thousands, whose voice alone might otherwise be just a mere whisper. Growing up as an athlete, I realized quite early, that indeed it does not matter the outcome of the competition. The victory, rather, is in the gathering itself. From the field to the stands, to the couches on the other side of the TV, athletic competitions unite hundreds, thousands and often millions; forming a community that transcends across racial, gender, ethnic and religious barriers.

This union and bond, paves way for the grandest of all of sport’s amazement: the opportunity to escape into a moment, where our worries of future and pains of the past, are quieted by the joy of the game. A Zen, if you will, and perpetual chance to be born again, into the now, of every moment. It is why, as an athlete, we play; as a fan, we cheer.

Each day, each competition, each swing, each shot, each quarter, period, and half is a new opportunity for rebirth and progress, and inevitable progress.

The same can be said of our New Orleans. For hundreds of years, New Orleans has been an outlet of free-spirited play and expression. Where music, art, food and drink allow patrons from all over to cheer in life’s exuberance, where together for perhaps just brief moments, the synergies of the swirling carousel of celebrations allows exuberance to those whose voice alone might otherwise feel just a mere whisper. Sport and New Orleans are one in the same: hope and faith, presence and courage. The pillars that bind community, are that the tenants of athletic competition. The chance for rebirth and renewal, exist in New Orleans and sport alike. Teamwork, at its simplest form, relies on these same synergies and faith in one another; when a player has an off day, the others provide backup. Nearly seven years ago in August, New Orleans had an offday, and sport, has proven to be just the teammate New Orleans needed, and will continue to need, for its rally and continual rebirth. As a child of sport, I am undeniably proud and grateful of these lessons, and moreover, as a child of New Orleans, I am equally, and unequivocally grateful for the community and rebirth, and true teamwork that sport provides our great city.

In 2012 already, New Orleans has hosted the 78th Annual Sugar Bowl, NFL Playoff Games, BCS National Championship, Southeastern Conference Basketball Tournament, and NCAA Men’s Final Four Basketball Championship, bringing an estimated $535 million economic impact to the city, through sold out hotels, packed restaurants, record profits at the casino, and local attractions. The tax dollar revenue from this surge generates another wave of tremendous opportunity for major infrastructural and educational improvements in the city, in the first quarter alone. The trend continues well throughout the year and next, with major highlights of the NCAA Women’s Final Four and NFL Super Bowl in 2013. The tally raises New Orleans to a title that no other city has hosted such series of high-profile events within an 18-month period, and furthermore establishes our city as one of the best, to audiences across the globe, paving way to more events to come.

The implications of sporting events and tourism extend far beyond generated revenue and tax dollars; the significance of sport lies in its creation and opportunity that do not otherwise exist in New Orleans. The NCAA Men’s Final Four, for instance, also staged free concerts including major headliners like The Black Keys and The Avett Brothers, giving financial opportunity for New Orleans to reveal its expertise and allure to popular bands, while extending free sounds that elsewhere cost hundreds of dollars.

So far, the roster includes: international exposure and press to the art and culture of the city, tax dollars for infrastructure and education, tourism-generated revenue and music. Let’s add a fifth player, shall we? Community outreach programs. Off the cuff, organizations like the NFL, NORD, Devlin Institute, Girls First and the Drew Brees Dream Foundation all demonstrate the unrelenting commitment to community that resides in the heart of sport. This relationship delves even further into that of equal opportunity and gender equality. At the age of 12, I sincerely believed it within my reach to be the female equivalent of Michael Jordan, and this unshakable idea of opportunity gave me great joy with every dribbling exercise I performed on my steps, and to my mother’s disapproval, on the walls of my bedroom. This faith existed in a time where the Women’s NBA did not even exist. Now it does. Again, like the lessons learned above, my failure to rise to the talent levels of Michael Jordan are irrelevant, but the confidence and sincere faith, provided by the opportunity and my participation in sport, have paved way for great strength and made resounding impacts in my life. That’s the victory. This is the same victory that sport now offers New Orleans: opportunity to participate and infiltrate the city, our youth, with these same great strengths. In addition to safety, education, and scholarship, sport brings our community intangibles of discipline, play, spirit and hope.

Five keys players. That would, in most cities, provide a full lineup. However, this is New Orleans, where a little lagniappe goes a long way, which brings me to our last addition to the roster: change. Admittedly a frightening word to many, change seems to bring much resistance to those of our city. To be fair, however, there is much that we hold precious and need to protect from greed; exploitation that often comes masked as change or progress. Yet, Katrina left us with no option, but to change. Movements began at individual levels, rebuilding streets one at time, citizens donating a bit more generously, and living with a bit more gratitude. This individual faith bred a grassroots change, of free-spirited entrepreneurship and creativity.

The origin of these changes, were that of sincere progress and rebirth, and, of course, sport. Charter schools were rebuilt by sports teams at local universities, small businesses opened and were funded by community kickball fundraisers, and large-scale facilities improvements have provided thousands with employment, and the chance to return home.

I vote, Olympics in 2024. We can do it: just a few basic sport fundamentals of discipline, confidence, faith and perseverance, and a little lagniappe of doing it, our very own way. Working on the advertisement now… In the meantime, thank you, dear sport, for giving us the strength, discipline, and support needed to rebuild this great city.

And as we did, through the perseverance of sport, our Saints will prevail once more.

Photos provided courtesy of City of New Orleans.

The Perpetuality and Rippling of Kindness

2012-07-03T13:36:00.000-05:00

Perpetual Astonishment

This morning I opened my email to what is perhaps one of the kindest messages I've ever received. Not to say that I haven't been blessed with a lifetime of loving, kind, and amazingly generous family and friends who fill me daily with such kindness and support. In fact, I HAVE been graced with an amazing group and their encouragement gives me wings and unjustifiable confidence to act in hope and faith. Even more, at every juncture, at every leap, and every tight wire walked, to which I have had such an unconditional net, they've filled me up once more with compliments of "bravery" or "fearlessness." The high of the leap leaves me fluttering and charmed into falsely accepting these compliments, and fill up for the next big leap.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, staring at the tarantula spider that made its way through the cracks, back to the water a few flights below. I looked up to see Dad was across the pond near the tree swing, Mom showing brother the rocks, and Nana with hands on the hips of her white and green striped one-piece swimming suit. Sisters down below, in line for the climb. All waiting, watching, and cheering my leap.

With this amount of faith, in those that surrounded, I jumped, soared, and plunged my six year old being into the brisk waters below. The momentum from the flight sent me deep below the surface, to depths I had not previously known; a freedom that surpassed any expectations I had in the leap, of complete surrender and exploration....

(Ehh, emm...Decipheress, you're on a tangent....Back to earth Miss... your computer in front of you.... ehhh EMMMMM)

Oh right, compliments. Yes... my apologies.

(hemmm, throat clears...)

Blessed, lucky, supported, I am; a full lifetime of precedence in the success of faith I posses. So why the astonishment at this email? It too was full of kindness, support, unjustifiable compliments, and sent me to a place of absolute astonishment and faith. The difference I suppose, is that it came entirely unprompted from any conversation, and from a stranger I met for a brief layover in the London airport, some months back. Beyond the flattered and inflated, after reading the email, my mind rushed to a place of astonishment at the kindness of the note:

...What an amazingly special person to write such a letter... what beauty and grace lies in this world, if for a random two hour and twenty minutes shared of overlapping journeys, can hold the potential for perhaps the most inspiring rally and encouragement I've every received...

I can hardly fathom, beyond the unconditional love and support, that perhaps I've taken for granted out of lucky circumstance, the depth of love and grace that must exist, to distribute to random strangers. How petrifying! How delightful that one person has the capacity inside to make ripples that stretch across ponds even bigger than the one I plunged into at six. Is it ever possible....

(What is it?)

Is it possible, that we might too, hold this capacity within as well?

Well, Decipheress, wouldn't it be worth a try? I think you may owe a few out anyhow....

Lucky and grateful,
-The Decipheress

The Pursuit of Flight

2012-06-04T14:23:00.002-05:00

Sitting in a meeting the other day, it was gently noted and lightly heard, when the fellow across the table so boorishly suggested that I might perhaps be overly concerned with flying. With likely an astonished face, my perplexed brain twitched as my heart quivered with confusion. Am I a bit too... but, well... is he not!? And what about all of these other folk in the room, don't they wish to fly, too?! Attempting to sort through the confusion, I began to count: 1, 2, 3... and a half...okay, 4. Four times I had mentioned the act or feeling of flight in the past hour.

OH. Ohhhhh, I see....well perhaps I am.... but err, again, isn't everyone?! ... are they not?! ...

Fish out of water.

Okay, count again, that seemed to help... let's sort this one out: 138 stitches, 3 knee surgeries, 2 concussions, 1 broken arm, and 3 years of out of pocket health insurance.

You'd think, after all that, one should be slightly slightly inclined to forgo their childhood pursuit of flight....

But, I'm not.

So, as one should, when posed with such a significant question, I dove deeper.... Why am I so concerned by flight?! And then, I remembered, that first broken arm:

"At the age of four, jumping from bed to a pile of pillows on the ground proved momentarily exhilarating and gave notion, however brief, to the freedom that might accompany flight. And there it is, freedom... The eager, the curious, the adventurer within yearned for more, and such, my sister and I built our way higher. Stacking boxes, books and toys, we fashioned a set of stairs to the top our high dresser. Our pathway to flight was nearly complete, my sister recommended a few safety precautions of padding: we placed a few pillows beneath us, stood on our tip-toes to reach into that very same dresser (our future vehicle of flight), to pull out our softest pajamas and socks for our armour. Oh, how I loved those fuzzy pink socks, they were great for gliding across the kitchen floor!!

Engines running, safety measures in place, uniforms ago, and we were prepared for flight! As it went, I was the first to climb up the ladder and onto the launch pad. Summoning upon all four years of my life's experience, deep faith, and absolute determination, I took one giant, assured breath and leaped.

I flew!

I fell.

I crashed on my right arm. My sister picked me up and we quickly hid our ladder, returned to our beds, and I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I woke ever more inspired toward flight. I was however, quite banged up, and didn't want my parents to see my bruises or hurts, so I went to wardrobe, for a quick fix. Ahh, the burgundy crushed velvet dress; long sleeves!!! So, I layered myself head to toe in crushed velvet, tights, and the best matching shoes- the black patent leather with buckles. Now, I can join my sisters outside for the game of tag, and no one would notice my wounds.

It was summer, the dress was hot; the shoes, I had outgrown since last Christmas.

Play anyways...

And so, the story unfolds, my shoes proved too small, and the dress too long for the sprinting required to be "it," in the game of tag.

I slipped.

I fell.

I crashed on my same right arm...."

So did I fly? Why yes, of course I did!! Through this initial quest at flight, I learned how to stack, build, craft, consult back up, and make the best of a situation through a few simple fashion tricks! Why if those aren't tremendous heights for a four year old, then my name isn't Decipheress!! In fact, what I learned, was even more liberating than the few seconds of flight, to which, I can still recall the suspension...

I looked up to the gentleman across the table and responded, "So maybe I am."

- The Decipheress

All the Voices Inside My Head + Erring on Yes

2012-06-01T12:02:00.003-05:00

Remember that one Saturday night, when you just couldn't decide what you wanted to do: go out for dinner or head into the office to catch up on some work? Or the next morning, when you simply couldn't choose what to have with your coffee: a muffin or brussel sprouts au chocolat? The indecision so unrelenting that the only way you came to decision was to recall your recent debate of manicure and pedicure vs. cleaning your brother's bathroom!! Ahh, thank goodness for that nugget of wisdom!

Hah, look Decipheress, they’re staring at the screen like you’re insane. Hah, well, I suppose insane is a bit harsh… but crazy, “hippy,” isn’t that what people refer to you as?Okay, get to your point, I can’t look at these furrowed eyebrows much longer…wait, you have a point, right…?

Pffft!! Of course you don’t remember those moments, as we generally do not struggle with these decisions, of pleasurable pastimes versus arduous, perhaps even disturbing, tasks! No, we’ve spent years and years carefully crafting a filter of experiences, memories, opinions, cause and effect expectations, and habits to sort through these choices for us. Likely brussel sprouts au chocolat never surfaced as an option at your local café, but your decision was between the muffin, pan au chocolat, orperhaps even nothing. You may have even added additional adult like filters of health or monetary measures into your decision like where you are to be in the hours following or what you have to accomplish in the day. If you were on the way to breakfast with the in-laws, but famished, the debate is to not ruin the forthcoming meal or to not ruin the forthcoming conversation as your distracted mind is a terrible conversationalist when hungry. Or perhaps the café was cash only but you needed the cash for the bus, and didn’t have time to get more later.

Yet even still, these aren’t the choices I want to talk about. Not the relatively inconsequential choice of spending the bus fare on a muffin before your breakfast date, nor the bastardization of brussel sprouts, chocolate, and coffee all in one go! No, those either make for a good story, lesson learned, or further solidify our filters. The choices I want to talk about are the ones that rise for no apparent reason. The ones, that are neither right nor wrong, but you have no clear rationale to either side of the coin.

To this, I offer your answer: Err on the Side of Yes. Before I even attempt to win you over with examples of triumphs and taking leaps into your destiny with seemingly small choices, I must reign back to the truth: however small the choice appears, the true significance, magnitude is actually overwhelmingly important. Can you imagine, how willful the idea must be, in order to climb up the ladder, weave through the ropes, and barrel down the filter that you’ve crafted thus far?

I give you my last year of yoga trainings. I “randomly” decided to look online after a week of great yoga classes and chats with my friend, for yoga retreats and trainings. I filtered down to a select few programs based on time restraints, and sent out inquiries as quickly as possible, then left it alone for a few days, thinking the moment had passed. A few days later I found myself writing entrance essays and sending documents of my heath history, which lead to acceptance into the program and request of deposit.

Ohh, the deposit. That was it: “Do I do it? Do I quit my job and send payment? What if I don’t like it?What if it’s a mistake? Maybe I should wait until a better time, until you have a good road mapped out first?” Over and over again, you were incessant!!

Well, okay, yes. I was quite neurotic in this process of decision/indecision. SO, I erred on yes,sent payment, and a few months later, I quit my job, and flew off for Spain.When I returned this winter, sorting through sent mail, in search of a picture for my friend, where, I saw a few emails at the very bottom, from four, five, and even six years ago, that I had previously sent email inquiries into yoga training programs. So, apparently this idea wasn’t as “random,” as I thought. In actuality, it just barely made it through my filter, or past all of the voices swirling around. Yet of all the voices in my wee-little head, this one managed to climb it’s way to the top, and manifest into a decision, that has magnificently changed my life. Not in the clear “ah-hah”answer- have it all figured out-sort of way, but in the liberated, empowered way.

This rule of thumb, to err on the side of yes, extends beyond major life changing events. Even so much as the when the question arises to go to the new spot across town, than your normal Friday night gathering. Chances are, if the suggestion came up, it probably needs to be heard. In fact, that quiet, seemingly random idea is probably a voice you ought to pay a bit more attention to; it’s you.

Ha, just thinking how many times you stood wondering what exactly a caramel macchiato was before everasking….and then how many times after that, until you tried it! My goodness, I know you still prefer your Americano, but I was getting tired listening to this same question, over and over again! See, you asked, you tried, and now you know

So, yes. Go on that trip. Take the pastry class. Go to the party. Write the book. Go on a cleanse. Cut your hair. Wear red lipstick. Make the call. And adopt this rule whenever something seemingly new rises, “Err on the Side of Yes.” You’ll be glad you did....

- The Decipheress

The Mind Vice, with a Hippy Twist

2012-01-27T12:30:00.000-06:00

Happy Friday!!

The theme this past month at Wild Lotus Yoga in New Orleans was "Rhythm and Ritual." When I first began preparations for my classes, I was admittedly uninspired by the idea, as adjectives such as "discipline, " and "regularity," came to mind. Pffft! Bored and uninspired at watching you type those words!!! I did find some solace, or hope rather, in the parallels one could draw to music, art, and poetry into "rhythm," but my first drafts and ideas became so enmeshed in that of triteness, I couldn't bare to utter the words our of my mouth!

Resolute to not be beat by a rhythm, (pun intended) really? that was intentional humor? (Just trying to reiterate the struggle!!) Fair enough- it's working with me.... Okay, where was I? Oh yes, resolute not to be beat by rhythm, nor uninspired by ritual, I stumbled across an architectural thesis, discussing the relationship between rhythm and ritual, and I found just the nugget I was searching for: the relationship between.

The article used the sun as an example of how the rhythm of its orbit affects our daily lives, thus changing our daily ritual:

"For example, the sun comes into our garden or through our window. We can move either toward or away from it for relief. At first our movements may only rehearse a direct search for comfort. But eventually, simple movements may be expanded in detail to express our feelings about life in the place. It is this connection between rhythm and ritual that holds enormous potential for dwellers, either in groups or privately, to act with imagination,"

Which led to question my own rhythm, and rituals. How does each one affect the other? My first thought was that also of weather. Living in New Orleans this January, I hear, see, smell, observe, such very different patterns than that which are typical to my previous months of January in Chicago. An obvious observation, the difference of leisurely walks in the park to panicked, obsessive timing of the bus tracker, as to minimize the time outdoors during a harsh winter, absolutely. Yet, how much the rhythm of these simple, obvious differences of commute, become ritual to the way we think? Does the comfort we seek in simple things as weather and sun, have the power to dictate more than our daily lives, but also our choices?

It is easy to accept the differences of season or place. The contrast produces a gratitude of the ability to sit on a bench in the park in summer's months, and the permission to overindulge in just one more drink in the winter months, as it's just too cold outside to leave. Guilty as I am (see: An August Manifesto) in accepting these realities, the rhythm, if you will, of weather as governance of my day, I also question it's motives; are they truly what's best for me!!? Perhaps it's just the rebel within that is never a fan of being told what to do, or the same joy-seeking Decipheress that, as mentioned above, tires at the mere mention of regularity. Perhaps there is something to be said about "Rhythm and Ritual," after all!

So, here we are, really, on patterns of thinking... which can certainly send me off on a tirade of "positivity," or the "laws of attraction," but I think I'll spare us with a lighter version of the three, and reintroduce "The Mind Vice," as presented by Alec Baldwin's character in 30 Rock, whereby problems are sent to the said device, and crushed. As many take on January resolutions, 21-day challenges, I propose a Mind Vice Bootcamp, where we collect our outdated rituals, gather the rhythm of thoughts or actions that feed these rituals, and send them all to our mind vice- to be crushed. And then, when all the nuts and bolts have finished cranking, let's focus on the existing and nourish new rhythms that comprise the ritual, that forms our day, our season, our lives.

"I'm going to help you. Lie down. Put your mental burden in my mind vice, and I will crush it." - Jack

-The Decipheress

The Terms of Engagement

2011-09-08T15:02:00.000-05:00

Scattered!

...Distracted doesn’t even begin. Perhaps “anxiously anticipating, elated and overzealous, with a hint of nervous, a top note of free floating-mind wandering, and a smooth, detached finish,” would better describe it! Yes, that rings a bit closer to the truth. Just one month until teacher training begins, and I cannot sit still! Work seems an unnecessary detour; the stiffness from eight hours at a desk, a flagrant attack and undermining of my increased hours on the mat. Depressing news posts, endless chatter of economic woes, and worries of any sort, fall short to the calm and clarity following my morning meditations. Nights out on the town with friends appear a nuisance, as I’ve hopes of catching the sunrise the next morning instead, after discovering it an ethereal escape into a sliver of spirituality, a thrill unlike any glass of wine or champagne. Adventuring to new neighborhoods and restaurant openings has lost its luster just the same, as my increased awareness that energy poured into food preparations and organic farming methods hold equal importance to the food itself, and I am often left feeling sick, not of culinary joy! Even writing this post proves hard, as I’m sitting in front a computer, when really I am curious beyond imagination how breath, cellular function, and chakras integrate, or how I might incorporate Reiki trainings and Ayurvedic studies into potential asana sequences, and envisaging the change I want to bring through yoga. Well, then again, having listed it all, I suppose distracted will do. So yes, distracted, that I am! But, engaged? Well that’s clearly something I haven’t left room for in all of my Ibiza preparations. In fact, am paradoxically doing just the opposite of what yoga teaches us!

In defense of my distracted ways, however, this training is the first goal I have allowed myself to indulge in since my days playing college athletics. Since then, I have essentially banned myself from pursuing anything in full, until I knew it to be the right goal, as I have a drive stronger than I like to admit, one that led to three knee surgeries, a severely compromised immune system, and a lifetime of physical limitations. Albiet, I did achieve my goal of competing in college athletics, I realize now that my unwavering drive was more an unconscious state of disengagement than an admirable fortitude; it came with great compromise and an inevitable crash, that ironically enough, led me to yoga, so I cannot wave my finger too harshly on the experience, but should remain unforgiving to heed the lessons learned from it. Since playing, goal abstinence and yoga have been my protector and insight.

In the past month, since fully committing to teacher training, I find myself in old territory of blind ambition, and I am forced to ask what is my goal, after all? To abandon compassion or connection to others, desert favorite pastimes, and ignore all realities that do not mold me into a teacher?! No, no, I think not!! My goal is to bring the same health and well being of mind, body, and spirit, that yoga has brought me! But there is a greater truth to be acknowledged here, not just the ah-hah moment, but the struggle. I struggle, just as I did in over training my hurt knee, to not outstretch myself in my yogic objectives. My ambition is a reality, and as yoga has taught me, there is good and bad in everything and it is in fully accepting the entire truth, that we may choose the good.

And that is one goal, that through the teachings of, and teaching of yoga, I can achieve! But, I must remain engaged in it. After all, remaining mindful of breath and posture, while exploring a new restaurant is the same awareness as, and may even require more grit than, resolving to wake at dawn to hear the grass brisling at the pond near my house, in the hours before anyone is awake to clutter its song. Engaging with others might bring stress and distraction, but also gives way to a surprise belly laughter, producing similar effects of Agniprasana (breath of fire), but also insight to the interconnectedness and divinity of all things. The goal of yoga is not an unremitting tranquility, but rather a dogged intent to remain present and fully engaged. Engagement, requires forgiveness of the past, a compassion of the present, a patience for the future, and to remain neutral in the analysis of each. That is the goal, and the joy of yoga.

One month to go, and nothing but a mat and mindfulness to keep me on track!

Paz, love, joie!

The Decipheress

*Written by The Decipheress for YogaShala

An August Manifesto

2011-08-01T11:48:00.000-05:00

(Revisited from August, 2010)

Dear Friends,
August is upon us. Let take this moment, to reflect on the glass half empty/half full dichotomy of this month… As we all know, one of my favorite mantra’s is “ehh- life’s short…!” but it wasn’t something I fully understood until a wise man retorted with “yes, but it’s not always that short….” (circa 2009, Old Town Ale House, wee hours of Sunday morning)…. I was completely flabbergasted; who has such audacity to contend with my New Orleans bred carpe diem song?!

I realize now, after 4+ years in Chicago, what he meant. Winter. We blindly fall into its trap, year after year; following the Chicago cycle of: care free-summer drinking, parties and events of fall, that one brief month of exercise, more drinking, liver overload and hibernation, ardent proclamations of relocation to warmer weather every March which leads to job searching and vacations of late spring, distracting us all back into Summer… and here we are, yet again… So, there’s my cynically just and observational proven glass-half empty take on things….

The glass, however, is still yet, half-full. Now, you might be thinking, “how, after such a convincing argument of our depressing lack of free will to the tides of season or weather, could I possibly see the glass half-full!?!?” Well, I’m glad you asked my friends, and that’s why I write today. Because, it’s still summer. And that, is glorious…

Glorious, in the sense, that we have complete freedom to go out every day, travel about foot, frolic through the sand in games that almost resemble volleyball, buy fresh goods from the local growers and feel good about being green, eat ice cream and not be consumed by Darwinian fears of frostbite, smile at passersby, take off early on Fridays, attend countless outdoor music festivals, remember what charcoal smells like, share childhood memories of s’mores and then realize they are not obsolete!…. The list could go on and on, but I think we ALL can agree, Chicago Summer’s are simply, wonderful. And, they go by too fast…

Which is why, I propose that we take this bull by the horns, and see what wool we can pull over Old Man Winter’s eyes! Let August be a month, to see and be seen. Make as many friends, acquaintances, coworkers, amenable alliances, even slightly hostile relations, if they’ve a good sense of humor or good looks…bring them all! Let us not go gentle into that dark night; rage into winter with an army bigger than it’s seen thus far!!

For the few of you on this list not living in Chicago, come visit! Don’t just take advantage of our warm hospitality in the summer, leaving us stranded for the remaining 9 months, come visit… bring your ski gear, you’ll be fine.

And finally, let us expand our interest and hobbies, so as to see, learn, experience, and share more… oh, yes, and help out my liver-feeling a bit taxed after summer.
Now, stop reading! Go, get out- makes some friends! Spare no expense or line of the eye- go!!!

Yours, on behalf of the mutual appreciation society of Chicago,
The Decipheress

Egomaniac....Moi?!

2011-07-20T13:17:00.001-05:00

One would think, with all of my transferring around in college, causing loss of credits and the retaking of courses, I’d be fluent in Spanish and a professional at psych 101 by now. Turns out though, not only am I clueless how to say “ego” in Spanish, apparently I haven’t much a clue what ego means in English, either! That is, until Cealo. A few months ago, my dear friend invited me to visit with Guyano Cealo, a Buddhist monk from Myanmar. With help of a translator, we were allowed thirty minutes with Cealo, to ask questions, seek spiritual guidance, and offer prayers on blessed bamboo wood. We spent a bit of time in meditation, preparing our questions and ensuring that the translator understood entirely. When my turn came, I entered the room, sat on top a pillow, and gazed around at the rocks and bamboo decorated room, while the translator read my questions.

Cealo opened his eyes. I was immediately frozen by the peaceful intensity, and familiarity of his eyes...

Cealo opened his mouth and began talking. I was frozen once over, as the translator fed back his message, which took a giant spotlight to my glass-half-full-optimistic ego, and blew my, clearly misinterpreted, Freudian, and socially demonized comprehension of ego to smithereens!!

So, turns out… I have an ego. (I being the operative word there!). Yes, it’s true: The Decipheress has an EGO. Ummm, Decipheress… ehh errr… you know, that’s quite obvious to the rest of us? This is your blog after all… with your ideas… My God, you even write in multiple personalities, and third person at times… was it really that much of a surprise?! Well, I suppose I knew I had some ego, never attached myself to the type-casted money-achievement-award seeking ego-maniac; money’s never quite done it for me, and praise falls on deaf ears, actually makes me a bit annoyed. Ahh hah, you see?! Oh. There it is again..… well, let me go back to the beginning, we’re clearly not on the same page yet. Non non- I’m picking up what you’re putting down… have to make sure I understand, don’t you?! Point taken. Well, as long as I’m here, can I tell the story? By all means, but just so you know… I’m watching you…..

Okay, so where was I? You’re surprised. Right, so beyond my mistaken notions on the subject, I was shocked that given the questions presented, that Ego, was Cealo’s answer?! Although it’s taken me two months to put words to this experience, or rather, fully comprehend it, I still recall the nature of my questions being focused on “… how to balance serving others and following your own spiritual path; when to help when you see others struggling, and when to honor your own path? And can daily life routines and work ever fuse with spirituality?....” My, my, you’re so humble, aren’t you, Decipheress?! Oh, please… it’s why I came to him at least, isn’t that good enough!?

Well. That’s actually, just what Cealo said. To paraphrase, and likely, butcher, he says “Loving is not hard….. when you follow your own path, and live honestly within, that unity is love…. Choose one thing, one act, and that is enough.”…. He continues, “anything beyond that love, is just Ego.” He continued on, but these words seemed to hold the weight of it all….

(Two months of day dreaming, sitting, pondering, pontificating, drafting, and deleting go by…..)

Ah-hah!! So even our service feed our ego!! I see!! All of this effort, in vain!? Well… no, I think intention is as important as any, so I don’t regret that.. what it means though, is that I feed my ego, with every “act of kindness,” as that’s something I’ve attached to my identity, or in other words, my ego! Sure, I might not be a 1980’s movie stereotype of a fast-paced, money hungry, shark-suit wearing, pushing old people and babies aside for time saving, ego-maniac, but my ego, is fully served by my desire to do nice for others. Ever more, that ego is good, as Freud does indeed detail fully in that psych 101 class (apparently twice over wasn’t enough!); nourishing the ego is just as important as monitoring it. That’s what I’m here for!!

In the past two months, this idea has unraveled my perceptions of all of my relationships, my duties, my sincerities, my dishonesties, of myself. I struggle with letting go, of those previously ‘pleasing’ ways, and honoring my own truths and desires, but I’ve found, so far, that this is one struggle, that is not indeed in vain! In fact, it’s already attracted several new friends, opportunities, and feelings of sincere joy; while peeling away layers and layers of outdated habits in my relationships, communicating style, and routines. I confess I worried, that my changes would not be full well received, but not once have they come to shape. In fact, since making effort, to live within, to live in my love, and not in the love of service, I have had nothing but thanks- and that, well that, that just feels good to the ego!!

I’m not sure if this egocentric piece reads well or not, but it’s one that I had to write to honor the changes within… and if it does decipher well to just one other, than my goodness, from me, to Cealo, thank you!!

And special thanks to my dear friend, Andi, who brought me to him.

-The Decipheress

Steadfast Joy

2011-05-02T22:34:00.000-05:00

"Joie de vivre " translates, in its most basic form, as “the joy of living,” which, to me, provokes thoughts of exuberance, free floating and soaring daydreams, effortless belly laughter, extravagant meals on a summer evening with your nearest and dearest, the smell and sight of spring flowers, costume parties, porch swings, and happy dancing feet…. Come back Decipheress, you’ll lose your train of thought…train ride through France- that was beautiful… Okay, okay, I’ll stop!....(Clearly, I could go on, but, I’ve much more to discuss….) Joie de vivre is a way of life; uniquely crafted by each individual. It is simple and pleasurable; exuberant and creative; vivacious and comforting. Simply, it is, the joy that is living…..

Like the good Piscean that I am, ever morning I put my rose-colored spectacles, place blinders to all things unkind, and spend my days chasing rainbows for that pot of golden joie...As I lay my head down at night, I polish the tale of the day and dress it with sparkles of silver lining... wake the next morning, with a clear slate (sometimes giving it a good sage rub or two), toss on the spectacles, and envisage an even higher and fluffier cloud to fly to, as for better sightseeing and joie de vivre hunting....And most days, I catch it, most days…..

Ahhh.... The world is right through these....

Absolutely, I disclose, how lucky, extraordinarily lucky, on so many levels, and in so many ways, to find joie de vivre most days. But… ehhh, I’m human… and uh'Merican… I want more. I want joie de vivre all of the time. Every day. Every moment. In every way. Supersized please!

And, to be honest, I work really hard at it, and sometimes, I get tired… (insert "wah-wah" here)…. I can't help but think, there has to be an easier way...right? ….And, there must be a way, for the other eleven (possibly twelve), zodiac signs, who might not live in an evasively whimsical or slightly imaginary world, for those who need it most, and for all those eyes that roll (I can see you), there must, be a simpler way! Right?

Well, good news, I’ve found it! (aren’t you glad you hung on so far?!)

Then again, I didn't necessarily find it (too busy laying in a cloud!), it found me! With help of an amazingly spiritual family, delightfully inspiring and inspired friends, an oracle of grandmother, a long series of coincidences, a volcano, birthday party, two passers by on a bridge, following a random curiosity, and one year of intense spiritual and creative exploration later, I found myself sitting in Debbie Taitel’s workshop, “Heaven meets Earth: A Journey of Spirit,” at Yoga Now in Chicago. As joie de vivre, in its simplest, translates to "the joy of living," the workshop addressed, in its most basic form, addressed the seven chakras, as listed below. (Please accept this deciphering, at this, most simple form, with full acknowledgment that it is only skims the surface....)

The Seven Chakras- (from bottom to top)
1st chakra - Muladhara - Base or Root Chakra
2nd chakra - Swadhisthana - Sacral Chakra
3rd chakra - Manipura - Solar Plexus Chakra
4th chakra - Anahata – Heart
5th chakra - Vishuddha - Throat Chakra
6th chakra - Ajna - Third Eye
7th chakra - Sahasrara - Crown chakra

The first three chakras (root, sacral, solar) embody your physical plane and connection to the earth. The last three chakras (throat, third eye, crown) comprise your spirituality. When any which one of the chakras is blocked or holding onto energies that do not belong there, an imbalance. We often try, in our earthy pursuits, mental, physical, and spiritual (or in my case, daydreaming), to overcompensate for these blockages, which so often leads us off our path, tires us out, and spirals out of our control....exhausting, at it's best! really glad I went to this workshop...

To offset this distracting, depleting, and dizzying process, we learned grounding (chakras 1-3) and golden light meditations (chakras 5-7), to clear these energies and fill with our own divinity. The alignment of these energies, where the oneness of earth and spiritual light meet, occurs in the fourth and middle Heart chakra. The union creates a euphoria in the heart, as Debra illuminates "where heaven meets earth," an inner body experience of sort! I wish I had better way to describe the exuberant, joyful, dance like peace that I experienced during this meditation, but no earthly words would do it justice... It was, simply, of the most divine joys and love I've ever experienced. The best part, is that it was a joy that requires no champagne or sparklers, only oneself.

Ah-hah! There it is! The golden pot of joie de vivre!

Now, I could end this here, claiming to have found the cheapest and simplest, most innate and divine form of joie de vivre, I could. Yet, I did before spout off about wanting it all of the time, everyday... me and my big mouth... really need to work on that soapbox bit impulse.... so, without the stars aligning, help of an amazing instructor, and the paved out two hours of meditation alone from all of "real life," how do maintain this inner body sense of joy?

Well, I suppose, with a slight divergence from the above sermon of ease and joy, by harnessing a bit of that stubborn optimism and the relentless pursuit, we can find the discipline and self love to practice this meditation.... and that's choice- to recognize all that we seek lies within each and every one of us; to appreciate all that we are is everything we've ever had or will ever have. Nothing ado with astrologically order or religious perspective, it is a simple choice, to live in love and live for joy... and to be steadfast, at that.

And the lagniappe... is that when we slip, we can always try again... and when we need it, there are still, our worldly and simple translations of joie de vivre... like the joy I found in my cup of coffee this morning...

Coffee Love!

So grateful to Debra, to the volcano, and seemingly random series of events that led me to her, for showing me the inner joy, that is the only joy. I wish you all the same, and as much joie de vivre you can find, and share.

-The Decipheress

Where Simplicity of Heart is its Own Ticket Of Admission

2010-01-18T11:30:00.000-06:00

Sleeping on the futon of my sister’s one-room studio, has obvious peculiarities and significant reason for skepticism. In fact, I’ve decided, at the root of sharing a single bedroom after childhood, lies some sort of crisis, financial, personal, or both. One’s own alarm is enough to cause panic every morning, but certainly enough to snooze by. Add in another, unfamiliar and shrill melody to your immediate surroundings, however, and you’re certain to reach unparalleled levels of anxiety each morning. But back pains, suitcase-wrinkled clothes, and cabin-fever issues aside, I want to discuss something else; the ever-handsome, Robert Redford.

After unplugging the television, speakers, and water kettle to avoid blowing a fuse, I set the pop-corn kettle maker into the microwave while my sister poured diet ginger-ale into wine glasses. I unplugged the microwave and walked the power cord back over toward the television. A grind of black peppercorn and sea salt later, we sat down, upon the sofa bed, for a night in of “The Great Gatsby.” One of my all time favorites. I had always escaped into and admired its decadence: the clothes, the cars, the Charleston (and sincerest apologies to my friends and other eye-witnesses on this one, but it really IS my favorite dance), the long stem yellow roses, the champagne… and the line “Come for the party with a simplicity of heart that was its own ticket of admission.”

For a moment frustrated by my unflappering garb and futon circumstances, it occurred to me that the latter was something I’ve had with me my entire life: my sister. She embodies simplicity of heart; a party is never less than three feet away and her vivacity and generosity remain, a ticket of admission to all those subject to her benevolence. That I may find such a place, crammed, so generously, in a eight by ten foot room, makes me far more fortunate than the likes of Daisy, and a contemptuous Fitzgerald, relieved to know a world of confined materialism and only excessive love. And although I will be forever entertained by lace up shoes (still looking for a pair- please send any good finds!), lavish parties, and a man with a three-piece suit and pocket watch, in the mean time, I stand grateful, to a place called home and a sister, who like Gatsby, believes in the creation of your own fête, with a smile ”of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life....It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself.”

-The Decipheress

The Down and Dangerous Side of Practicality

2010-01-14T04:06:00.000-06:00

Download 03 Spreadin' Rhythm Around (Lady Bug

I knew it was going to be one of "those days" after I smiled and said "no thanks" to the barista who offered my an extra Americano that another patron left behind, but little did I know that the apparent short circuit in my brain was more than an attempt in moderation. Typos and misunderstandings plagued my work all morning, urging me to venture off for more caffeine. Finally back under the sweet song of the starbucks' siren, I purchase an iced coffee to celebrate the sunny day in the park. On the way considerations of blood sugar, waste line and skin popped around like fireworks. I can just eat candy back at the office, it's okay….well, fine, you're right- not that busy, will feel better, no excuse…. But you just spent 6 dollars on coffee; you can drop a few dollars on regular food. So, I step into, mostly out of thrift, Subway for a sandwich. $5 not bad… I might even be able to eat half for dinner, I thought while waiting for the crosslight to turn green. Finally at the steps I sit down to enjoy my pocket and health conscious meal and sip my iced coffee. And then, as if nature and karma were in complete objection and rejection of my adopted practicality, the horror began.

Two bites into my veggie wheat, a "bee" decided to join me. Be calm, let it browse, it will go away, remembering what Dad always assured me of bees. It didn't. So I shooed it. The "bee" didn't want to be shooed. Fair enough, I don't like to be told what to do either. I tried again. Provoked, like a rebellious teenager, the bee let me have it. I jumped off the bench- phone flew across the park, sandwich on the ground, my clothes and hair. Sigh. I bent over to wipe the sandwich off my pants and recover the bits of blackberry on the sidewalk, kicking the ice coffee all over my bag. F. that one hurts. Beaten and exhausted I clean myself with the remaining napkin bits and retired back to the bench. Well, how about a cig? Need to accomplish something with this hour. Scraping around the bottom of the well that was once my purse, I bare an unscathed smoke and bubble gum pink lighter. Still damp from the flood, the light took a few strikes and assertion to light. I lean in and flick harder. FINALLY! It lit! But before my rejoiced spirit could take one drag, panic overwhelmed. I lit the napkin in my hand afire too! Jumping up again, I threw the napkin into the sky for the grand finally of my disastrous fireworks display. Remember 4th of July at Oaks- when they paused them because of dangerous winds… snap out of it-this is not time to reminisce on the pyromaniacal day dreams of a 6 year old waiting for fireworks. I stomped out the napkin.

Flights of Fancy....

2010-01-12T04:22:00.000-06:00

You are my favorite,

Free bird,

In all of the skies,

Even those

Not seen by eyes.

-J

Sweet Dreams

2009-12-16T11:05:00.001-06:00

On this morning’s quest, to solve world peace and find the ever-sought remedy for the common cold, I ran directly to the internet. First thing’s first- the cold. I can’t bring peace to the world with a nasally voice, now can I?! I queried natural remedies, most of which led me to preventative, healthy, and peaceful lifestyles, full of yoga, balanced diet of no caffeine and robust in vegetables, routine sleep… How perfectly ironic that my mission for peace is the same life that brings me dripping nose!? How is a gal, striving to fight the crimes of the world and replace them with love and joy, excepted to have time to attend a yoga class!?!? …. And ginger tea. Now THAT, I have time for.

So I grabbed my hippiest coworker, and headed down to the coffee shop, for a ginger tea with honey. The combination is alleged to help with congestion and put me back on course. As w stepped up to the counter, the barista offered samples of their “decadent” hot cocoa. Ignoring all mentioned readings that sugar would worsen symptoms, and nearly spilling the tray of samples out of her hand, I fumbled and jumped about to reply “of course!” Pure delight. Who needs peace on earth when you can buy heaven in a cup!?!? And, true to form, just to spite the plugged up nose on my face, I ordered myself a large and largely “decadent” hot cocoa, throwing all ginger herbal remedies to the waste side! Not that they would fit, there’s probably two boxes of Kleenex worth in there!

Back at my desk, just as I expected my childish decisions to clog the remaining airways of my nostrils, a cocoa-induced memory flickered in:

5^th grade. Snow day. In the kitchen of my best friend’s house, chugging mug upon mug of hot cocoa, (see, now you’re getting to see how this hairy brain works) after hours of rambunctious sledding, carving the longest snow tunnel on the block, and tackling every boy in the boys vs. girls powered football game, I relished in the memory of my epic feats. Just as I was receiving my award ceremony for “Most Air off Sled” finished, my thoughts were unpleasantly interrupted by my friend’s mother. She was consoling, or rather, counseling my friend. I hadn’t noticed in my day of heavy competition, but apparently, my friend was sick. Her mother didn’t offer the typical comforts, but rather a chant, mantra to “repeat three times ‘I feel good. I feel great. I feel excellent.’ If at the end of the third time, you don’t feel better, we’ll go to the doctor and you stay inside until you’re better.”

Phasing back to reality, after several missed phone calls, I weighed in on the notion. Mind over matter. And then back to holistic remedies. And western medicine. Well, is there a difference, really? All are simply, a belief, in a protocol.

Furthermore, there’s that peace idea we spoke about earlier. Simply an idea, isn’t it? otherwise, this would be a aimless circle of journey and thought!! As such, is love. Completely improvable. A notion, no more or less, than peace, mantras. But, one I believe, from the cold towel my mother placed on my forehead, the countless trips to the ER.

So, in addition to hot cocoa, I add positive thinking, to my list of tools, in my quest for peace:

“I feel good. I feel great. I feel excellent. “ Repeat three times.

(And believe it- benefits will come in tenfold).

Oh yes, ginger tea! Finally got a cup- helps tremendously!