A View from Someplace Different

What does it mean to say We Will Never Forget? The Zadroga Act.

2015-09-11T01:34:00.000-07:00

It is the 14th Anniversary of 9/11. I remember clearly how so many people swore never to forget that day, those who died in the buildings, those who fell to their deaths, and those who rushed in to help - not just that day but in the days, weeks, and months after.

The following is from CNN September 11th Fast Facts:

2,977 people died in New York City, Washington DC, and outside Shanksville, PA
Of those who died, 343 were New York City firefighters, another 23 were New York City police officers and 37 others were officers at the Port Authority
As of September 2015, 1,640 of 2,753 WTC victims' remains have been positively identified
Families of those killed had until December 22, 2003, to apply for compensation. Families who agreed to get compensation from the federal fund agreed not to sue the airlines.
It was June 2004 before The Victims Compensation Fund finished its work processing death and injury claims from families and relatives of Sept. 11 victims.
Of 7,408 applications for both death claims and personal injury claims, 5,560 awards were made.
On January 2, 2011, President Barack Obama signed the James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Act of 2010, reopening and expanding the scope of the VCF. When it passed there were 206 Yay votes and 60 Nay votes.

1,700 additional people have died since 9/11 of 9/11 related illnesses.

Better writers than I have already written about this, so I'll cut to it and give you the link here to a story published yesterday. The image below is my friend Danielle Barrani. She went. She was one of the thousands of First Responders who weren't even from NYC but went because she was needed, and that's what people like her do. They rush into buildings and danger zones when everyone else is rushing out. They don't think "oh, wait, I could die or get ill, I should think about this." They don their coats and hats and masks and they flee into the building, rubble, and ash - all in hopes of finding someone alive, someone who needs them. I hope you'll take the time to read this article, which briefly gives her story and that of other responders. She suffers from lung problems as a result of her decision to rush in in the days following September 11, 2001.

So if better writers than I have written about it, why this blog?

Because the truth is that in spite of the fact that we the people get a great deal of satisfaction from giving lip service and using catchy phrases like "We Remember" and "Never Forget", we have forgotten in the worst way possible.

The 9/11 First Responders are dying in high numbers and living with illnesses caused by the events of that day. Our moments of silence, our meme posting, our talking about it, our catchy phrases - none of those things will matter because the people who rushed in have been forgotten. They and others who were impacted - approximately 33,000 in 431 out of 435 congressional districts - risk losing healthcare and benefits because the Zadroga Act must be reauthorized in October, and there is threat/concern that may not happen. The concern is valid because there are opponents.

But you can do something.

Today, on the 14th Anniversary, the thing that will matter the MOST, the most important thing we can do to HONOR the 9/11 First Responders and all the people who died and survived that day, along with their loved ones, is call our Congressional representatives (and demand that they reauthorize The James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Act. Ask them to act immediately for re-authorization, and let them know you support making it permanent so these people no longer have to fight for the benefits we owe them.

Some of you are going to question the cost. Just... don't.

In light of the fact that people died and continue to suffer and die in the greatest tragedy ever to strike our nation, cost should be irrelevant to all of us. What is the value of your life? The life of the EMT or firefighter who saved or may save the life of you or your loved one? I think the lives of all these people - people who rush in while we all rush out - have enough value to receive the benefits they are owed.

I challenge you to make the call. It will take only a minute out of your life. Don't you think you can spare that to actually remember and never forget the people who gave it all?

Stay

2015-08-22T01:21:00.001-07:00

Have you ever watched something so sad, something that touches you so deeply, that it reawakens your deepest sorrow? It's a funny thing, emotion, and how it can be triggered. I know about triggers. I write about them in the work I do, so it is not an unfamiliar topic. But even those of us who know about such things can be blindsided at unexpected times. Funny that that is how human emotion works. It catches us.

The thing about it is this: you are going along, remembering your happiness, finding the way to laugh and engage again. You are reconnecting with what life was like before. Your depression is less of a dark gray veil hanging over you, hugging you from head to foot, and more of a shimmering gloss that stays at the fringes, like those ghost images you see out of the corner of your eye but shake off, telling yourself ghosts aren't real. It's not constant or present enough for you to think about it actively any longer, but once in a while it comes to you in the form of a single tear that travels down your cheek. A catch in your throat when you hear a phrase or say a word. A photo. A date. A pain in your heart so sudden and swift you can easily pretend it didn't happen.

You push through those moments, content that they come less frequently, and you realize you can live with all of this...

Then the thing happens, and it moves you in a way that others would see as inappropriate, an over-exaggeration of what anyone else would have felt or experienced while watching or hearing or seeing or doing. You find yourself suddenly, out of the blue, lying there in your bed, the tissues piled up, crying in a way that you know does not mesh with the movie as you try to convince yourself that it was in fact just this stupid horribly sad movie. But what you know, what you know is that what you wanted was to get that rewind. You want that thing that was taken because it was not enough and too much. You want that person sitting next to you who pulls you back from the brink of darkness, that person who utters one simple word: Stay.

What you realize, what you know, is that in real life he wouldn't be there because that only happens in movies. It's only in movies that they mean it when they say all they want is you, and they bargain with you, and they really love you so much and are willing to stay when staying is the hardest thing, not the easiest, but you are worth it. You cry because that is the sort of thing that doesn't happen to real people - only in the movies. You cry because for them it was enough.

Or maybe it's just me...

The same but different

2015-07-12T14:55:00.003-07:00

Today the thing that got me out of my home was a talk by Chris Ryan, PhD, on the book titled "Sex at Dawn: How We Mate, Why We Stray, and What it Means for Modern Relationsihps" written by him and co-author Cacilda Jetha. Some of what he said wasn't surprising to me - that part being that we are a promiscuous species not meant to be monogamous. I agree, and those who know me know that I love being right - especially when my theory is supported by science...

But that's not what this is about. This is about things staying the same while they change, and that neither change nor sameness are wrong...

I was raised Catholic (I'll wait while you get the groaning out of your system.)..........................

That meant going to church, "celebrating" the Eucharist, singing, being at one with a community, and the inevitable shaking of the hands at the end of the service to solidify that they see and feel each other and they have a shared commonality. Their church community helps them feel less alone. What I call the kumbaya experience - a thing I've intentionally avoided for decades. I willingly left all that behind me some time ago and have not missed even a moment.

Today the speaker I wanted to see (Chris Ryan) was at the Portland Sunday Assembly. I hesitated to go, because the words Sunday and Assembly were next to each other in the same sentence. Naturally, my distaste for these kumbaya communities raised the hair on my neck, so I did what any good non-believing cynic would do: I researched the group and found they are in a fact a secular organization. At least they wouldn't have their imaginary friend there with them, so that weighed on their side. Still, I was hesitant, because I know that anywhere people gather like that they are going to want to hug and touch and reach out. I have of late become more the "don't fucking touch me and don't count on me to participate" kind of person.

Finally, my desire to hear the author speak on his book subject won over my hesitancy to venture into the kumbaya circle.

Upon arrival there were a lot of smiling women there wanting to greet me, give me a nametag, and make me feel welcome in their community. Understand that I do not have a full-on aversion to humanity or kindness, but these days I'm less inclined to participate in group hug events - whether they are physical, spiritual, or emotional. I should interrupt my thoughts here to say this: this morning I woke in a mood that should have kept me from venturing amongst humans, but my desire to be a part of an intellectual exchange overcame my aversion to emotional or physical interaction. So, I yanked up my big-girl panties and made my way there.

The smiling faces of the happy happy joy joy greeters did little to change my mood, and what I discovered was that even in secular gatherings, nothing is different. There may be no dogma, and the invoking of an imaginary friend is missing, but the singing joyful noises are the same as you find in any church on any block in any town, and I could not abide. They had two sing-along songs (and I must say, the music did not suck), which I sat through, but the minute they organized the "introduce yourself" activity I found my legs and escaped. Fortunately, there was a bench outside where I was able to sit until the speaker was introduced. The woman I had been sitting next to - who seemed to have an intuitive sense that I was uninterested in the clamoring of a group of happy people lit up with life - came out and got me when Chris was being introduced. Admittedly, a nice thing to do.

I won't get into the talk (although you definitely should check it out), but I will say that this morning's activity was a lesson for me in myself: a lesson that served to emphasize for me that personal change is an interesting transition from who you were to who you are. It was a lesson in being the same but different. I learned that I continue to have an overwhelming desire to be a part of interesting dialogues and exchanges, but that I am also averse to being around other humans practicing any sort of spirit-lifting kumbaya hand-holding spirit embracing togetherness.

Big deal, right? This is not a discovery that will matter one bit for the world or the humans who swim in our quagmire of human muck. But it matters to me for a couple of reasons.

I am different than I was 10 months ago, but it's not a bad thing. The new alone me is able to make unfettered observations about myself and others when I do venture out.

I like being around strangers - even if they are strangers I don't want to be around - because I don't have to be what people who know me think I am.

I can be a person who does not smile and refuses to wear a name tag, and not one person will ask "are you okay?"

I do not need to engage with people. I can be alone in a crowd and I can sit by myself in a restaurant full of people and no one will come over and say "hey Liz, join us!"

I am a person who no longer feels deeply or cares much. In fact, I've come to realize that much of what I talk about with passion now is more knee-jerk reaction from years of being involved in those things than it is truly caring about the topic.

This freedom means that I can take a job that is outside my field because I no longer have that deep-seated urge to do or belief that I can change the world. The truth is I cannot, and I have become okay with that.

What stays the same is that when everything is washed away what I still have is my intelligence, and that intellect will carry me through - over and above emotion - for the rest of my life. It will hold me safely apart from being a part of connections that eventually unravel. It is the thing I have valued most in my life, and no matter how much has changed in my life, that one thing stayed the same, and it is the one thing I can count on.

So, I've got that going for me.

And about that flag

2015-07-04T16:42:00.002-07:00

An observation: Red states and their politicians - who purport to be true patriots and Americans and blah blah blah, who like to believe they support the Constitution and all that it stands for - are deciding they are somehow better than the Constitution. They have decided that following the ruling of the Judicial Branch of the United States Government, as established by the very Constitution they pretend to love and embrace, is unnecessary. Hell, some are even fomenting revolution over the idea of marriage equality! (Really y'all??? REALLY? The idea of two people who are not straight and cis-gendered getting married - an act that is frankly none of your fucking business - is so personal and horrible to you that you are going to get this worked up???)

On this Independence Day, one must question not only Conservatives' lack of commitment to upholding the Constitution of this country and it's laws, but whether this Country is truly a great institution capable of standing under the weight of time, change, and dispute. Kenneth Karst in his book Belonging to America, said: "There are no footnotes on the flag." I say you cannot hold the constitution in one hand and a whip in the other. You do not get to praise this country and its founding while changing history and using that changed history to try to shift the present. You cannot claim to honor the founders while ignoring the reality of what they wanted and hated and loved and dreamed of for the United States of America. You cannot have it both ways.

People of this nation have forgotten what this country is and instead have divided into groups of hate and dissent vs. acceptance and equality vs. apathy and ignorance. We are at a crossroads, and we best choose definitively soon, because fabric can only be pulled and frayed so long before it comes apart. Are we truly a more perfect union and a country that understands freedom, or has our experiment come to an end?

And if seeing the image of this tattered flag is what pisses you off about this post, you are part of the problem my friend.

Boy bodies vs. Girl bodies (or why boys should not wear short shorts in the gym)

2015-06-30T14:03:00.005-07:00

Guys, really. Those short shorts that come up to the place where your thighs intersect? That shit is too fucking short to wear to the gym unless you are also wearing a good pair of tighties underneath. Don't get me wrong. I love a good looking penis as much as the next person, but NOT when I'm in the gym. I don't want to look up to Mr. Peebody sticking out of the bottom of your shorts all like "Hey girl, whatup???" waving at me and shit.

Now, for those of you who are visuals, I've made this handy infographic detailing the difference between boy bodies and girl bodies and why short shorts work for the latter but not the former. Feel free to share. Hell, make a copy and post it in your gym!

And you are welcome.

Don't make me have this conversation with you again.

Crowbars, fear, and days like this

2015-06-28T14:07:00.002-07:00

"Sometimes there are days like this when that slow steady effort is rewarded with justice that arrives like a thunderbolt." President Barack Obama, 06/27/2015

I find it absolutely astounding that people of this country are so afraid of marriage equality. The many comments opposing the Supreme Court ruling cemented for me that fear is too deeply embedded in the citizenry of this country; and those fearful citizens allow that fear to lead their actions and thoughts. They don't see that they are not threatened by equality, that there will be no undoing of society because someone else gets what they have, that their personal decisions will not be impacted. They instead choose to embrace everything that tells them the sky is falling on their tiny little heads and hearts. They continue to insert their crowbars of fear into the fracture that runs deep through this country - prying away to force that divide.

With Friday's ruling we celebrate that the Supreme Court of this country made a majority decision that acknowledges basic human rights for marriage. We celebrate that the fracture has been sealed in one section. But let us not forget that all is not resolved. Let us acknowledge that there is much work to be done to bring full equality, and that work cannot be achieved simply through laws, policies, and SCOTUS rulings. We cannot just swipe our hands together and say "well, thank goodness that's done, let's all move along." We must remember that what SCOTUS did yesterday was remove one crowbar, but many remain, for many groups:

LGBTQ folks still face discriminatory employment laws in 29 states, as well as other social and legal disparities and inequalities, some more than others when factoring in race and gender.
Women still do not have pay equity, reproductive justice remains illusive, and with each day we face the reality of more and more laws being passed that reduce our ability to control our own reproductive choices.
Black men and women continue to wake up daily in a racist oppressive nation through which they face constant injustices and dangers - targeted because of their race.
Native American populations in this country continue to experience: being treated as second-class citizens, removal of land rights, high rates of violence and poverty, denial of religious freedom, and oppressive social practices.
Latinos are regularly attacked across the spectrum, whether the conversation is about immigration, violence, or poverty, with little acknowledgment to their contributions to this country.

The power and privilege held by men, whites, cis-gendered heterosexual, and the wealthy are mighty crowbars in deepening and widening the fracture of our nation. But we can each choose to put down the crowbar. We can decide to not scoff or bristle when we hear the word privilege associated with how we identify. We can decide to begin educating ourselves and do the hard work that means looking both outside of us at the systems and inside of us to see our own privilege alongside the racism, sexism, or other isms we hold onto - even if it is unintentional. We can choose to learn the reality of how oppressive our nation and laws are when it comes to so many that are not us, and we can do it honestly and openly again and again and again.

That work is part of us all putting down our crowbars and figuring out how we can help our neighbor put down his or hers so we can begin to mend the fracture. Let's as humans decide that enough is enough and we want to see more equality, love, healing, and hope. Not because some being or thing or person tells us we have to, or because a fractured nation can never be a great nation, but also just because it's the right thing to do.

In spite of those who stood (and continue to stand) firmly for hate and inequality, Friday's ruling showed us a glimpse of a day that comes in the form of social and legal justice. Commit to being a part of more days like this that make us a great people.

Van Morrison, Days Like This

So This Happened in Texas

2015-06-28T14:05:00.001-07:00

Originally posted May 8, 2015

Senate Passes Bill Banning Insurance Coverage for Abortion

Are they the only state? Sadly, no. According to a policy brief just released by the Guttmacher Institute, there are 27 others.

It makes me angry, sad, and concerned for the health of women in this country. Each day we watch as laws are recommended and or passed that place women more and more at risk of being under the dominant rule of the State (or government). If you believe that's not true, well, you are wrong

If you vote Republican, you are to blame. You give them the power. You help them. You encourage them. If you are anyone who is not a white christian man and voting Republican, I'd like to know why you are inclined to turn a knife in your own stomach. If you are a man who votes Republican, I'd like to hear you explain why you think every group that doesn't include you is less important than you. You obviously believe it's okay to discriminate against and disenfranchise women. Apparently you are okay with your mother, wife, sister, daughter, niece etc. being subjected to fewer rights than you. Enjoy power much? What kills me is that Repub voters say shit like "well, government has gotten too big, and Republicans are in support of a smaller government." Cognitive dissonance runs strong in you voters.

Our country has lost its collective - and in too many cases individual - fucking minds. Apparently there's nothing left to do but play along with batshit crazy, so I'll start the ball rolling with this:

Let's put the GOP fully in our bedrooms - for everyone. If you want to legislate what happens between my legs, let's just finish batshit crazy by fulling getting involved in between everyone's legs. Everyone knows we cannot be trusted to make our own decisions, so I give you this list of what the Government must begin to take charge of:

~~ Men, no Viagra or other ED drugs paid from insurance of any kind. Pay for your own hard-ons as an out-of-pocket expense.

~~ Everyone - no watching porn in your bedroom unless it's GOP approved.

~~ Women having sex with men- no dominance in the bedroom. In fact you can't even get on top because that could be construed as dominance.

~~ Men having sex with women - No doggie style. No seated style. Nothing but missionary position. That Kama Sutra book you have? Burn it. Right now. Go get it and burn it.

~~ Men - those breastesez you love to suck on . Forget about it. Those are for feeding babies. You are not allowed to go there.

~~ Everyone - no oral. Because that leads to nothing but gratification, so all of you who like that shit, just forget it. You are not allowed.

~~ Everyone - keep your fucking clothes on. Go talk to a Mormon and figure out what kind of clothes they wear to have sex, and that's what you all should buy.

~~ Everyone - IF you get an STI of some sort - tough shit sparky. You'll live with that or pay for it out of pocket. It sure as hell will not be paid for out of your health insurance policy. You know, the one you pay for with your hard earned wages.

~~ Everyone - No pretty under things. Victoria's Secret - I'll miss you, but your stuff is first to get crossed off the list.

~~As an added bonus: Men - all PMS drugs will be taken off the shelves. From now on, you deal with it and keep your god damn mouths shut. You know, the way you keep them shut when we are losing rights. You deserve that shit. Oh, and while we are PMSing we get to open carry. Because 2nd Amendment rights.

Oh, and how will we monitor all of this??? Cameras. Cameras in every room in the house. Cameras with night vision so they can see if you try to fool them. Don't even THINK about having sex on the kitchen counter or the couch because there will be NO fun during sex.The only thing to be done in the laundry room is the laundry. Don't make us disconnect the spin cycle. There is to be no spontaneity. You arrange 1 day a week on your calendar and that's IT. That includes no lubricants or oils of any kind, because that might make it pleasurable. This means no showers together, because you would see each other all nekkid and shit, and frankly that's just too much temptation. And don't even think you are going to be sneaky and do it in the car, because we'll make sure cameras are there too.

If you get caught having an orgasm, if it is suspected you are enjoying yourself during your duty, or if you get caught breaking any of the above rules, we'll make sure you get a chip implanted in you so you are unable to have sex.

From here on out it is the nasty, the dirty thing, the unspeakable, the chore, the duty - all those things the nun told you it was - and it is not to be done except with that attitude.

I'm sure the GOP will come up with some batshit crazy I haven't thought of, but I think this will get us started.

Why Hillary Doesn’t Have My Vote Sewn Up

2015-06-28T14:05:00.000-07:00

Originally posted April 11 2015

I frequently get attacked when I question Hillary Clinton's ability to be the right president, or if I say she does not have my vote sewn up. I voted for President Barack Obama against her because she repeatedly failed to answer hard questions, because I question her political agenda, and because I think she's too closely aligned with major corporations (e.g. Monsanto and big oil).

Does that mean I'll vote Republican? Not on your fuckin' life. But if the Democrat running against her in the Primary is more satisfactory to me than her, yeah, I'll vote against her. In spite of popular opinion, I do not vote for a woman just because she's a woman. You earn my vote. You don't get it.

For further explanation, here's my take on voting: It is incumbent upon politicians to tell us what they are doing. More importantly, it is incumbent upon voters to think and analyze. It is not just our job to vote blindly, but to ask questions of the politicians, or those who aspire to political office. Most importantly, it is their job to answer our questions. And it is our job to vote for the bigger picture, which is why I would never vote Republican. Their big picture is one of hate, bigotry, misogyny, and greed.

Our system is a hot mess, and part of that is because people vote blindly, or guided by fear, or because they are star struck, and politicians keep terrible secrets or flat out lie. Worse, the Democrats, though they are mostly well-meaning, also have a terrible marketing plan and spend more time engaged in talking about how bad the other people are than they do talking about how good they are and the great things they've done for the nation and will do for this nation.

As a voter I should not be attacked for asking honest questions and expecting answers. Nor should I be attacked for questioning some of the things being done by a person who is asking for my vote.

If you break it down to a giant marketing plan, here's what it looks like:

Republicans have a two-part marketing plan. The first is a party line that they repeat endlessly. Yeah, it's a bunch of fucking lies, but it's also an effective marketing ploy. You know how when you hear one of those commercials where they say the phone number 7 - 10 times in about 30 seconds and it annoys the hell out of you? You know why they do that? Because if you hear something often and frequently, you remember that. Republicans have repeated their lie-filled party line enough that voters believe it as true. The second part of their plan is repeating endlessly how bad the Dems are - lies yes, but lies made true in the minds of those who hear it often enough. Also, Republicans rarely vote outside their party, and their leaders know this.

Democrats have a shitty marketing plan, which has been my greatest source of angst since I was 17 and gaining interest in politics - as a Democrat. They undersell themselves, they let the Repubs paint them into a corner, and instead of pushing back they say "nuh uh, you're mean." They allow Repubs to bully them, and for the most part they turn their backs and tuck their tales between their legs. Their marketing plan is to just scream bad things about Republicans. The important part they are missing is that they aren't giving a message - any fucking message at all - about what they will do or have done. Democrats will vote outside their party line, not because they are idiots, but because they are convinced by the Republicans and not the Democrats.

We as Democrats must begin to demand of our politicians that they do better, speak better, stand up better. We need to make sure that they address their accomplishments, answer the hard questions, and aren't in bed with the 1%.

Or, we can just say those who don't tow the Democratic line and vote for the popular kid in class can go to hell and they are idiots and see how many we lose through insults, stomping our feet, and allowing the shit that has made us fail continue to be our party rule.

P.S.

For fuck sake, STOP saying that the parties are the same. Do a bit of homework and you'll see immediately the fallacy in that statement.

P.P.S. This just in.

Life. Death and Fear

2015-06-28T13:59:00.003-07:00

Originally posted February 27, 2015

Lately I've been thinking about fear and how it seems to have grown exponentially over the past few years. People live fear-based lives: someone wants to kill us; someone wants to commit a crime against us; someone wants to take what is ours; someone wants more than we think they deserve, and that will cut into the money and stuff we grasp in our needy fear-induced fists.

We load our children with fear using dying as a threat: don't do that, you could die; don't trust them, they might kill you; don't go there, it's too dangerous and it may mean death. We need more guns because there are people who want to harm us, so we have to be prepared to harm them first. Thus we enact stand-your-ground laws and defend cops who volley dozens of rounds into citizens, the citizens and cops alike claiming "I was afraid for my life." We have to limit where we go and what we do and who we associate with because, fear.

People live in anticipation of death, which I find incredibly sad, and that's what this is about.

I don't recall worrying much about death or letting fear guide my decisions throughout my life. That is not to say I've not been afraid of things, because I have. But aside from the basics, like something happening to my loved ones, my fears have been limited to two things. The first - and this will surprise those who know me (except my sisters) - until recently I have been afraid of the dark. Of course there's a reason, but this is not the place for that examination. Suffice it to say that mostly I was afraid of things I could not see. Things that go bump in the night. It's why I was no good at camping. Because walking at night in the absolute dark that is the woods I could hear things that I could not see, which meant having no control over my own safety. I have a vivid imagination and there is quite literally nothing I cannot imagine (which is one reason I don't watch scary movies; and trust me, you do not want to know the things I've imagined in my life). I don't need the big screen to show me what my mind can conjure unbidden.

The second is love. I was always afraid of love. I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough, that I would make a mistake, that I would not have control, that I would trust the wrong person. Worst of all, I was afraid I would be hurt. I knew that if I invested 100% of me in that venture, the pain that would come should it not work would be deep, dark, and unending - like trying to measure the very end of nothing and everything.

Beyond these two fears, I wasn't really afraid of anything. Not of change, of moving, of cities, of strangers, of people in authority, of authority in general, of speaking up, of losing a job, of losing a friend, of being lost. People have always called me brave, but I don't see it as brave. It is simply that I am unafraid, and those are two very different things. What happens when you are unafraid is that you do not fear death. The fear of being killed or dying from a disease has no control over you, and you no longer let fear keep you from living.

Driving away from Seattle Tuesday I spent time considering these matters, and what occurred to me was something new that I've seen back there in the recesses of my mind in the past five months but not looked at, like seeing a box under the bed that you have to put effort into reaching, so you just leave it there until the time is right. When I opened the box and peered in, what I saw is that along with not being afraid of dying, I am now not afraid of anything at all. As I analyzed the contents of the box, what I realized is there is a connection between my newly found complete lack of fear and the fact that I was proven right about love. You see, someone convinced me that I didn't have to be afraid of love, that giving 100% of myself instead of my typical 85 - 90% was okay. I now know that it was in fact something that I was justified in fearing, but what has been confirmed for me as a result is that I can control that by simply not engaging. Love is something I never have to do again, so there is nothing more to fear.

And that brings us to my no longer existent fear of the dark. You see, once you've faced even one of your worst fears and lived through it, you no longer care about the other worst fear. Why? Because you care even less about dying than you did before. So if I'm out walking in the dark and a murderous raping orcvampwerezombie gets me, so be it. I will be dead.

This lack of fear is freeing, really. Does it mean I'm going to be careless and stupid? Of course not. Why? Because although I am not afraid of death, I also do like living, and I would like to see my grandchildren grow to adults and have children of their own. I would like to live long enough to see my work in areas of social justice make a difference.

As for things that go bump in the dark - bears, biting dogs, monsters (both human and imaginary), men, and all that other shit? Frankly my dears, just like my badass friend here, I don't give a shit.

It’s Not Falling it’s Flying

2015-06-14T12:47:00.000-07:00

Originally published June 8, 2015

It was a fundraiser called Skydiving for Veterans, and the moment I saw the announcement I said "oh HELL yeah, I'm so doing this!" I clicked on the page and signed up. I committed to raising $500 for organizations that support Veterans, and I committed to skydiving. Why? Because A) I like to do what I can to support Veterans (don't get me started on the fact that we have to fucking raise money because our government - sic the Republicans - won't properly fund necessary housing, services, and health care) and B) Skydiving.

Because I've wanted to do this since I was 19 years old and in the U.S. Army. Unfortunately, it was 1977 and when I told them I wanted to be an Army Ranger they laughed at me and said "girls aren't Rangers, now get the fuck out of here."

Because I could.

It's been a very long time since I was 19, but I didn't forget, and now seemed as good a time as any. After all, who wouldn't take the chance to do a good deed AND cross something off their list of shit to do (aka bucket list) at the same time?

People tell me I'm brave for doing it, but I don't know that that's true. They said the same thing when I drove my nine year-old daughter to California from Idaho to go to Disneyland. They said it when I moved to New York City to attend graduate school. They said it at points in between. In my mind it's not about being brave: it's about not being afraid to live, and I see that as different (readers have heard me say this before). I see it as an opportunity to see and feel something you can only get from doing that one thing.

Here's the thing about jumping out of an airplane at 13,000 feet: it is just someplace different than you were 15 minutes ago. Remember when you were a kid, the first time you went down the tall slide? You sat on your butt and scooted closer and closer until you were right on the very edge. And then - it seemed like you were flying for just a minute as you pushed off. Then you landed and you jumped up and down and screamed "I did it! I did it!" It's like that, but the tallest, coolest fucking slide you'll ever ride. When you jump out of a plane you'll get a view from someplace very different than anything else - something that I guarantee you cannot be seen from earth - or even from an airplane window. Something like this:

I took in the curve of the earth wearing a halo of light
I saw colorful patterns that changed as we floated past, spinning slow circles
I was able to lay on my back and get a bit closer to the sun, but not so close I would get burned
I heard the sound of nothingness. Nothing, except for the wind rushing past me as I fell toward the earth - and nothing else
I felt how time slows down when you are free falling at 120 mph
I experienced awe at the wonder of seeing things from hundreds of miles away
I learned what it means to truly catch my breath on my own terms

Think about life and all the scary things you've done and what that meant to you. Think further about the things you've missed out on because they felt too big, too far, too much and the regrets you may have from saying "no, I can't." For me it isn't about being brave: it's about saying "Oh fuck yeah." It's about not being constrained or stopped because something bad might happen. Hell kids, something bad could happen while you sit on your balcony drinking wine and watching a sunset. You could decide that you'd rather be afraid because it's safer and then find out you've missed out on the best thing that might have happened to you, ever.

Think of skydiving - or anything you find scary - as just something different and then realize that you could live in fear, but why, when you can fly?

Next up? A solo trip to see the Northern Lights in Iceland in November. Fuck yeah.

The Letter L

2015-06-14T12:44:00.004-07:00

The Letter L

These days I spend a lot of time thinking about love and relationships. More precisely, I spend time trying to sort out what love means and if it truly exists.

Love is a crazy and powerful word when you think about it. A word that we hear from birth, associated for most with safety, light, warmth, and security. Close your eyes, allow the word to thrum through you, and your mind will likely conjure swirling images brought to you by a mix of real life, fairy tales, and desire. The kind of desire that lives deep inside, waiting with the promise Disney, our parents, and books showed us. Look. Just there, over the horizon - you see that radiance? That is what they said love looks like. Stand in the sun on a beautiful day, the heat just enough to make you glow, the wind washing over you like silent caresses from finely woven silk threads, your head back and your arms outreached toward nothing and everything. Do you feel that? That's the promise of what love might feel like on any given day. It touches you everywhere and gives you something to remember, even when there is no sun, the ocean is thousands of miles away, and the wind nothing more than a cold nuisance. It is a word whispered on the phone from 2,400 miles away, a touch while you sleep, a kiss so soft there is no word to describe the sensation. These are things we learn to sigh over and call love. But isn't it just a word, like so many others?

Words are a beautiful thing, each with a true meaning, but so often used incorrectly, whether with malintent, ignorance, selfishness, or just sheer inconsideration for others. How very sad is it that among all the words in our vocabulary, love is a word of both beauty and pain, rendered meaningless by centuries of misuse? People use it with no thought for the real future. It's just a word. They want to be in love, so they find a whole range of ways to use it - to convince just one person that for them it is the real thing. But the truth is, it is not real. It is just a word, confused with other words.

Lust: We have an urgent sexual desire, and instead of using the correct word - lust - we say we love someone.

Longing: We have a longing to hold them, be intimate with them, hold their hand, but it's only that. It is not love. It is just that desire to touch, connect.

Like: We like someone - a lot. We laugh with them. We are happy with them, and as that liking becomes more entrenched we mistakenly think we love them, and we use the word. It is not love, but we load our arrow, aim for the heart, and strike. Because that's our inability to be honest.

Liaison: We are having a liaison. It's exciting. We go to fun events and special places, and we like it so much we want to do it more, so we take them to a nice restaurant where we can make what will become a painful memory, look them in the eye, hold their hand, and say "baby, I'm in love with you." But true to form, that is not love. It is merely a desire for companionship.

Learning: We learn about them, and we don't hate them. We can tolerate them, so we speak to them about a life together, using other words like always and forever. We use these words casually, not thinking for a moment that words matter and leave an imprint, even after we take them back. It's like that burn on your hand in high school when you reached into the fire to pull out the glove you dropped. You'll always have that scar, but all you could think of at the time was getting that glove. You didn't really love that glove, but it was all you had and you learned to ski wearing the glove, so you grabbed for it.

Ludus: There's what the Greeks called Ludus, or playful love. You had fun with them. You had fun at a hockey game, watching your favorite show on tv, at festivals, and in bed. You played together and you laughed a lot and it was good. Really that was just fun, but we feel a need to attach a name, like taking in and naming a cute puppy because it was cute when we first found it. And you wanted to be with it. Until it grows out of its puppy phase. Then you wondered why you kept it.

Loyalty: We don't want to be with anyone else. We just want this one person. We are loyal to their dreams, desires, and even their past. We stand by them when they are doing something that at the time seems like a great good idea, and we grab them around the waist and pull them in and say "baby, I'm so proud of you, I love you so much." Really though, that's not love. It's a moment in time that you watched unfold, like a child taking a step, and because clapping your hands seems inappropriate and your emotional vocabulary is limited you take that bigger step and utter the words you cannot take back.

All of these things are very real at the time, and they all are appropriate words that matter and fit. But those words are not in our vocabulary, so we reach for the word that is. We reach into our quiver and pull out the first arrow that comes to hand, place it in the bow, draw it back and release the word directly into someone's heart.

And when the lust has died, the only longing we have is for distance from them, the liaison is a daily grind, what we've learned is more of an irritant than enjoyment, the playfulness is subsumed by life, and the loyalty is long gone, the word love becomes less real. When the things we thought were love are only tracers whose glow has faded, we convince ourselves that it's okay to withdraw the word. We yank out the arrow, pulling it backward, destroying the tissue and muscle inside their chest, and we just walk away. The words I'm sorry - words we were taught to use to make up for our bad behavior on the playground in first grade - do nothing to repair the damage. Sure, those words make the speaker feel better. They walk away, wiping their bloody hands on their pant legs, repeating "I didn't mean to hurt her/him." But the truth is that there just are not enough apologies to staunch that open wound they left in the person who gave them everything and would have given them more. The speaker takes their bow and quiver and moves on to their next victim.

We live in a world of people armed with arrows against those of us who laid down our shields. It's not even a fair contest. It's just a life of lies, deceit, betrayal, and pain.

When it comes to relationships, lets be honest. There is no love. There's just the letter L, a whole lot of wrong impressions, and a path of bodies left in the wake of selfishness and a poor vocabulary.

I lived

2015-02-09T13:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we have experiences that, quite honestly, make us say to ourselves "what the hell am I complaining about?" I embrace those moments because they remind me that my life has not been so bad and is in fact pretty damn good. Yes, I've had some bad things and sad things, along with 'why me and dammit this sucks out loud' things, and there have been things that, as a result of my lived experience, measured up as what I believed were fucking tragic. Yet, again, compared to real tragedy that others have lived through, these things were mostly nothing on the greater human experience scale.

Yesterday I had the honor and privilege of having a conversation with a woman who shared with me her experiences as a result of some severe medical conditions - conditions that arose because of one missed red light. She has gone through some really terrible painful times - things I've never ever had to face - and while all this was happening she pursued. She did some great work, advocated for herself and others, moved around for her job, pushed through pain that most of us would find unbearable, started graduate school, and entered a relationship. This woman's resilience, strength, and courage astound me, and I have tremendous respect for her.

So during my 4 hour drive home I had much to consider. I began by thinking of her, what an amazing person she is, and how she has risen above the stupidity, ignorance, and arrogance of others and followed her own goals and dreams in spite of them. Somehow though, I lost that bright, positive train of thought and my thinking turned toward my recent relationship loss and the deep-seated anger that remains for him. I devised a rich and long-lasting curse against him. I dug deep, and it was horrible, filled with black anger and bloody despair. My Crone friend reminded me and warned me about the universal consequences to me should I pursue that curse. The blackness that I would share in building and maintaining such a curse and how I would lessen my own life in any pursuit of his suffering.

I have spent a good portion of my life chasing my dream of social justice and equity - a life intent on doing no harm. Most of my adult life has been one of standing up to injustice, advocating for those whose lives could be enriched and made better by my advocacy and intervention, striving toward improving the world and leaving it a better place. Even when others did not approve of my work; when others hated me and wanted to do me harm because I stood up; when I experienced backlash; when my jobs paid so little money my kids and I were in poverty; when my ex threatened to take full custody because of my work/travel schedule; when I lost relationships because men truly do not have the capacity to be with a strong woman who does not give a fuck what people think. Through all of this I have persisted in doing what was right: improving policies, organizations, and communities because if even one person could be saved or helped because of my work I would be satisfied and know that I had done the right thing. I have lived fearless because this is my path. I have been honored to be part of the sisterhood that stretches across a vast quilt of time and space, a quilt whose stitches represent women like me - some of whom have quite literally sacrificed their lives in pursuit of justice and equality. A sisterhood of women who have lived.

These two things are closely connected because thinking of my life and Tiffany's reminded me that I am not here to do harm. It is not mine to mete out justice, nor to dishonor my work through adding pain to an already pain-filled world. So today I closed my curse and opened the door wider toward focusing on the good things that are here and how I can use my gifts to undo the anger, fear, greed, and selfishness that have come to define our world. At the end of my days I want to say that I kept my mind and heart open, and that my work helped improve things instead of making them worse. I want to look out on the world and say that I brought good change instead of change that harmed. I want to be proud that I didn't choose to deny people of food, housing, education, healthcare, freedom, and choice, but that instead I participated in building a world where these things are built and preserved. I want to be a part of a movement where we humans can show that we cherish love and good life as an everlasting monument to humankind more than we value structures of steel, stone, blood, and money.

I am not a martyr by any stretch of the imagination, but if I've learned nothing else in this life it is that we can be better humans when we turn our thoughts to kindness, generosity, and compassion and away from anger, greed, and fear. At the end of my days I will have peace knowing that I strove toward things that improved life on this rock. While in my life I may suffer pain and despair and metaphorical broken bones, with my very last breath I will be able to say I lived.

Smiling, not happy

2015-01-25T14:42:00.000-08:00

I watched Lucy last night and it started me thinking about things, primarily how we use so little of our brains, and what we could do if we focused on, as they said "being" instead of "having." If humans chose to evolve further, to use our brains for good instead of anger, judgment, destruction, hate, power, and greed, imagine the world we could inhabit. But that's not what this post is about... Well, it is sort of I guess....

Today I was cleaning out my Google Drive photos and happened upon some pictures. At the time when I looked at or took those photos (not just me, but photos from others as well), I was thinking "So happy. Everyone is so happy." That was at the time the present, and the only story I knew was the one I was in at that moment, or that I was seeing with my limited capacity brain. Today when I look at those photos, they are the past. Today I know the story. When I look at those photos now, I know that in some cases the person in them was having some problems, was lying to someone, was planning something unknown that would hurt someone, was angry with the person they were sitting or standing next to, or was/is just an unhappy person. When I look at those photos now, knowing that back story, what is clear is that although they were smiling for the camera, they were not happy. When the camera was pointed at them and the photographer said "smile!!" that's exactly what they did. They curved their mouth into the symbol for happy, but inside, not so much.

If we all had that extra usage - just another 5% or 10% - we would be able to see through that facade and know the story in that present moment. The question I ask is: do we not - as small-time brain users - have the capacity to see past the happy symbol, or do we have the capacity and simply choose not to see something that may require conversation and/or effort?

So here's the thing that occurs to me as I continue to think about Lucy and life and photos and humans: let's try to stretch our brains just a little. Even though we likely won't get to 15%, we can in fact use our brains along with our hearts and instincts. We can look deeper, look into their eyes, listen to the words they tell us, and understand at least a smidgen of their truth. Perhaps in so doing we can rise above our limitations and become more sensitive, kinder, gentler, less judgmental people. We can ask ourselves why on earth we turn our backs on people - especially those we purport to love. We can look at our parents, friends, lovers, and family members and choose not to be pissed off at someone because they disagree with us (or we with them), or because they exercised their free will and did something different than us. We can stop tormenting people we know and love with a need to control or dominate. And we can, maybe, apply that to the broader population: to our communities, to our villages, our nation, those in countries we may never visit but who could use our support and love instead of the blind eye we choose to turn.

Am I great at this? I won't pretend I am. But I do try to limit my angst and anger, and I certainly try not to direct it toward my loved ones.. Why? Short of them doing something really horrible to me or another human (and I'm not talking about hurting someone's feelings and having slip-ups where you hurt someone unintentionally, I'm talking about just in general being a shitty, horrible, harmful human), it is entirely unnecessary for me to get angry with them, or to judge them, take sides with or against them, or to stop talking to them. I really do not need to contribute to being a part of a photo where people are simply smiling and not really happy. I'm not perfect, but expanding my capacity to stay away from this is certainly a worthwhile endeavor, and I'm willing to give it a shot.

So I've got that going for me...

Just an observation

2015-01-24T17:38:00.003-08:00

Here are some things I love (not in order, just things, which is why the list is not numbered):

Image courtesy of Matador Network

Portland, OR
Spring days in Winter
Livin' on the left bank
Weird shit you see in the city
Irony
Observing humans and their behavior
Conversations with friends
The Interwebz

The sum of these things combined makes for a damn fine day. Hence, today's post.

I woke this morning feeling rather ho-hum, which was interrupted by a call from my friend Heidi. Funny that she called, because I was laying in bed thinking of canceling our 1:00 drinking plan. She called to cancel; but then as we began chatting and talking about why I deactivated my FB page, self care, and all that, she decided that we should get together after all (to support my self-care plan) even though she has a paper to write. Because, friends. So, in the back and forth planning I ended up going to her place, which for me as a resident of the left bank means driving down Martin Luther King Boulevard/99E, past the Convention Center.

Naturally, the lovely Spring Day had lots of people out on the street, which grew to a veritable throng as I approached the Convention Center. Here's the part I love. Today at the Center there were two events happening concurrently: The Wizard World Comic Con, and the Chocolate Fest. It made me smile, driving past and seeing the combination of people from both mingling outside, like the children whose necks twisted in all directions to take in the characters from Wizard World Comic Con. On one hand, "mmm chocolate." On the other "look at that green guy mom!" And of course, when you combine good weather with devilry (you know, all those crazed wizard/fantasy/cartoon//science fiction characters got nuthin' but the devil in 'em), you know who's coming out of the woodwork don't you? That's right - the doom & gloom "good lawd bebe jeebus is a comin' for all y'all sinners (because all ya'll is plural for the singular y'all), and y'all are goin' square ta HELL as soon as the world finally ends" faction. Which made me think of this:

When those people wake up in the morning on a beautiful day, does one nudge the other and say "hey, honey, I got an idea. Let's git outside and enjoy the day. Let's call up our friends from the Church of Everybody's Goin' to Hell in a Hand Basket But Us Because Us Good Them Bad, and we'll dust off them there signs leanin' up against the house and go on down to where they're making devilry and go out on the street and scream at them about how God hates them and they ought not to be embracing the devil and his ways because it's our God-given right to stand on the street and force our personal belief on people who just want to get some damn chocolate and/or dress up in their vampire/zombie slaying, universe saving, super hero, cartoon, Star Trek costumes and have a bit of 'I don't have a stick up my butt' fun. Didn't I tell you when we got married I'd always show you a good time baby?" And isn't it ironic that these very same screamers who have the right to stand on the street and yell their beliefs at us also piss and moan that their rights as Christians are being infringed upon? Oh don't you just love blatant, raw irony??

That shit cracks me up. So, Heidi and I laughed at them as we started our walk, and for the next hour we walked, talked about 48 different things, soaked in some good old-fashioned Vitamin D infused sunshine, enjoyed the river, and got some exercise. I love that I live in Portland where there's no snow and ice in January, and I get to see and take in all this stuff. And the fact that I have awesome friends I can share this with just makes for a perfect Spring in Winter day.

Finally, I just love that when I come home and decide to write something this stupid I can go on the Interwebz and find for-real stupid stuff, like Crazy Christian Nonsense (thank you YouTube), that helps me mock things like crazy Christians.

Yeah, this is the sort of thing I think about...

Can I have popcorn with that privilege?

2015-01-18T20:13:00.005-08:00

There I was, cleaning my kitchen and thinking about whether I wanted to go to all that trouble to heat up some of the leftovers in my fridge or simply pop some popcorn when what occurred to me is that I have so much for which to be grateful, and what a spoiled shit I am that my big concern is a choice of a healthy meal I prepared myself - a meal that's already on a plate and just needs to go into the microwave - or popping popcorn to go with my wine. Because, lazy. Of course, that thought led me to thinking about what I have:

A beautiful apartment with a view of the city
A car that I just assume will get me from point A to point B with no problems
Money in my wallet that allows me to go to the store and buy more herbs so I can make my cream and face wash better (which makes it a want, not a need)
Electricity, gas, and clean water that allows me to use modern tools with which I can produce said creams and face wash
Numerous electronics that allow me to be in touch with the world, listen to my choice of music or news from anywhere in the world, and watch my choice of movies and/or television programs
A college education that allows me to earn a good living and pay for all of the above, plus affords me a certain amount of respect
White skin that allows me a great deal of privilege, which means I don't have to worry about being suspected of a crime, shaken down in an airport, assumed to be a drug addict, cast aside as someone who is assumed to be uneducated, or being shot because cops "fear for their life" around me
Veterans benefits that help me receive medical care, vision care, and dental care

While in possession of all this and more, I complain about the small irritants we white privileged middle class folk love to complain about, like what I am going to choose from my nicely stocked freezer/refrigerator/cupboards to stuff my piehole. Certainly I have my level of privilege based on my income, education, class, and skin color, but what's crazy is I have friends that have more than I who complain even more than I - friends who make six figures a year and complain that they are broke. They can't afford that third motorcycle, they can't buy a new car this year and have to drive one that's three years old, they have to settle on mini-vacations like going on weekend trips instead of having a $3,000 vacation. They went on their $3,000 vacation but they didn't have as much fun as they thought that money would buy. Maybe with a $5,000 vacation life will be better? They have the time and money to visit their second home, but they end up having to spend money to buy a new appliance, and part of their vacation is spent having to deal with maintenance. Oh the trials and tribulations of owning a second home! The level of complaining seems to increase (my observance) as the standard of living increases, and what does all this privilege get us?

We fail to see those who live without access to clean water
We choose to ignore the children who live in high crime areas for whom simply walking to school is a danger
We blame poor young black men for being shot and killed by white men with power and privilege
We judge the poor people who work their asses off working 50 - 80 hours a week making minimum wage but cannot afford 1/10th of what we take for granted
We hold disdain for those very same poor people while they go blind because they still do not have access to health insurance and cannot afford cataract surgery, ignore cancer signs because they cannot afford the treatments, and experience ever worsening symptoms of HIV and other diseases because they cannot afford the prescription drugs
We spew disparaging remarks about people who are poor, saying things like "they have no skin in the game" because gawd forbid they should get Earned Income Credit and you see that as wrong because someone convinced you they are bad people (losers) who are costing you a fortune while you choose to ignore what the corporate and wealth structures in this country cost us and the world
We mourn over and express outrage over terrorists killing people in first world countries while turning a blind eye and ear to the millions of black- and brown-skinned humans being slaughtered at the same time

So maybe here's what we could do, if you don't mind. Maybe as a collective we could begin to both acknowledge what we do have and what others do not have. Maybe we could begin to let our hearts do a bit of thinking for us, dispense with the judgment of those who do not have what we have, and look out on our country and our world with an eye toward what we can do with what we have in order to effect change. Maybe we could acknowledge that we live in a racist, classist world (eh hem all of you from first world countries, this means you too, not just the U.S.) that cares more about money and/or white skin than poverty and/or dark skin.

Maybe, just maybe, we could show a little bit of gratitude, check our privilege, ask "what can I do?" AND "what have I done?" and open our eyes to the need for change instead of pretending it isn't happening and we have no responsibility in changing it. Finally, maybe when someone talks about it and you are tired of hearing it because it's just "too much" that's a sure sign you are part of the problem and need to make some changes. If you think it's "too much" for you, imagine how much it is to someone who doesn't enjoy white middle-class privilege.

Or, just click out of here, call me a pain in the ass bleeding heart, change the channel to some safe program that doesn't tell the truth, and go buy more shit you don't need.

Miracles Happen

2014-12-01T21:39:00.002-08:00

I did not write this, but I found it today and decided to use this space to share:

After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand
And chaining a soul;
And you learn that love doesn't mean security
And presents aren't promises;
And you begin to accept your defeat with your head up
And your eyes open ~
With the grace of a woman
Not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain
And futures have a way of falling down mid flight.
After a while
You learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So plant your own garden
And decorate your own soul
Instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers

And you learn that you really can endure

And you really are strong

And you really do have worth.

And you learn...

With every goodbye, you learn.

Anonymous

Through the knothole darkly

2014-10-23T12:41:00.001-07:00

It's a small space a knothole, but surprisingly capable of supporting a long dark journey. While knotholes look relatively harmless from an outside view, the close-up view reveals it as a hazardous place - a long tunnel with walls worn smooth as glacier ice and sheer edges sharp as an obsidian blade. These edges, constructed from lost love, betrayal, broken trust, deceit, false promises, lies, and hurtful words each bear their own poison of pain and despair.

The journey alone is hazardous, made more so by the lack of light and unsure footing. As you are pulled through, each memory slashes at you as you think back and wonder: how much was real? In the knothole you are caught up trying to think your way through logically, but then the emotion obstacles push you toward the brink, and the energy to avoid that deadly sharp edge is not available to you. You try anyway. You think "if I can understand, maybe I can avoid the hazards. Maybe if I can make sense of it, it will take less time." Not true in the knothole because in that space of slippery slopes you can't stop going over the same things, again and again...and again.

Deceit: Two people together, but each in a different relationship, one believing the relationship would last, that we would be together always. For the other a very specific end date, actually on a calendar, a fact kept hidden, for fear of "upsetting the apple cart." That is one of the sharpest edges, impossible thus far not to slash myself against that edge.

Betrayal and broken trust: Pursued relentlessly, across two countries and a continent, pretty words that say there is value and respect for a person's mind, opinions, behavior. Assurances that no matter what, nothing can ever change his mind. A diligent effort to instill love and trust and faith. You. Can. Trust. Me. Repeated promises of honesty. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

False promises and lies: I'm happy. I want you here. I love you. I want to be with you. We can be great together. But at some point, it shifts and changes. In the knothole one hopes to detect the shift. But it's dark and confusing in there, and less possible to know the truth when you are in pain than it is when living a false life that made you happy.

Hurtful words that are double-edged with pain and despair: Words that leave lasting scars with their reminders while deep inside the knothole that you weren't enough, and at the same time you were just too much. That the relationship was unwanted at some point, that he just didn't love you enough to want it, to talk, to try... to keep it alive. Because he finally told you he just didn't love you enough, and that thought is always there, stabbing and cutting and slicing.

Love lost: Love saved for a lifetime - a complete giving that was stored up for decades, waiting for the right person. Love let loose to be complete and total, because someone kind and funny, who always said the right thing and was seemingly different than all those that came before, showed you a soft place to land on a bed of promises, honesty, love, faith, hope, trust - and forever. Love shattered against the outer bark of an ancient tree that leads to a knothole from which it feels impossible to escape, with only one path out. A path through which no light enters because the darkness is in you, a darkness that swallows whatever light enters the knothole.

For this journey there is no flashlight, no ray of sunshine, no beam of hope. Just the act of moving through, darkly.

The broken heart of humankind

2014-10-01T22:50:00.002-07:00

When we think of the things that sadden us and break our hearts we separate them into compartments. The death of a loved one certainly is on that list. We will also find there the loss of a deep and meaningful friendship, along with a fight with a spouse, partner, sibling, or child - one that seems to be a rift torn deep into the edge of a canyon. Yes, that would be there, haunting us. On a larger scale we will find war and the death of multitudes present and accounted for when we call the heartbreak roll call, as well as poverty and the march toward the ever present destruction of civilizations. Despots that torture, soldiers that kill, and governments that lay waste make the list, for what is more heartbreaking than the ugliness of humanity? And let us not forget the anguish that comes with loss of a relationship. That is something that surely breaks our heart in slow motion.

Yes, we've all been through these things, personally or as witnesses, and we live through them and learn to move on. We may shift our focus to something less painful - maybe someone else's pain, making ours more tolerable. We put our best will and energy into stuffing, pretending, and ignoring, and eventually those efforts pay off. We agonize and fret, and if we are lucky find solace in the fact that this too will pass.We find our way through the knothole by changing the channel, taking a lot of deep breaths, redirecting our thoughts, shedding tears, or maybe just forcing our minds into a different direction. After all, we humans are a funny lot, with a vast capacity for repair and resilience in the face of despair, sadness, and pain.

These experiences will continue to exist on some level in the course of our lives - for some more than others, depending on age and circumstance, and we'll continue to find our way through, whether that looks like reconciliation or making peace with what is. We may not like it, but we do gather our strength and emotional wherewithal and say "it is time," because what lies at the end of the road - the thing that makes us stronger and fills in the holes of our bare naked and frightened soul - is being honest with ourselves first and foremost. Honest about what we can take, what we won't do, what we will do, and what we want. The healing begins when we package up the heartbreak and pack it away into its appropriate compartment and walk away, not from the experience, but from the pain.

And if we are very very still in our thoughts what we may find as we walk away is that on the way out we find a scrap of peace laying just there, on the floor. What we do to grow that scrap into a warm and comforting quilt is up to us.

Practice Random Beauty and Senseless Acts of Love

2014-09-30T14:20:00.001-07:00

I found a new yoga video from Ali Kamenova today and she shared a quote from her journal "Practice random beauty and senseless acts of love."

How lovely of a sentiment is that? Certainly our world could use more practice at practicing the positive! Imagine what it would mean if we did this. What could practicing random beauty mean? The possibilities are endless. It could mean planting a plant or plants in a place that is sad or worn out or neglected. What if we mow the neighbor's lawn or paint their fence as part of our own desire to beautify instead of just complaining about how it's bringing down the neighborhood? How about that litter you see? Be your own litter patrol and pick it up. There are myriad opportunities every day for us to practice physical beautification that has nothing to do with our physical self.

What about emotional beauty? What if we practiced being beautiful emotionally by not being angry, by being patient, by understanding that maybe emotional beauty is what will make the day brighter for us and those around us? Think of something you've seen that's made you think "that's a beautiful thing" and then strive for that in your life.

In our world today we have too little love for one another, for our world, for the things that surround us. Isn't the idea of a senseless act of love rather a grand thing? For those who think "why?" or "what is that?" I would say remember that the word "senseless" is what drives the beauty of such a thing. Your act can be stupid or foolish in the eyes of someone else, it can be meaningless to the person standing next to you yet carry meaning for the person, place, animal, or thing you are targeting. The idea is that it simply does not need to make sense, and no one else has to get it, but that it is an act of love matters to our world balance.

What if we set out to integrate these two things - random beauty and senseless acts of love - into our daily practice, consciously allowing them to guide our work, our play, our pleasure, our lives? How would our world look different?

This random beauty and senseless acts fit with my new peace-finding, calming mission, so I'll go first. You can follow if you like...

Enough

2014-09-25T21:59:00.000-07:00

Last week the iPhone 6 went on sale. It costs nearly $800 and people stood in line overnight to get their hands on one. These line standers were people who wanted it, not because the phone they have isn't fast enough or doesn't have enough memory or was old and didn't work but because of the status and prestige that comes with it. They wanted it because if they have that one additional cool piece of technology, maybe they’ll have enough to be happy, or at least content. But really, enough.

As I shot down the freeway the next day away from the place I thought was going to be my home, my car bursting at its proverbial seams with my belongings, leaving my boyfriend and his country, I had plenty of time to ponder this word… enough. What is enough? We know it applies to goods, especially for the capitalists among us. You need a new phone, a new car, a faster motorcycle, a new bigger home, a larger flatter TV. You neeeed these things. Then there’s time. Let’s not forget the old adage “there’s not enough time.” I’m too busy, I’m too tired, I don’t have enough vacation days, I didn't get my work done – all of these things relate to time and the fact that there just is not enough to satisfy your needs.

Aah. And then there’s money. No one ever has enough money. I’ll go on vacation when I have more money, I’ll get a divorce when I have more money, we’ll have babies when we have money. Of course we’ll happily make an exception for things and stuff we neeeed. Conversely, how many grip their money tighter when they think they might lose some of their money. We see daily examples of how the fear of not having enough money drives the decision to put the human aside in favor of the golden cow.

So because I had time to think during my drive south, what I thought about was how the idea of enough applies to people. Specifically, love – because doesn't so much of our existence revolve around this filament of a thought that we were told would make us feel like we are enough? I began thinking of how we seek a partner who makes us feel alive, happy, satisfied. One we may accidentally stumble upon who is momentarily enough that he or she makes us want to be better or different. Enough so that we are willing to commit to them in a way that we say things like “I think we can be perfect together, I’ll love you forever, I cannot imagine my life without you.” Concurrently, we apply the idea of enough to ourselves internally as a result of how we are on the receiving end of the above. How do we perceive our lives as partners, if not to be enough? Enough for them to want us to stay. Enough for us to want to stay. Enough for them to want to do things for and with us. Enough for them to want to do what they said they would do or think or be.

As part of an emotional waterspout of blue water and white foam that is the wild torrent of the wanting and being we seek, we attempt to both have and be enough. Predictably, that very often turns out exactly as well as an uncontrolled act of nature can, even in the face of mad love. When the waterspout dies out we find our emotions strewn about like debris. We see a landscape littered with truth and lies co-mingled in a way that we don’t understand and are not sure we can sort out, even though love is there under the surface.

All of that brings us back to this: is it enough? Is love enough to set it right and keep you on the path, or do you look at those scattered words, smile over those that you know to be true and move to a place of being thankful for the times that felt good and right and perfect? Is love enough for you to find forgiveness in being let go without so much as a conversation?

The truth is I don’t know, and I’m not sure who does. But here’s what I think and am willing to guess: We gather whatever resources we have at our disposal: love, laughter, knowledge, being – and we work really hard to move from thinking “he let me go, so he didn't love me enough” to “I truly have enough in my life, and for that I’m grateful and happy.” If we are lucky we find enough balance to make it all work , and we move in concert with those things that are good and right. And we find peace.

But what do I know. I'm still trying to figure out where my wine went.

Peace….

Soft places, forever, and peace...

2014-09-14T06:33:00.001-07:00

As I lay awake at 3:30 this morning, I was thinking of my life changes and what I need to fit into those changes. Professionally, I work in some hard fields and deal with some ugly stuff, and it's work that really feeds my soul. Since I love my work and have no intention of changing my focus any time soon, a soft place to land is important in my life. How my soft place to land looks, though, is part of what kept me awake. Surely it's in many ways the same for most of us: a nice place to call home, some flowers, good food, good wine. Maybe a cat. Probably a turtle (yeah, I know those aren't soft, but they are peaceful). Then there's the human factor: someone you can talk to, someone who can listen and understand, a smile, a touch, friends, love (different kinds), family. For some people who are easier to live with and love, that soft place also means love in the form of a relationship. Maybe the promise of forever. Or maybe three years. Whatever.. I'm old enough to understand that words have limited and ever changing meanings.

So back to the change thing... Finding peace is not a single action, but a process that spans differing times and actions. Being alone is a really important part of that, and I've got the alone thing down to a pretty fine art. You have to be able to be alone before you can really be happy I think. With that, there's gratitude. That's been a tougher lesson for me, but with the help of some friends I've come to learn the value of expressing and feeling gratitude and what it really means. Not that "oh my god, I have to come up with three things to post on Facebook for my gratitude posting today!" sort of gratitude, but the sort that you sit with and feel deeply. That's one of the things I've begun to change in my life - really seeing and feeling what I'm grateful for, including not just what I have had, but what is coming. Another tough lesson for me, and the one that takes me to the blog change.

This new blog may give you whiplash because it will be a reflection of things that I think about - from the personal to the political and places in between. I don't expect everyone who reads it to agree, but neither do I require your acceptance or agreement, so there's that...