One, two.....
I focused on my breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. If I could control that, hopefully my mind would follow.
Three, four....
Counting sometimes calmed me. The rhythmic sound of the numbers. Up to ten and back to one. Divert my attention away from my racing pulse.
Five, six....
I wouldn't always feel this way. It would pass, leaving my body as quickly as it began. This is temporary, this is harmless.
Seven, eight....
Another wave hit me. Washing over me and making it hard to take a breath.
Nine, ten....
Breathe. I should breathe. In slowly, hold, release. If I could control that hopefully my heart would follow.
Ten, nine....
I didn't know how much more I could take. Fear was starting to take a stronger hold than I could fight off.
Eight, seven....
I closed my eyes and silently begged. I begged for strength, serenity. I begged for this to pass, to feel normal again.
Six, five....
How much longer could my body sustain this state? I was exhausted and shaky.
Four, three....
I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. I diverted my attention away from my head and into my feet. Slowly feeling every ounce of my body starting to relax.
Two, one....
I focused on my breathing. Slowly in, slowly out. If I could control that, hopefully my mind would follow.
Two: 10.21.13
Twice
Twice
in my life
I
have been in shock
and
carried myself home.
The
first after a collision
on
a back road in Guatemala—
the
mirror in the bathroom
held
the familiar blue of tiles,
my
eyes, my shirt; the stain
dried
brown over my left breast;
the
blood on my arms
not
my
own.
The
second came
after
she told me
what
he did
to
the red-haired girl.
We
sat on the bed cross-legged, empty
tea
mugs bracing open
the
arrowhead space
between
our thighs and calves.
“There's
something I need
to
tell you,” she grabbed my hand,
pressed
it to her sternum—
our
heartbeats, suddenly wild, collided
at
the crux of my elbow,
“it's
about your ex.”
I
believed her
account,
passed down
from
the girl who lived
it
only
months before.
the
blood
not
my
own.
*This piece has previously appeared in Issue 2 of Broad! Magazine
Two: 10.20.2013
For pairs
And for pairings
Of care
And for caring
To share
And of sharing
To endear
And be endearing
To be fair,
Continue faring
To be there
And be bearing.
But for me
And for you
(My one plus
Your one)
We are One
Made from Two.
And for pairings
Of care
And for caring
To share
And of sharing
To endear
And be endearing
To be fair,
Continue faring
To be there
And be bearing.
But for me
And for you
(My one plus
Your one)
We are One
Made from Two.
Magic: 10.16.13
4.
I look up
and it's all around
in the in-breath
in the out-breath
in the way the light hits just
there
right there
and I wonder if it's okay to cry
but I laugh instead
at the resplendence of this absurdly beautiful day
at the landscape that I adore
at the knowing that everything will be okay
if only I will let it
so I am quiet
listening for a sound that will still me
Canada geese (and he asks me why they are in a line instead of a V)
yes, there
and I marvel at their purposeful elegance
wishing hard that I could join them
just for a moment
to be part of the collective
to feel the calling and follow it without question
without question
there
right there
is the magic
Magic 10.15.2013
There are things I can’t control
Things that just happen
Things I have to
Learn to live with
Or things that just consume
Me
Things beyond the scope of my ability
To change
Or are there?
Am I actually
In control
Allowing these things
To consume
Me
Choosing to learn to live with them
Instead of stopping them before they start
Things that well up inside
Direct results of festering feelings
Allowing things to rise to a toxic level
Slowly start to seep out
Into everyday life
I will no longer allow
Such things to affect
Me
I will no longer allow
Such people to affect
Us
I will no longer allow
Their actions to create
Feelings inside
Me
That fester and rise
To a toxic level
A realization
That if I do not let it matter
If I do not let these things
Become things
I will not have to learn to live with them
This thinking
This thinking
This
Revelation
Is magic.
Magic: 10.14.2013
I was having a bad day. I mean a really bad day. It started by waking up at 3am from a nightmare. In the dream there was an evil government takeover. It was up to me to save the world. All by my lonesome. I was scared, but there was no one else to do the job. So I summoned up my strength and gave it my best shot. But I got caught. The new regime didn't take kindly to those who believed in things like peace, love, a healthy planet and a colorful world. The dream was all shades of gray and sanitized stainless steel. I was put in a torture chamber where they hooked up wires to both of my temples. They were targeting my brain. They kept turning up the electricity. The pressure and pain was mounting between my ears. I couldn't take it anymore. My skull was going to explode! I started to scream...one long scream originating deep in my belly and gathering momentum as it rose up and then out my vocal chords. This is how I woke up. I had only been asleep for 2 hours. I still had the whole night ahead and I was afraid to shut my eyes again. Finally, I did. Tossing and turning, I fell back to sleep. But when morning came, I was exhausted. I awoke with a metallic taste in my mouth and a heaviness in my chest.
I made my usual coffee in the stovetop espresso. But before it made it to my cup, it landed all over the stove. Sometimes it is difficult to make coffee before having coffee. Especially when the weight of saving the world is on your already tight shoulders.
Yoga. That will help. But because I had to make a second stovetop espresso I was behind schedule. I hate being late for yoga. It conjures up a time in California when I arrived after a class had started. I felt terrible and terribly self-conscious as the instructor stopped class and waited for me to get situated. She then said in a sickly sweet voice, "Rushing is a form of violence." And then it was back to inhale....exhale....downward (in the)dog(house). Here, my yoga teacher just greets me in his normal voice and makes sure there is space to put my mat down. But I still feel badly about coming in late. This day I was already out of sorts in mind and body and it was one of the rare times I left feeling more sore and crickety than when I came in. Sigh.
I stopped at my PO Box to get my mail. Bills and a disturbing, worrisome letter. One where I couldn't help but wonder if I am a good enough human being. Ugh. I think I'll move to Australia. That last sentence is actually a reference to a book. A very important one in my lexicon. Anyone out there in 'blogland' know what it is? Maybe I'll tell you at the end of this piece, but it will be written backwards or upsidedown or in code. Maybe I will offer a prize if you answer correctly in the blog comments. Or maybe I will let it remain a mystery. But I digress. Back to my bad day. I mean my really bad day.
Well, actually, it was looking up. If there is one thing that can lift my spirits it's German wheel. I was going to meet my training partner at the high school gym in Wilmington. Since she works there, we are able to train on off hours. I had just enough time to stop at home and grab a very quick something to eat. But somehow my quick something turned into a longer-than-expected something. Scheiße! I had to leave NOW!
Wilmington is twenty miles west of Brattleboro, up and over Hogback mountain. It's a beautiful drive but I was too worried about being late, worried if I was a compassionate enough human being, worried about the drought of paid work and my upcoming bills, worried about my aging parents on the other side of the country, worried if I have been a good enough daughter, worried I was chasing an illusory dream that would never come to fruition, worried about the consequences and that no one ever thinks about Fukashima or the BP oil disaster, worried I'll never find love again, worried that my nightmare was really a premonition of things to come, worried about getting old and ending up alone, worried that I am worrying too much and not living life, worried at my contribution to global climate change as I chugged up and over the mountain--all that beauty rushing past me and my monkey mind. And then I was worried about something more immediate. The flashing lights behind me.
That was it. I was defeated. But in a last ditch effort I said a prayer. Please, please please...for once give me a break. I can not afford a ticket right now. I mean I really can't. Not too long ago a friend on Facebook posted (boasted?) how she always is able to talk her way out of tickets. She's never been written up despite all the times she's been pulled over. I can do that, right? And I did say a prayer?
The officer was young. It was the same rigmarole. Despite my feeling of doom I tried to be positive, cooperative and friendly. I was beaming subliminal messages to him. Have pity on me!!! But of course it didn't work. He wrote me up. When he handed me the ticket and I saw how much it was for, I just started crying. Uncontrollably. He hovered outside my window.
"Ma'am, are you Ok?"
I bristled at Ma'am. I know it's irrational, but it just makes me feel a thousand years old.
"I'm...just...having a......bad day."
I'm trying to talk but it's coming out in gulps of tearful breaths.
"A really baaaaaaaad daaaay...." (Sobbing ensues).
Pause. Silence. Except for my crying, shaking body.
"Well I don't mean to add to it."
I can't believe he is saying that. For a micro-second there is hope. He'll take the ticket back and rip it up in front of my eyes. My prayer answered. A break! I will drive the speed limit from now on. I will appreciate the beauty passing by my car window.
But instead he gets stern and tells me to pull myself together before driving and then leaves.
I am really late now. But all I can do is sit in the car and cry. I finally do pull myself together and finish the last leg to the high school. When I walk in I am a wreck. I'm sobbing and apologizing and crying and explaining. And I really do feel defeated. No fight left inside. It's as if all the doubts and fears and failures I've been trying to keep at bay have burst the dam. My training partner, Jobi, just hugs me. I finally quiet down. She puts my wheel together while I sit in the corner and play my ukelele. It's the only thing that seems to comfort me in the moment. I feel too fragile to get on the wheel. I don't want to get injured.
Finally I feel ready to practice. I'm extra careful. And just do what I can. I start to feel better. My 'rock to standing up on top of the wheel' goes well. With German wheel it is all about timing, technique and feeling the movement, being in concert with the apparatus. Jobi is there to spot me. Each time I repeat the move and lift myself to the top, I feel my spirits rise.
I am not a wreck when we are done. I dismantle the wheel and put it in my car. We are ready to go but decide to use the bathroom before leaving. I go into the stall. It's my habit to check the toilet seat as I really prefer to sit on a dry surface. I take some TP and wipe it down. I sit. I pee. I think about the turn of events. I think about how grateful I am to have a supportive friend. That although I have felt miserably alone at times and far away from friends and family on the West coast, I do have people around me, here, who care about me. I don't have to shoulder everything alone. I'm strong, but there is another strength. A strength in being able to receive. I don't have to torture myself.
I turn around to flush the toilet and do a double-take. On the toilet seat is a bright, shiny penny. I just blink my eyes and stare at it. Whaaat? How did that get there? I know it wasn't there before. Jobi is in the next stall.
"Ummm, Jobi? Something weird just happened."
I tell her. She doesn't seem too fazed by it. I am though. That penny was definitely not there before!!!!! She just says matter-of-factly, "Well, maybe it means your luck is changing."
As I wash my hands I am still perplexed.
Outside we hug goodbye and she leaves. It's a warm day and my window is down. When I open the door there is a piece of paper on my seat. What is it with things appearing on seats today? I pick it up and it is a check. A check for half the amount of my speeding ticket. I just stare at it as tears well up in my eyes. I can't believe it. I am completely overcome by this act of kindness and generosity. This feeling that I am not alone in my struggles. This gesture is priceless. But I can't take her money. I call Jobi on her cell. I try to give it back. But she won't allow it. "Well," I tell her, "at least you should keep this lucky penny. I'll save it for you." I offer it before I realize she may not want a shiny penny that my heinie sat on.
The whole way home I drive the speed limit. Cars are passing me like crazy but I don't care. I take in the natural beauty. I even stop at the overlook...the Green Mountains stretching for miles and miles. I breathe in. I breathe out. Nothing has changed and everything has changed. My heart is cracked open. One person can make a difference. Today the world saved me.
***yaddabyrevdoogonelbirrohelbirretehtdnarednaxela
Magic: 10.13.2013
There is a place. It's a place I've been, and it's really not a physical place, but a feeling one gets when the universe synchronizes. It's a noticing of things coming together, elements aligning, and sharing presence within the collective of prescient minds and energies.
Emotionally unguarded communication, verbally or non, taps in to a spirit of openness. The light magic holds no room for deception. The barriers of personal doubt and everyday hangups melt away, leaving in their wake nothing but truth. When channeling truth, one taps into the universal rhythm.
My first experiential understanding of the universal "all" or "one" came through shared experience of nonverbal communication, or telepathy, in a musical setting. A shared visceral focus on the goal of creation, with thousands of minds focused subconsciously or consciously, opens the ability of the collective mind to achieve.
I was a freshman in college, basically an innocently raised kid from the suburbs, attending a Big East University bordered by a serious North Jersey ghetto on one side and the filthy rich neighborhoods on the other. So as I rolled down to this concert at another major East Coast University several hours drive away, in the company of newfound "friends" attempting to get me to pledge their fraternity, I was unaware that the magic even was what it was when it began to manifest.
My obvious discomfort with my travel companions was fairly immediately remedied, as what seemed at first glance coincidence became the standard for the rest of the night into the wee hours. We stopped at the first big intersection after the main gate of this college attended by over 20,000 students each year and what do I see? My best friend from my New Hampshire high school's crappy Honda Accord wagon pull a left turn right in front of us in the heart of Pennsylvania. We followed him, honking and waving to grab his attention. It turns out he was not only going to the same concert as I that night, he was an attendee of this university, with a place for me to crash, food to eat, and plenty of fun times to show me while I was visiting. This was a totally chance meeting, remember, but I was unable to escape my uncomfortability afforded by the people who had brought me to the show. I followed my friend without knowing how I would get a hold of my ride (in the days before cell phones), no less return to New Jersey for classes two days hence.
Though I still though this was coincidence at the time, surrendering to the flow put me into initial touch with the spirit of the universal all. Continuing this path into the evening brought a much clearer lesson. It has to do with using the creative force within to directly and immediately affect reality.
...to be continued...
Emotionally unguarded communication, verbally or non, taps in to a spirit of openness. The light magic holds no room for deception. The barriers of personal doubt and everyday hangups melt away, leaving in their wake nothing but truth. When channeling truth, one taps into the universal rhythm.
My first experiential understanding of the universal "all" or "one" came through shared experience of nonverbal communication, or telepathy, in a musical setting. A shared visceral focus on the goal of creation, with thousands of minds focused subconsciously or consciously, opens the ability of the collective mind to achieve.
I was a freshman in college, basically an innocently raised kid from the suburbs, attending a Big East University bordered by a serious North Jersey ghetto on one side and the filthy rich neighborhoods on the other. So as I rolled down to this concert at another major East Coast University several hours drive away, in the company of newfound "friends" attempting to get me to pledge their fraternity, I was unaware that the magic even was what it was when it began to manifest.
My obvious discomfort with my travel companions was fairly immediately remedied, as what seemed at first glance coincidence became the standard for the rest of the night into the wee hours. We stopped at the first big intersection after the main gate of this college attended by over 20,000 students each year and what do I see? My best friend from my New Hampshire high school's crappy Honda Accord wagon pull a left turn right in front of us in the heart of Pennsylvania. We followed him, honking and waving to grab his attention. It turns out he was not only going to the same concert as I that night, he was an attendee of this university, with a place for me to crash, food to eat, and plenty of fun times to show me while I was visiting. This was a totally chance meeting, remember, but I was unable to escape my uncomfortability afforded by the people who had brought me to the show. I followed my friend without knowing how I would get a hold of my ride (in the days before cell phones), no less return to New Jersey for classes two days hence.
Though I still though this was coincidence at the time, surrendering to the flow put me into initial touch with the spirit of the universal all. Continuing this path into the evening brought a much clearer lesson. It has to do with using the creative force within to directly and immediately affect reality.
...to be continued...
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