Moving Into Fear (or Basic Buddhism for Skiers) March 24, 2012

Skiing has taught me one thing with certainty – resistance only increases the chance of receiving the opposite outcome than I intended.

For those of you unenlightened non-skiing people, here is a brief ski lesson: the front end (tip)  is the steering end, the back-end (tail) acts as a gas pedal.  Regardless of my young friends tendencies to straight-line it, skiing is about making turns to get downhill.  In order to make move or make the ski turn we must pressure the front end by shifting our weight forward – and thus, downhill.

This seems easy in writing, but when faced with a steep slope (whatever that means to us personally), the intuitive response is not to lean forward, but sit back in avoidance and concern for our safety.  As we resist the downward velocity of the slope, we increase speed (weight on tails) while losing steering ability (lack of weight on tips).  When we feel it is becoming more difficult to “stay in control”, we resist further, losing the momentum that carries us from turn to turn and so we increase unnecessary movements with our bodies. Resisting  the inevitable (we choose this downhill sport!) we work twice as hard, use more muscle, and have less fun to get down the hill  than if we had simply trusted our ability to make each necessary turn.

In our fear, justified or not, we completely lose connection to flow.  As we humans are uncomfortable with a loss of control, we tend to do one of two things: give up, determining that it is not right for us or, we continue to flail our way downhill, determined to “do this” no matter what, using extra energy in the process, risking injury and losing all sense of enjoyment.  We blame our difficulties on the conditions (too icy/not the right time) , circumstances (there was a snowboarder in the way/I didn’t have enough money) ,  or random half truths (my feet hurt/she was a bitch). Really, we are resisting leaning into that which scares us but is nevertheless required to move through on our way towards our goals.

And what are we afraid of? Failure. Risk. Getting hurt. Looking stupid. Going out of our comfort zone. Losing control.  The list goes on.

As if these were all things we have dominion over in the first place.

Life is scary.  Personally, I seem to attract drama like poop does flies. Poverty, unemployment, illness, stupid people; you name it. But when I was told I had cancer, the complete lack of control over that diagnosis made me stop thinking I could/should try to direct everything my life. Instead I began to learn to accept that life simply is what it is – just like the mountain.  My choice is to engage or not, and how I want to do that is up to me. My reactions to situations are often the only thing I can control. This shift in perception makes it easier stay on tip of my skis and stop resisting the flow of life. I must stop worrying about what might happen, and stay present in what is happening to move toward my goals.

Flow doesn’t mean that is always smooth, but there is a sense of direction, purpose and intention that seems right somehow. In skiing, flow is the glorious sensation of sliding through silky snow even though you occasionally still getting bounced around. Each turn follows the next with relative ease until you stop at the bottom laughing, and say to your buddies, “man, that was SWEEEEEET!”

Skiing teaches me about life on and off the hill. There was nearly a foot of relatively good snow when I went up this week to ski off a bad situation at work. I was faced with a choice that either way was likely to result in unemployment or unhappiness. I had a headache for a week over it. Unemployment is scary and it seemed stupid to draw a line about something that was relatively trivial, but my goal is living a more authentic, heart centered life in which I do not compromise on what is important to me. As I argued with myself over every angle of the situation, I could feel myself flailing, losing control, and working far too hard.  I was using up valuable energy trying to stop forward momentum,  because I was afraid to move into my fears about unemployment and what I thought it said about me.

And so I leaned forward.

It isn’t comfortable at first.

I have my moments as a great skier, but I am often freakishly forcing turn after turn by over-rotating my shoulders and hips; hopping my feet and flinging my arms around to make it happen.  I arrive at the bottom exhausted, but somewhere in each run, there is usually at least one or two linked turns where I was simply “in it” and I get back on the chair.

I often make skiing – and life – more difficult than it needs to be in my lack of trust. And that is what it is….learning to trust that by not struggling with the struggle (as my friend Carole says) you will arrive at your destination with much less effort.  Control is an illusion – what will happen, will happen, and our flailing only increases the chance of it happening badly.

Skiing is not an easy sport, and neither is life, but by committing to my intentions, I get the opportunity to experience relative effortlessness sometimes. That feeling of being in the flow, is the most glorious feeling ever. It  keeps me addicted to this ridiculously expensive sport and to life in general.

As I sit at my computer writing, now newly unemployed, I am curiously observing flow around me.  It is a bit bumpy and there is that “whoa, who….aaaah, WHOAH!” sensation I have on the hill when it feels like things are about to get dicey.  But I also have some of that sensation of floating along and I am committed to not trying to steer this from the backseat. I keep humming to myself a skiing version of Dori’s song  from “Finding Nemo”: “Just keep turning, just keep turning!!”.

I know when I get to the bottom of this run, I will jump around and say: “THAT was so friggen AWESOME!!!!  Did you see when I almost lost it and then I pulled it together and it was like……YEAH! LETS DO IT AGAIN!”

 

(this seems to be a theme with me…if it is for you too check out my posts Resistance is Futile  and I am Committed to This…I think)

Language of Love February 12, 2012

“I love you” I said as we snuggled on the couch watching movies.

The evening suddenly took on the feel of a family gathering where Jr. drops the F-bomb in front of Grandma.

We had known each other for years before we started dating and few months into our “couple-hood”  I had no doubt that what I felt was love. But instead of completing the romantic moment, Neil looked at me and said, “It is going to be a while before I can say that”.

I had no way of knowing that more than 5 years later – and having lived together for most of it – I still would not have heard those words from him.

And, what is even more surprisingly, I am mostly okay with it.

Neil has more than the normal allotment of stereotypical male communication issues. On the other hand, words are really important to me and I am definitely a communicator. I’ve always wondered why in the world he chose me – a writer who finds it easy to voice my feelings and is deeply passionate and outspoken about a million different things when he so clearly is…NOT.

Neil is very reserved and my zest for engaging life to the fullest must push his buttons in addition to our opposing communication styles. But even in that awkward conversation about love, he has never shied away from me. In fact, his whole-hearted commitment to me when I must drive him crazy, is part of how I know he feels the words he finds so difficult to utter.

So, I keep saying “I love you” and he routinely responds: “Why now?”

Even though asking “why now” is probably intimacy avoidance at its finest, it has given me a deeper understanding of my own layers of relationship and connection. I am sure Neil doesn’t intend to come across as an emotional ascetic – maybe he is learning what love is. It seems that I certainly am.

My best guy friend was thrown off when a girl he was dating said she loved him. He called me in a panic: “I don’t know what to do! It is too early! I like her a lot but I don’t know where this is going and it is too much right now”.

“I tell you I love you all the time and I have loved you for years. What is the big deal with this?” I ask.

“It is different.” He answered. But I wondered why? Was he worried that that statement of love was full of expectation? Ownership? Exclusivity? What do we mean when we tell someone “I love you”? What do I mean when I say it to Neil?

“I love you,” I say. We are playing golf, the sun is shining and there is an eagle flying overhead. My score is pretty good for once, the friends we are playing with are laughing and everything is glorious. “Why now?” Neil asks. Because we get to share this moment. We enjoy each other’s company and seek it out instead of finding it tiresome; we have common things to laugh at and do together. In our playtime I get to see us as friends, not just who we are in our relationship.

“I love you”. We are watching the finals on a TV talent show in which the performance has been breathtaking, and I look over to see a tear running down his face. “Why now?” Because he feels for these people, for their hard work, for the heart they put into what they do. He appreciates the beauty, lets himself be moved and doesn’t pretend otherwise. His sensitivity and innocence are why I am with him. I am reminded of what a good man he is.

“I love you.” I am on a hospital gurney getting ready for surgery to remove cancer from my body.  Things will never be the same, life is uncertain and I am terrified. “Why now?” he says ever so softly. Because love is all I have to hold onto. I need to hear something in my voice besides fear, and need to know that I part of something more than cancer. Through my love I remind myself of who I am and how much bigger life is than this illness.

“I love you” I say with a sigh. Frustration edges my voice. We are having a disagreement that stems from his inability to communicate and my tendency to make up for it by over doing it. “Why now?” He doesn’t believe me – I can hear it in his voice. I don’t blame him for his doubts, but the truth is that even when I am mad I wouldn’t chose to be anywhere else (or at least not for long!). Either one of can chose to leave, but instead we slog through the tough times together knowing there is more than just this moment. I appreciate his willingness to keep trying and am grateful that we respect for each other too much to demand that our individual position is the only correct one.

We are a society that throws “I love you” around a lot. We say it lightheartedly to people we barely know, toss it around when we are happy, and end conversations with it habitually. I’ve slipped up and said it as I am hanging up the phone when it was clearly inappropriate and not meant. Too many times in the past I have said it without thinking about what it means. Often what I intended by the words was felt as something different to the person hearing it. That doesn’t mean I should say it less – in fact, post-cancer, I probably say it more than I ever have. I just am conscious of what it means to me when I do.

When I pay attention to saying “I love you” to anyone – especially Neil, I come to a deeper understanding of what is going on inside me moment to moment. It challenges me to use language that is more descriptive to build a fuller picture of my feelings and fill in the gaps so that the person I am addressing understands what “I love you” means for me. By doing so, I give them space to experience the intent instead of getting tangled up in the baggage. And more importantly, I am better able to speak from my heart when I know what really resides there.

“Why Now?” may very well be a stalling or diversionary tactic from a man emotionally tied in knots, but through the untangling of my own I have become a better person. As I discover why I love, I am better able to actually DO the emotion of love.

And love is something we all could get better giving AND receiving.

Running Shoes July 4, 2011

My running shoes are sitting by the front door. Not my real ones – those are still sitting in the closet collecting dust. These are the shoes that magically appear and starting screaming RUN! when change is in the air leaving me feeling out of control and desperately seeking solid ground. Like a deer fleeing a forest fire, rather than hunker down and wait out the storm, I start double-knotting my shoe laces in preparation. It is in these moments of uncertainty that we have the greatest opportunity to practice having faith.

After observing my real life soap opera over the years, I can see the warning signs of imminent change:  it all starts with the overwhelming feeling that thing something is coming – like waiting for Christmas, but not sure if it is good or something else.  My dreams are full of momentum then suddenly they shift and all the things that scare me come creeping. Tears for every reason are followed by those for no reason that move into an alarming silence. Deep, expectant, interior silence where every thought echoes and I am overwhelmed by the stillness of my inner landscape. Finally I can’t stand it and I get the itch…a burning desire to run in any direction to anywhere – as long as it means movement and bridges the gap between what has been and some other time in the future.

Often I have run from people, places and situations that have become stagnant, seeking relief from the insistent urge towards a more fulfilling life.  Much of the time is was the correct course of action, but I have also picked fights, made bad decisions and burned bridges that I should not have simply because I needed to regain control of something in order to halt the free-fall into the unknown.  As I feel the energy shift inside me towards creating space for new growth the real-life crows in my garden (mythical harbingers of change as well as opportunistic death feeders)  stay unnaturally close to me as I weed.  Their insistent hoarse cawing and general blackness make me edgy as if they are waiting to guide me into a timeless place of transformation whether I want to go or not.

Regardless of my deep spiritual belief that change is a necessary and natural part of the wheel of life turning, the in-between place of what was and what is to come is a place of fear and uncertainty.  It is in these moments of deep uncertainty that I feel most alone and helpless, wanting to DO anything to wiggle out of the feeling. Even when the upcoming changes may be good, my lack of control regarding all that must shift to make way for the new is hard to swallow. When the wheel is turning regardless of my actions, it is hard for me to breathe much less to stay still, yet to overcome the urge to self-destruct I must do just that. The more irresistible the urge to run, the more important it is that I choose another “action” path and have faith.

I am not talking about staying in bad relationships or situations – if you are in one now and are able to pick yourself up and run, DO IT before hopelessness immobilizes you again. I am talking about those times when there is nothing major “wrong”, but there is also nothing major “right”. Or those times when things are okay, but your skin crawls with the need to be more of the puppeteer and less of the puppet in your own life. Perhaps you know that things need to change…that they ARE going to change…but you are not sure how, or when, or why. Maybe you took the steps to shift your life and now that things have you are left wondering what kind of monster you just let loose. New anything…jobs, locations, and opportunities stemming from both “bad” and “good” create anxiety as we move from the usual into the unknown and we often find ourselves resisting or working against the flow as we try to regain our footing.  As we struggle to feel more secure, we could be using our energy more productively by listening to Bob Marley’s advice to have faith and “don’t worry about a thing, ‘cause every little thing is gonna be alright”.

Faith is a big word full of religious connotations that somehow have always been connected to a lack of power and personal control in my mind. Years growing up around various conservative churches drilled into my skull that faith is about believing in the impossible and improbable  without question and relinquishing all control of our lives to an invisible being that could only be clearly heard by a chosen few with really bad hair. But several years ago I found a sticker that remains on the water bottle I use every day that shifted my thinking about passively giving over your life to the unknown.  It says: FAITH:VERB.

And, of course, the simplest definition of a verb is “an action word”.

Duh — of course faith is an active thing. But how often do we all say we have “faith” when we really have that tone of “oh my god, I HOPE this is going to work out because I really don’t know” in our voice? For many of us faith has become a THING – a noun – something that is. It has become something that exists outside of us and can be quite elusive when we are troubled. It has become something we think we have (or don’t have) not something we DO. Indeed, our ability to actively DO faith seems to be the first thing we drop when we get scared and start our personal version of clutching at the strings of control.

In those times when things are most uncertain, having faith is the only thing TO do as we deal with the uncertainty of our temporary blindness. And what are we supposed to have faith in????   First, simply that we will know what we need to know, when we need to know it and all will be revealed to us in time. When we begin to make rash decisions that are contradictory to our truest selves because we are grasping at control we can prevent the next best thing from easily happening to/for us.  When we react to our own fears instead of sitting in the uncomfortable in-between place of not knowing, we use up our energy spinning in circles instead of getting ready to act on the positive things coming our way. By practicing faith that the world will still rotate without us having our finger on the control button, we begin to see our discomfort for what it is….fear that things are changing and that our personal desires and plans are going to be forgotten in the storm. Fear that the “bad” patterns will keep repeating if we don’t hold on tight. Fear that everything will be different, that we won’t get to choose, and that we can’t see the right path. Uncertain about our future we feel it is only us, not something greater, that is watching out for us and we feel alone and small.

And the most important part of faith is knowing that this is not true..

If you ask me when I feel the itch to run if I have faith that everything will be okay in the end, and if I truly believe I was a beloved child of the Universe, I would tell you yes, of course. But that would not necessarily stop my failing around as I tried to figure out a course of action that would result in feeling like I was driving this life again. And this “child” of Universe would certainly still have thought that she knows better than any higher power when she was stressed! How is it that if I cannot see around this particular corner in my life, I still think I can choose an action that will result a positive outcome? What is all this energy I use to run, make demands on the universe and generate a river of tears actually gaining me? When I don’t know what to do, or what is going to happen, why am I so hell-bent on believing that I will have the answers if I only beat my head against the wall hard enough???  Where did that part about believing it is all going to be okay in the end disappear to???

Regardless of how contradictory it seems when our fight or flight mechanism is going crazy because things are up in the air, we need to sit in our itchy, squirminess until we are clearer about which way to proceed. When we can feel change in the air like the coming of the rain, remember that we must open our hands in order to accept a gift. A clenched fist can neither let go of what it doesn’t need, or receive something precious. And our desire to be the one in control is most definitely a clenched fist – and frequently a clenched jay and stomach too!

Breathe. Open your heart to the very real possibility that everything is going to okay and know that you are on the exact path that gets you right where you are supposed to be. Stop fretting as if there was some way you can speed the transition from here to the future. Take the time to rest your spirit and wait until the way is clearer. Be kind to yourself when you are feeling powerless and know that vision is achieved by observing not doing. Resist the urge to think that whatever we might do in this deeply uncomfortable moment is a better choice than listening for further instructions.

Regardless of your personal belief in a higher power or divine being, take comfort knowing that everything evolves out of chaos. Allow yourself – and the universe – to sort through the endless possibilities for your life and create room for good things to enter.  When you fret that change has brought bad things in the past and that you HAVE to stay in control so that bad doesn’t happen again….consider the possibility that maybe letting go is exactly what is called for. Maybe you really need to just get out of your own way.  I know I need to get out of mine.

Use faith as a bridge to get you from this moment of uncertainty to the place where things seem more settled. Every little thing WILL be alright. Pack up your imaginary running shoes …or better yet, use your real ones them for what they are made for and create some physical momentum to eat up the anxiety while you wait for the rest of life to catch up.

Enter the Dragon PART ONE May 12, 2011

It is a hard thing to communicate what is closest to the  heart and as much as anyone I often struggle with putting words to paper.  While I have written about body image here, I have  only touched the surface of how deeply traumatized I, and other young women, are at the loss of a breast.  Our breasts are such a revered part of womanhood, that losing one leaves us feeling less sexual, less feminine and thoroughly just  LESS. Regardless of the personal work one does around the issue, daily interactions  leave us back pedaling and struggling with what we KNOW deep down inside vs. what  we are being shown everywhere else. How we feel about ourselves internally and how we see ourselves is  in the mirror is often warped by society, our  histories and  fears. Regardless of how we project ourselves in the day to day world, these  insecurities follow us around and shape us without our intention.  The past 2  ½ years have been a daily emotional work out when I look at myself in the mirror trying to absorb, accept and get over  what has been done to my body in order to survive.  Everything about how I walked in the world changed when they cut off my breast.  It wasn’t intentional that I changed…I wanted to be the same as before… but the suddenness of diagnosis, the ensuing  trauma, and the loss of a piece of my sexuality took its toll.  While I lost less then I gained, a piece of self confidence/self perception was gone that I felt I would never gain back.

Most women who have a mastectomy these days have a smallish scar in an even line across their chest.  Many are still able to keep their nipple and surrounding areola so that reconstruction is more natural looking.  Most younger women choose to pursue reconstruction fairly quickly and while the new breast is not the same as the old, at least it is there.  Not so with me.  I had so much cancer in me that they took everything on my right side, right down to the muscle, damaging nerves as they scraped away tissue. While it initially looked good and I was surprised at how small the incision was, in the end, my surgical wound wouldn’t heal  – my body rejected the stitches  and I was left with a gaping hole in my chest for weeks. From a tidy simple line following careful surgery, it turned into a gnarly scar tissue filled gash.  The moment that healed, I started radiation which again didn’t go as planned and left scaring and discoloration from third degree burns from my armpit across and down my ribcage.  Needless to say all of this contributed to me not wanting to do any more surgeries out of fear of the side effects. Besides, the damage had already been done and nothing would make it look better.  No matter how much time I put into the emotional and physical healing of my body it is still difficult to cope with when I see myself in the mirror. Of course, this is all my own perception of what I see – it is probably not as bad as I think it is – but how I feel about myself is all that matters.

I have tried to get over it, tried to accept it and tried to be bigger than what I look like.  And, mostly,   I have.  Facing that gash every day I have learned so much about myself, about how I grew up feeling about my body and the results of abuse and our hyper sexualized society. I have observed the way I have changed, the way I have held back, and how different I feel about my physical self now that I can no longer claim a standard of “normal” attractiveness.  I have written, thought, prayed about and explored the issues around healing the physical and emotional wounds that cancer opened up for me.  The irony of having my surgical wound heal so slowly is not is not lost on me as I still struggle with self-acceptance in the face of the amazing power and strength I have shown.

In the end I realized that I get to chose how I see myself, regardless of the visual evidence left in the aftermath of disaster.  I do not have to be sad, embarrassed, ashamed or angry.  I don’t have to force myself to accept the unacceptable.

So, I began to think about what it would take for me to feel good about what I saw in the mirror.  I certainly did not need to recreate a breast – I am over the whole thing about that particular body part being  important and I have given enough time to cancer.  But I can’t stand the scar…I can’t stand having to see the ugliness when I don’t feel like the experience itself was ugly.  While some people can wear their scars as a testament of their strength, my scar still reminded me of all that I was forced to change, about how life goes haywire despite your precautions, and how little control I have.   I needed to change that scar into a thing of beauty and strength that reflected who I have become.

And so SHE came to me one day. SHE is a dragon….multicolored colored and smiling but fierce, powerful, beautiful , and proud.  She represents the protector, wisdom, luck, prosperity, transformation and the ability to adapt to all elements.  She is cross cultural appearing in both eastern and western mythology and is revered everywhere for her ancient knowledge.  Where there is dragon, there is treasure hidden deep within.

And so she will be tattooed on my torso….she is not hiding my scar, she is encompassing it and making it part of her own body.  She will move my eye’s line of sight to what IS there  – the beauty and fierceness – and away from what is no longer.  The focus is shifted for me from loss to creativity, from what happened to me to what I chose for myself.  It is not a hiding from what is or trying to go back to what was, it is an open hearted acknowledgement that cancer happened….and here is what I did with it.

While this may seem like a radical decision and is certainly not an option most would consider, I welcome the opportunity to shape my body – and my experience  - in a unique, strong and beautiful way.  I am not doing this for anyone but me and I have the feeling that she is going to teach me much in our journey together.  I can’t wait!

It Gets Better May 5, 2011

Recently there have been numerous news stories detailing the deaths of young people who were tormented for being different or because they were gay.  While youth is always a time of great change and those who stand out in the crowd have always been targets of others insecurities, the extreme violence surrounding many of these deaths  in  a time in which we believe ourselves  to be so progressive is stunning.  In the past year our youth have been beaten to death, lured to “parties” in which they are tortured and raped, videoed and publically humiliated, and bullied to the point they can no longer bear staying alive.  A recent news story told the tale of two 13 year old girls – best friends – who killed themselves at a slumber party. Their parents suspect they had been planning it quietly all along and they did not want to be stopped . This was not a “call for help” as we traditionally have viewed suicide. In their minds, death was the only way to end the constant abuse they suffered at the hands of their peers .

Closer to home, last month over dinner a young friend of mine spoke of a 13 year girl at her school who was different, never seemed to fit in , had family troubles and who took her own life.  I have seen so many of these kids over the years.  A  young man named Colin stayed with me while he escaped the abuse he suffered at the hands of his extremely religious parents because he was different.  He disappeared one day and his parents found him two weeks later hanging in the woods in their back yard. When I practiced counseling and did crisis intervention my office was full of teens struggling to stay alive, afloat and in one piece.  These kids were rebels, honor students, athletes and GLB teens who felt they did not – and could not – measure up. They were tormented at school and often held to unrealistic standards by parents with deaf ears. Some felt themselves to be so different it terrified them and they could see no way they would ever fit in. Their problems were belittled, the stresses they were under discounted and they sought control by acting out, through self-abusive behavior and ultimately by ending their lives. They did not believe there was help to be had and could only see a lifetime of the same garbage ahead of them.  It is no wonder they chose to close the book.

To my young friends out there:  I want you – all of you,  wherever to you are – to know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  And, it does get better.  SO MUCH BETTER.  I PROMISE.  I know what it is like to be bullied, shunned and tormented for being different.  I know how hard it is to shine.  I know all about hating yourself for things you cannot control, and how difficult it is to believe that things will ever be better. I know what it is like to feel so unbearably different but I also know  how scary AND  exquisitely beautiful it is to find out who you really are. There are many people who understand, who will lend an ear and a helping hand.  Believe me when I tell you I know how hard it is to face another day knowing you cannot, and will not,  ever be what they want  and it seems so easy to just disappear.  Looking back, I am so very happy that I didn’t let the bastards win.  Keep fighting the good fight- it will not be forever.  You will find your place, you will find many others like you  – you are not now  — and will not ever be— alone. If you doubt my word…TALK TO ME  — here is my email : becomingamazon@gmail.com – I am ALWAYS available to you.  Please do not end your story before it even gets to the good parts.

To the “responsible adults” around us:  This is a nation founded on the principals of rebelliousness and individuality.  Our country’s founders came here to escape intolerance.  Why then do we as a nation silently condone persecutory behavior when it is directed at the shadows of our societies – those we marginalize due to race or sexual orientation?  Your families were once the very people hiding their beliefs, hiding who they were, running from the religious zealots who said they were wrong and who dictated “gods” word differently than your families believed.  Have we forgotten why we came here in the first place????

We need to instill a tough national ZERO TOLERENCE policy around bullying, discrimination and discriminatory violence regardless of the age of the perpetrator.  Both children and parents should be held equally accountable for acts of terror and violence targeting other youth.  Teachers, principals and school boards should be held accountable for acts of bullying occurring on their campuses  AND  for acts of violence that occur off campus  when the  seeds were planted and word was spread during school time. Family, friends and neighbors need to stand up for our youth; we need to speak out, jump in, notify authorities and stop pointing fingers or saying “it is not my problem”.  IT IS OUR PROBLEM.

Every evening the news carries stories of youth being bullied, after school “fight clubs”, malicious texting and abusive social media interactions and we turn the sound down, throw our hands up and wonder who is responsible.

WE ARE RESPONSIBLE.

WE DID THIS TO OUR YOUTH.

WE CREATED THIS PROBLEM.

AND WE NEED TO PUT AN END TO IT NOW.

 

We need to create more opportunities, both educational and social in which individuality and self-expression are supported, explored and celebrated.  When we foster competition over creativity and when sports teams are funded while the arts are being shut down  we are raising a generation more aggressive and less tolerant of those who are different. We need to back off on the pressures to succeed that we put on our children due to our own adult fears of failure.  Let them be kids, love them for all their crazy glory.  Stop trying to make them little adults imposing on them some weird standard for plastic perfection.  Let them PLAY and explore and create, then ask them to be responsible – not the other way around.   Our priorities need to change.

Our youth are our future.  In a society where adults turn a blind eye on youth picking on those who are unique what does that say about our future?  Where will our creativity disappear to?  Where will our individualism and all the things this country was founded on disappear to when our children are too afraid to stand out? Are we becoming a nation identical to the ones we fled from so many years ago?  Keep in mind that the world’s richest man was a geek – shunned for not being an athlete and meeting some “american standard” for athleticism and aggression.  What if he ended his life at 16  because he was weird and bullied?  What would we have lost?

To the parents out there:  Shame on you to those adults whose own closed minded perfectionism bred such intolerance in our children. Shame on you for closing your eyes, for your lack of accountability and your apathy.  You have forgotten your role.  As parents we hold great responsibility  – our children are not ours  to use as pawns or tools to foster our hatred and biases. They belong to the future and as such need guidance in staying the course of integrity and strength in the face of pressures to follow the easy path of conformity. And though you will never see this, to the parents of Colin:  I will never forget that your child died because you couldn’t love him for who he was instead of who you wanted him to be.  He was an amazing young man — too bad for all of us that you didn’t see that.  You set an example for all  parents to learn who our children really are …you may be pleasantly surprised.

Thankfully many, many more parents work hard to raise conscientious, caring and compassionate kids….THANK YOU.  I have the good fortune to know and work with many of your young people, and I love them dearly for how hard they work to do the right thing. You are teaching them that regardless of your  specific beliefs we all hold a piece of God, and to extinguish that  through demands of conformity or acts of violence, robs us all. I am so grateful for your compromises, your wisdom, your words and  your silence  even when your were scared.  As a single parent of young adults, I know how hard it is….but I also know that the most important thing we ever give our kids is acceptance.  And sometimes, that is a hard thing for us to give without any attachments.

To my fellow warriors, rebels, GBLT rule breakers, artists and creative souls….I love you all.  I honor all that you are, all that you have been and the challenges you have faced.  So many of you hid when you were young waiting for a safe time to be truly you….and I love who you have become!  I am so glad that you stayed here with us as you continue to brighten so many lives.  I wish that these kids could see you then and  now so that they would know what is possible. They so need to know what love and acceptance really looks like.  Thank you for helping all of us step up to being better people.

Please check out the following resources:

It Gets Better Project founded by Seattle’s Dan Savage

Pink  ”Perfect” explicit

Lady Gaga Born this Way lyrics

Cultivating asparagus April 20, 2011

I have been putting in an asparagus bed this Spring – an interesting process for a girl with some serious commitment issues. Growing asparagus takes a lot of preparation and care and needs to be left alone for two years before it is harvested. And not only does it take forever  before you can eat it, it hogs a whole lot of energy and valuable space. In order to make room for it, 2 large sheds got taken down, a ton of gravel was moved and a hundred wheelbarrows full of dirt were hauled across the yard to fill the 4’x11’x14” bed that will house a cluster of weedy looking roots. Counting a full year of planning and preparation, by the time I have a piece of roasted asparagus on my plate, nicely seasoned with olive oil, garlic and a little lemon pepper, I will have labored over it for three years without it even reaching its peak production for  several more. I’m preparing to commit to this vegetable longer than most things in my life.

My kids and I moved nearly 20 times in the nineteen years we lived together. We relocated for good reasons, and for bad….we have moved all of our stuff into storage units while we lived out of boxes, and unpacked full of hope time and time again. Each time I carefully packed the collection of bird nests my daughter said I kept because I was looking for my own place to nest. Each new home was like a new garden…an empty space waiting to be filled, full of promise that if I worked hard enough, it would be bountiful. In each I tended a garden of some sort, full of hope that the seeds I planted would unleash abundance on us.

Gardening is where the dreamer in me shines – where I can jump in head fist and watch the magic happen. It is a small world I get to be god of. I spent many winters reading garden catalogs, making plans and buying far more seeds than I ever really needed. Always hoping that this would be the one I got to keep, I threw my whole heart in with wild abandon. I dug every new garden myself, asking for and receiving no help…moving turf, hauling rocks and constructing beds.The problem was I spent little time distilling what I REALLY wanted, had the time and energy for  and whether the conditions were really right. It was one big all-or-nothing-try-everything-in-hope-that-something-works. Regardless of the suitability of the land to what I wanted, I attempted to build my dreams in an energetic frenzy of dirt moving and shit hauling.

Ironically (or maybe not) no matter how many times I planned, dug and sweated, or even how long I was able to tend that particular garden, I never really harvested what I planted. I confess – shamefully – I was a lifetime gardener who didn’t enjoy the fruits of her labors. Sure, I would nibble out of it and give stuff away to neighbors and friends, but as for harvesting and making the most of every zucchini, bean or lettuce leaf – well, most of it rotted. For all the time, energy, and work I put in, I never really got to be nourished by it. I dove in headfirst with enthusiasm and hope but was blinded by the enormity of possibility. I would lose focus, forget to water, get distracted and soon  it was too late. The window of opportunity was gone.

In my garden I had a big idea of what I wanted – but it was like comparing a relationship to a grocery store romance novel — little connection with reality or possibility. Even though I dreamed big and worked hard on it, it wasn’t necessarily what I wanted or capable of maintaining and I had to give up mid-stream. And all these years of running to and from many things – and myself  - meant that I had never learned how to cultivate my dreams. My lack of abundance in other areas of life left me seeking, yet unable to harvest, my dream anything much less garden. A lack of clarity about what I wanted had me planting far more seeds that I was interested in or able to take advantage of. I was a spectacularly hard worker but not so good at doing all that would have resulted in a successful harvest. When the garden had finally reached its maximum fertility and was ready to give back, I let the branches break for the weight of the fruit, and the stalks fell over top-heavy.  It was survival of the fittest…the toughest plants survived the attention/neglect then got packed up and moved on with me. The rest was left unapologetically in the compost heap.

This post was about gardening right?

To an outsider gardening looks like you can just plant, sit around watching it grow, pull a few weeds and then feast. It takes a great deal more planning and preparation in order to be successful. Choices about time and place, long term goals and quality of the available resources are critical to being able to continue productivity for the long term. The daily tending is critical to keeping it healthy.  And like so much of life, it is the small things you do that result in abundance. Sometimes in the in-between, when you are just tending to the dream, it is easy forget your intention and get distracted. Gardening and life are a constant re-commitment to the process –even when it looks like nothing is happening. We have to trust in the unseen, to believe that our care matters. Sometimes we have to re-evaluate mid-stream, make different decisions about our resources or take a break to rest the soil. We have to plan ahead to prevent disaster and anticipate our successes so that we are ready to receive.

Cancer changed much in my life, right down to the fact that my “garden” became 2 pots on the back porch and some real evaluation about what I wanted in life. Now that my kids had moved out, I only had my needs to consider and a clean slate. I had a gnawing sense of immediacy and my world had become a daily investigation of what was important to me in the moment. Gone was my endless energy for big, vague dreams and instead I asked myself regularly, “is this making me happy?” and “what do I really want?”.I was often surprised by the answers.

Some of that big dream I thought I wanted didn’t really apply to me. The job I thought was so important was not. And neither was questing after the status of being important. I wanted small, not large. What was actually valuable to me in my relationships was not necessarily what I had thought. I was really satisfied with the “happy hour menu” instead of the whole big sha-bang.  Most importantly, I began to realize I was worth the effort to plan for and have what I wanted then to enjoy whatever it was.

My boyfriend Neil began looking for his first house to buy while I lay in bed recovering from surgery. As he was working through finding what he really wanted I encouraged him to make a “treasure map” of what was most important and to firmly believe that it would lead him to the right home. I taught him the very work I was trying to embody myself and hoped that teaching would help the learning sink in. While he manifested his way to a new home, I mapped my way into a new life, questioning the importance of each step to make sure I was not throwing it all to the wind as I so often had.

And sure enough the house appeared – in not quite what was be anyone’s dream location, but certainly full of possibility and possessing every strength Neil considered important – down to room for the roses he hoped to grow. Though it was Neil’s home, I had made my own treasure map of what I hoped for in this next move: space to build love, the strengthening my health, staying close to my parents, time to self-reflect  wrapped in the sweet smell flowers and of course, a garden. We got the got the keys the night before my last radiation treatment. Come spring, we counted 30 rose bushes (!) and those mysterious tree-like plants all over the yard turned out to be a dozen different lilacs. The previous owner was a gardener and as it warmed up and my energy began to return, I filled her garden beds with vegetables and munched on the raspberries she had tended so carefully.  As I settled my nest collection into its new home, I couldn’t help but wonder if finally I had learned enough to have found my own nest location too.

That first summer I carefully tended a garden that had been there for many years with the tools that the little old lady had left for me to use. Fenced in and protected, there were many plants that were long established and an abundance of surprises. I grew only what I knew we could eat and what I had energy for, I shared the excesses of raspberries and beans but kept enough for me to make jam and put things away in the freezer for deep-winter treats. I planted flowers that I cut every week and tended the dozens of rose bushes making sure that I always brought the beauty indoors to enjoy all of the time.

Cautiously I dug into the dirt, my home and my relationships. I re-established connections with friends I hadn’t seen in years because I had felt so toxic. Neil and I remodeled the whole house  making it ours, sorting out the nuances of what we each wanted. We learned how to work together amidst the piles of rubble and dust left from tearing down the old in so many ways.  We called our friends and loved ones for help with the hard things and to join us in celebrating our successes.  Tentatively I extended little tendrils of roots and closed the exit doors I usually left open for me to escape. Where I used to plan far ahead and close myself off, now our house and garden is full of the laughter of family and friends who often stop by unannounced. Many quite evenings have passed with a glass of wine in hand watching our chickens root around in the dirt. And I have fully harvested two years worth of gardens, with a freezer full to prove it.

When I told my kids I was planning to plant asparagus they said “Whoa Mom, that is BIG!” And it is. This wasn’t something I could dig up and take with me in a pot or pack into a box.  Planting asparagus is a statement that I plan to be around to stick around to see it grow, to do the cautious work of preparing its home, to take care of it and enjoy it thoroughly when it ended up on my plate.

There is something way bigger at work here in this garden. I have stopped envisioning my life in big fairy tale format that had little connection to my sanity and dreams. I spend more time asking if this is my desire or someone else’s and try to act on that. When I focus on what I want, I stop running away from abundance and instead become more able to receive the fruits of my labor.  I allowed for the wisdom, tools and helping hands of the people around me, past and present, to help me tackle challenges instead of hiding, ashamed of my struggles and limited knowledge. As I become more comfortable with what I want and who I am without the extra distractions, I am able to set down roots. All gardeners know that the more nourished the roots the deeper they grow and the healthier the plant. And I feel my roots growing strong and deep and reaching outwards to anchor myself to this place.

The Jersey King asparagus that will arrive any day now has no idea how incredibly important it is. When I finally get to that dinner, I will have worked the same garden for 4 years – longer than I have ever stayed put in one place. It will also mean that I have allowed love in my life, and consistently maintained close friendships that nurture me, for the longest time ever.  Its survival means that I will have successfully cultivated hope and acted on my dreams in many aspects of my life for longer than I have ever. And most importantly, I stuck through the rain and dirt, sunshine and beautiful days to actually enjoy the effort I have put in. A lot rides on something that could die regardless of my attention. This asparagus – not even planted yet – represents far more than a tasty side dish. It represents the most important commitment I have ever made – the one to constantly and lovingly tend my own inner garden.

Dear Friend….. October 6, 2010

Dear Friend,

You recently asked me, in anguish, if pursing the dream of true love was unrealistic.  You are going through such a hard time and I have thought of you and your question every day. I believe that I told you that following where your heart leads is always worth the trouble…but I wanted to say so much more.

Maybe you, like me, married because you were supposed to when a good man asked you. He was deeply in love with you  — maybe he thought you were the most amazing thing in the world. And you wondered what else should you ever expect of a relationship than to have a man that thinks you are a goddess?  Maybe after a time, after you found out more about yourself, or maybe in the effort to discover what lies beneath your tumultuous surface, you realized that the person he loved was not all that you suspected you were. Was he was willing to do anything but you knew that there was nothing that would change how you feel?  Maybe you felt like you were on a pedestal that you did not want – or feel that you deserved – and  it really felt like a cage to you.  Then came the day you could see the blue sky through the window and you realized that you wanted oh so much more.

Or were you  like me and married because you thought there was no other choice?  Maybe you thought you could not do it alone. Or you didn’t know how strong you really were yet and he scared you into staying. Maybe you stayed because you were afraid that you were nothing without him.  Did  you think that you could change the bad in him because he could also be charming and fun? Were you afraid to leave because by doing so it would show that you were not any good at relationships? Or did you believe that you should stay because you promised, and you should just try harder?  Did you think if you were skinnier, richer, or more beautiful, he would love you more and you would be happy and everything would be fine? Maybe a day came when you realized, like me, that you would rather die than stay, but the way out was full of darkness and difficulty.

Or did you just lay awake at night wondering “what if”?  Was everything in life “okay” but you yearned for AMAZING?   Did you simply know deep down inside that you deserved more? Or did you feel your sparkle start to dim as you settled for a life that was never really what you wanted? .

The day came when you asked me if you were being silly for searching for something more.  And when you asked me, I knew you had already started a journey in which you would find great beauty and sorrow.  You asked “why, if this is the right thing, do I feel so sad?”  And I did not answer.  Because I knew that you cry in sorrow, and in great joy, and maybe the two are intimately mixed right now.

You are not at the beginning of a quest for love, although that is what you think now. You are at the beginning of a great creative adventure. The canvas is wide open, the colors wait to mix and blend, to define and smear, to tell stories of hope, joy, pain and heartache.  There is excitement in the air when you make the leap to finding out what makes your heart sing.  There is terror as well – but it is the roller coaster, nervous laughter type…you chose the ride after watching others laugh and scream and raise their hands in the air while their plummeted down the track.  And you wanted to be like them – fearless.

Ah, but this journey is not about being fearless…..it IS about fear.  The fear that somehow, we will have wasted the time we have.  The fear that we will not know what we were really capable of.  The fear that we will never really know who we are….and ultimately, be loved for all of it and more.

The path to finding true love is not about looking for that in another person, although that may indeed come about. To find true love, you will need to get out your microscope and examine the tiniest details of YOU.  You will get out the dress up clothes and try on every possible combination of selves and will create a huge “THROW AWAY” pile, and a smaller, more beautiful and colorful “KEEP” pile.  You will make new friends, talk, cry, laugh and play your way into creation.  You will discover who you are without anyone else. You will find out that you are messy, or that you really like to get up later than you thought; that you like cheesy romance novels, or that you HATE scrambled eggs.  You will do things you never thought possible and you will stop doing things that you would have sworn were important to you.  You will take long bathes and longer hikes.  You will work harder than you ever thought possible and it will feel effortless because it is for YOU. You will change jobs, locations, friends and clothing. You will feel like you are going kinda crazy and that is GOOD!  Society doesn’t appreciate challenges to their dark suited, big worded serious norm….they call crazy the woman with the flower in her hat and the mismatched bright colored socks who hands out the most wonderful cookies on the street corner in the morning.  Which do you really want to be?

Along the way, while you are loving and exploring that person who is uniquely YOU, maybe someone will come along that appreciates your kind of craziness. The song you are singing will resonate in them but they will think the lyrics are a little different. They will see the triple rainbow in the sky that you see, but you will argue over its colors. They will walk left foot first and you  will walk right foot first, but somehow you manage to make it all work. And, because you know how you like your eggs  - you make theirs scrambled and yours sunnyside up. They will not ask you to be other than who you are. They will not blindly follow your lead. They will challenge you and be hard on you and hold you to a truth that IS you and so much more. You will be their hero, but not their savior. They will still get mad at you and think that your feet stink and get moody and out of sorts and you will realize that you don’t have to fix any of that. You will give them the space to be uniquely themselves – as they give you the space to be uniquely you.

Or maybe, you will not find THE ONE person.  Maybe you will find that you are okay without a partner, and instead surround yourself with friends, family and loved ones of all sorts who are only a phone call, or Facebook message away.  Maybe for awhile you will find relief in not feeling like you have to put someone else’s needs about your own. Maybe you will be free to change selves like you change your underwear. Maybe you will just be glad of the solace to heal the wounds that have surfaced in your life randomly like potholes in the road.

I hope that you, like me, will not come to the realization that you are worth the effort because your life has been threatened. Or because you were surprised by a disease that was trying to kill you as you went about your way doing your best to fit in somewhere. I don’t want you to find out, in the middle of a tragedy, when you most need love and support, that there is none for you when you have given away so much.

And so I say to you, with a huge hug and great love and tears in my eyes that YES love is worth all the trouble. LOVING YOURSELF, more than anyone else. Loving you enough that you  make tough choices. It means that you may sleep on a floor, or spend many nights alone, or eat more Top Ramen than you ever thought possible. You might be begged to come back, you might beg to go back. You might wonder if you did the right thing over and over and over again. It might mean that you have to give up some of what made you so falsely comfortable.  It might mean that you learn to fight for what is yours or to fight for a life you weren’t sure was ever really worth the bother.  And yes, it is worth it.  YOU are worth it.

Dream big.  Believe that all things are possible. Know that you are capable of so much more than you ever thought. You are far stronger than you know. You are surrounded by people who love you , who have been waiting for you to come out of your shell. Who will lend a hand (or a Kleenex) or a shoulder or a word of encouragement. You are never alone. There is a bottom to the deep deep ocean and there is beautiful, amazing and totally unique knowledge that comes from having seen what is there. Wake each morning with great curiosity about the day instead of dread. Forgive yourself for needing to be selfish. And be compassionate as you make mistakes.  Treat yourself as if you were your best friend. OPEN, OPEN, OPEN….You cannot receive a gift with closed hands. Remember that everyone around you possesses a piece of The Truth…and listen for it.  And maybe you, like me will start to see the possibility of all that we can be. Maybe you – like me -will find a special person, who marches to their own bizarre little drummer, to walk this rutted path with you.  Maybe you, like me will find that you are surrounded by people who have always known who you are and were just waiting for you to figure it out for yourself.  And maybe you will see that I am one of them.

With much love,

Me