The Tugboat Follies

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

A few weeks ago my fabulous sidekick Ms. Marsue asked me what my new blog was about. She didn’t ask me to summarize it. But I felt the need and was unable to do it. I couldn’t not add all the funny, odd and biting lines I could remember. She could have read it quicker than it took me to summarize it. I hated the idea of leaving out the funny parts, of truncating its goodness, or making it less. Part of that resistance to edit was that I was proud of the piece and knew it would make her laugh; the other part was that it worked as is, in whole. To make it less, bugged me. The more I thought about it the more I realized I was a little nutty in a new way. Fascinating…ok for me yes, for others not so much. I found that when I create something, express thought or emotion to its fullest where I am satisfied and happy with its outcome it is pure. That purity was what I struggled to achieve, to translate from amorphous free-floating crazy to thought, word and sometimes Crayola. The resistance to summarize for Marsue reminded me of the first time I bumped up against this type of situation.

 

I was young, really little, maybe 5-6 years old. I didn’t know much but I knew what was good, what was true and what was art. That seemed enough to get me into a whole lot of trouble. At some point on a Sunday afternoon I remember passing my parents’ bedroom door thinking it needed something, a little sparkle, a little tszuj, which is pronounced “zjug,” (see Carson Kressly from “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy”), but I digress. So the door was bare and I had a crayon, a blue one. I drew the perfect tugboat in navy blue Crayola on the bottom third of my parent’s door and walked away satisfied. Even at 5 years old I knew a job well done.

 

Sometime later my parents called my sisters and I together in the dining room and sat us down around the dinner table. I had an inkling what this was about but kept mum. At this point there were only four Freeburg girls; Amy was an eggy-weggy back then. My mother passed around pieces of blank paper and crayons to each of us. My father asked us to draw a boat the best we could. If I was 5 or 6 years old, then Susan, whose 18 months younger, would have been 3.5 or 4.5, Chris 8 or 9, and Marguerite 9 or 10. We were all in grade school. I remember thinking that this was a trick and I knew that I should draw a different boat. I knew this trap was going to get me in trouble. Unfortunately, I also knew I could draw an amazing tugboat and was hard pressed to draw something less than spectacular. I was torn between not getting in trouble and drawing what I knew to be good and true. I finally acquiesced and left out one small detail on the portholes on my drawing—a detail that was very insignificant to the casual viewer. And it made me crazy to even give in that small bit. I knew by drawing it the way I did I would be caught but I could not bring myself to do less than what I believed to be great. There was little to no compromise.

 

My parents of course could see by my drawing that it was my artwork on the door and I got my punishment. My sisters and my parents could not believe that I was stupid enough to draw the same picture or close to the same. I tried to explain why I did it but they just smiled and shrugged thinking me not too bright. But I knew better. I knew the truth: that I am not motivated by the same things most are. People don’t always understand that. What it was is they were looking at conventional cause and effect relationships: Kids don’t want to get into trouble therefore they will lie to not get caught. When I didn’t follow that route it was deemed I was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

The truth however was that by doing less than my best, by not honoring what my vision was would have been the bigger punishment. Not being true to myself is always the bigger punishment. I would think that is true for most of us. I think in relationships, jobs and social situations we trade away bits of ourselves and wonder why we are depressed, angry or just plain ragged. When we diminish our gifts, skills and what we bring to the table we do the world and ourselves a disservice.

 

I used an example of art here because it is a clear and concrete example of my voice, but this happens in all arenas. There are times when we all want to do something but resist because what others might think. I hate to pull a Tinkerbelle on you but every time you choose others as a reason to do, or not do, something rather than yourself, you let that spark inside go out. Every time you feel compelled but don’t express how you think or feel, you abandon yourself.

So here is what I am proposing: rather than using “Tinkerbelle” as point of reference you use “tugboat”. Every time you do something creative, brave and/or wonderful that you are proud of, that you put out there and stand by you’ve “tugboated” it. When you stand for what you believe to be good and true, even if it leaves you standing alone, you’ve “tugboated” it. Each and every time you put your voice, your needs, your well being at the top of the list you are “tugboating”. This may lead to people using the words eccentric, quirky, unique, or even odd when describing you. But at least when they see you, they are really seeing you as you are being the fullest expression of who you are. Being seen, heard and acknowledged for who we are instead of for whom people want us to be is a powerful thing. So gas up your tugboats and get to work—there’s lots of crayons for everyone and millions of doors that need tszujing!

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The hair of my enemy

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

I like change; I crave change yet I find it uncomfortable. This conundrum can make for lots of good things in terms of discovery, and lots of ‘what were you thinking” in terms of hairstyles.  To begin with I have only six hairs on my head and being 6’ 1” with red hair I can be hard to miss. I know because people have tried and failed, even in bustling Times Square. I am a blonde by birth but went red at forty for many reasons, one being it seemed to match the morphing that was going on, such as my smart-assiness becoming more pronounced. It seemed fitting gift wrapped in red.

 

This summer I went back to New York to visit friends and family. During the visit I had a conversation with my sister about hair. She said that as woman get older they are told to cut their hair and she was tired of that message was growing hers out again. I had just gotten a very short cut, which I was getting used to. The style was a cross between early Rod Stewart and a whisk broom. I like it fun, spiky and easy but this was a little too little hair and lots of face, not my first choice. I had had it short for six or eight months at this point and thought it might be nice to see how long I could grow it. If you did not hear an ominous cord right there you should have, I am not the most patient person. I stand in front of my microwave and berate it for dragging its fat ass microwaves. So whether it was good sense to try growing my hair out or a lesson in frustration for me, and anyone who had to speak with me over the subsequent six months, remained to be seen.

 

My friends had to hear the minutia of my frequent bad hair days when looking for a style as the grow out progressed. I had become spoiled with the short and sassy ok, uh-lazy girl version of a hairstyle that was dead easy as it was messy. Not wind, not rain, not even over sleeping could affect its charm. So this temperamental wispy trial and error did not sit well.  One friend, a straight man, had been subject to my bellyaching kind of nonsense for months on end and I believe he was scarred for life. At least I thought he was until he started giving me feedback. I now know based on that feedback he is either Helen Keller or truly evil and must be destroyed. How I know this is after the latest attempt at making a ‘new’ grow out hairstyle I sent a picture to him and to my trusty partner in crime Marsue. He came back with the following:

 

“I like it. You look like Julie Andrews.”

 

There is so much wrong with that sentence that I have a hard time knowing where to begin, not unlike a fat girl in stretch pants at a pie-eating contest. Note to readers: once upon a time that fat chick was me so I know of whence I speak, but I digress. First off Julie effing Andrews? Really? Did he have to go there? We have nun on one end of the JA spectrum and a nana on the other with Victor Victoria in the middle, none of which help my sex appeal rating. In fact I am sure there was a London based study in the early 1990’s that had proven she had caused shrinkage.

 

Just hearing that comment made me pick up the phone to my hairdresser and book an appointment for the next day. Marsue’s note came later that night suggesting the style made me look over coiffed, which was not usual, and the style looked older. In the term ‘older’ I heard “blue-hair-bingo-playing-17-cat- owning-cotton-flowered-housedress-wearing –nanna-a-ramma bad news.” The call to the stylist had been placed at just the right time it seems.

 

I went to my appointment and got confused looks from my team of hairdressers. They knew my plan for the grow out and had supported me even though they knew no good could come from it. They humored me as one would tiny children and those of limited capabilities in cognitive skill and style.  The head hairdresser, Trang, waited me out knowing I would crack like an egg. And I did. I told her I couldn’t take it anymore, to cut it off.

 

“Please,” I implored, “don’t go as short as you did in July but shorter than this.” She told me to sit down and with a wave of her hand that was the end of everything, including the discussion of my hair. The hairs started to fly; five of the six were all but gone. When the frenzy was done there I was, all face no hair. At least I didn’t have bangs like Saint Francis of Assai this time but the rest was back to Rod Stewart.

 

Granted most folks who had seen both cuts had told me I looked great with short hair, that was a small consolation. Perhaps it was just a shock seeing my hair short again, so I went home and drank a bottle of wine thinking, “tomorrow is another day and it might be longer in the morning.” The good news when I woke the next day I didn’t think I looked like Rod Stewart anymore… my hair was smooshed to the side and had taken an unattractive slant of military. I walked to yoga class trying to unsmoosh it and stop channeling Gommer Pyle, which was surprise, surprise, surprise, the character of the day.

 

I didn’t tell my friend who came up with the unflattering Julie Andrews comment that I had gotten my hair cut, I wanted to surprise him. Yes, I can hear the chorus in the background as I type, “will she ever learn?” No, apparently I won’t. A few nights later I got a shocked smile from my friend as I let him in the door.

 

“Hey you cut your hair, I like it.”

 

If he had only stopped there, so much would be different. But he continued:

 

“It reminds me of Woodstock.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The bird from Peanuts. You know with the fluffy tuft of hair on the top of his head where you can almost see his scalp.”

 

So you see, out of the two options, him being Helen Keller or “he is truly evil and must be destroyed,” I had no choice. It was a clean kill. I don’t have any regret really, it had to be done. It was hard to get the large standing cast iron candle obera out of his gut but hey it was part of a pair and I needed it. The officers on the scene seemed to understand when I pointed that out.

As you can imagine my haircut is slowly growing out and really lots of the girls here have the same one, so no big deal.  I have an appeal on the court calendar and my lawyer says if we pull a judge packing a set of ovaries this time I am free as a bird. Just not Woodstock!

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Alexi doesn’t live here anymore

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

There are times when I move from one thing, to another at a very rapid state without processing what I have learned or felt. When I do this for too many days I can feel drained.  When I push past drained to the next level I end up in a state of Alexithymia, or Alexi as I call her, which is the absence of words to describe one’s emotions.  When I don’t process events I render myself unable to understand, feel, or describe my emotions. It is as if my head and entire body are filled with cotton. I am not numb; numb is a self-directed effort, an active suppression. Alexi happens more subtly like waters rising on a river on a dark rainy night.

It is believed Alexi manifests itself in two ways, “primary alexithymia” which is a personality trait generally couples with other disorders like posttraumatic stress disorder, traumatic brain injury, anorexia nervosa or with any of those on the autism spectrum, to name a few. The trait of “primary alexithymia” is not situational, is generally unchanging over time and not something I will be addressing here. The other way Alexi presents herself is as “secondary alexithymia” which is a state triggered by a stressful situation.

I have come to understand that I can push myself into a ‘state’ of Alexi and did it again last week. It was a crazy busy week, lots of emotions, lots of intense stressful situations and come Saturday afternoon I was disconnected. I came home from running errands and playing with a friend lay down on the sofa and stared out the window watching the street not doing or thinking about anything for 90 minutes. I then closed my eyes, not the least bit sleepy, and did the same thing but laying there in a suspended state for another hour or more. I had hit the wall. I had no words, no thoughts, no anything but fluffy white cotton.

I used to watch a lot of doctor shows, I read too much junk on the Internet, I have a loose grasp on this passing fancy we call reality. So do I know this to be proper diagnoses? Of course it is! It might also be a lesson for me to really pay attention. This behavior is a passive way of pushing myself to a point of disconnection where I am moving through my life as a robot. I am performing tasks, having shallow interactions with those around me as I am unable to discern little about how I feel or gage appropriate emotional responses to others and situations. This is a slow build type of event and preventable. All I need to do is stop the get-it-done train and acknowledge my behavior has gone off the track. When I have become more invested in the results of my actions than with the moments of learning and the enjoyment derived from the process I am in cotton country.

We are a society who rewards people who get things done. I am not saying it is bad to get things done or to be efficient in the process of our tasks. What I am saying is the tasks are never finished; there are always more of them to do. If you rush through your days and weeks being driven by what is unfinished you become disconnected from yourself and those around you. If you are rushing through your life jamming those emotions to what is happening around you somewhere in a back corner of your head to deal with at a more convenient time I have news for you, there is never a more convenient time. Throw in some high stress and you may find yourself unable to communicate how you feel, distinguish how others are feeling and be further removed from your support system and your core. For me if a tidal wave of emotion feels like it will undermine me or my integrity of self that is a clue the waters are rising. There are other factors that had put me in the Alexi state, other than being overwhelmed and disconnected, but even the small digression I described above does not make for a happy or healthy life. Where I ended up last week was a reoccurrence of something that used to happen to me on a very regular basis. In changing my life I have not bumped up against Alexi in a long time.  I had forgotten how often that disconnection occurred and how it even felt like a normal event. Just because something occurs on a regular basis does not make it healthy, look at Elizabeth Taylor and her revolving door marriages. These days I pay more attention to how I feel and what my body tells me at any given moment. My head can rationalize anything, it may be diminutive in size but it’s very clever. My body only speaks the truth. I use it as a type of tuning fork and doing that is what helps keep Alexi at bay. Alexi may visit on a rare occasion but she certainly doesn’t live here anymore.

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Doing more with less

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

In the course of twelve hours I had three conversations with three different people about control or the lack there of. During each conversation all the people uttered the phrase “I have to let it go” as in they had to learn to do that. Face it, control is a bossy bitch and she knows where you live. Letting go of trying to control things, especially things you have no control of is a scary, heart pounding exercise that is a test of wills between you and well, you. I know logically I have control over how I react to whatever happens around me, but I would prefer to have control of all things and all people I come into contact with. Clearly I don’t otherwise I would be Oprah. I do not have control over anything other than myself, not what happens but how I choose to react to it. I am convinced what happens is controlled and put into play through a game of craps in a back room somewhere in the universe filled with the eager and the aimless, mooks, malingerers, sketchy dudes in cheap sun glasses talking to tiny tee-shirted dog purse girls and a one eyed cat named Weinstein.

With that image in mind I can take a breath and release the notion that I can hurry traffic along, make my family and friends read the artfully scripted lines I have crafted for them or hit those damn mega million lotto numbers. What I can do is let it go, whatever ‘it’ is at the moment and look around to see what opportunity I have been overlooking because I am playing a game of ‘what if’ in my head. Just acknowledging I need to take a breath and pick up my head is a start. As frustration builds with any given situation here are a few very good questions I ask myself.

What do I want?

What do I need?

What do I feel?

Those three questions are a good way to take my temperature to what is going on. Then I can look at what I have control over in the situation and work with that. Again if I want someone to do or say something different than they are doing it that is not under my control.  I can either remove myself from that situation or look at what is tweaking me about someone else’s behavior. If my reaction is bigger than the action at hand it means my reaction is attached to something else and I need to look at what is triggering it. There is usually a steamer trunk of baggage attached. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction whether it is hitting a ball or reacting to a loved one’s remark.

Letting go of controlling outcomes, others expectations and actions, my expectations, and sometimes-old belief systems that no longer serve can be freeing. It can also give that horrible free fall feeling of when you wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat feeling as well. Having enough confidence that I can usually get out of any trouble I have managed to get into helps. So does uttering the phrase, “what the f@*&” strangely enough. There can be something magical about a well-placed cuss word.  It also helps to remember that whatever the drama or issue  I can take a step back and take a breath to see if it is something that will matter in 24 hours, a week, a year or be a deathbed regret. Having lost more than a few loved ones at very young ages gives me a better perspective of what is important. It is easy to lose that focus in the midst of trying to make something or someone behave a way I feel like I need to though. As soon as I start to realize my breath is becoming shallow, my head is buzzing without coffee, and I am doing mental gymnastics that would make a double jointed, seventy-two pound, nine year old Korean Olympic hopeful weep, I know I am out in the weeds.

Taking that breath, mumbling profanity, laughing at the utter nonsense that I can control anything other than perhaps mastering the art of making the perfect cup of tea is fiction. I am ok with that; I hope to do more with less this next year. So less prep work on the ‘what if’ plan and more walks, less replaying old conversation to figure out what that inflection on the last word really meant and more just asking for clarity. Knowing that if someone wants me to do, or know something they will tell me. I am not responsible for anyone’s but my own happiness and can trust everyone else will do as they choose or not. So this year it is a plan of more fun, more curiosity, more movement, more laughter, more stillness, and more love. All of this more can be achieved with less control, yep that’s right letting go. Go figure….

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The Consultation

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

Dear

Our Lady

of the Perpetual

Short

Attention Span

I am

praying to you

for help and

Oh look a humming bird

guidance

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Martha Graham, Master Oogway and me

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

I had dinner with a writer friend the other night and one of the many things we talked about was, you guessed it, writing. We have very different styles, approaches, voices, methods, you name it but each of us has stumbled on a system that mostly works for us. We are also constantly tweaking what we do, trying to improve it. He is more of a binge writer; he can write seven or eight pieces in a day and then not write for three weeks. My first writing teacher, Lisa Vice, was like that. She would sit at her kitchen table and write for incredibly long stretches not eating and barely sleeping for days when working. Back when I took her class her first book Reckless Driver had just come out and it was a stunning debut. Her process of writing was clearly a system that worked for her.

 

I have a white board at my desk where I scribble phrases that float into my head when I am folding laundry. On that board I write key words to remember, parts of conversations with my many muses or odd words that just stick in my head. Some of these snippets sit on that board and eventually get used in a piece where others get erased. I start with a word not knowing what I will write, but write  to see what happens. In fact that is more often true than not, I rarely know where the work is going, how it will end or how it will all tie together but generally it does.  Sometimes I even have an idea where it will fit category-wise, other times my editor makes that call. She is smarter than me. I write a few times a week in one form or another when I am not working on a deadline of a large project. Then I write almost every day, some days all day. I love those days. There is a freedom in throwing a plate of spaghetti at the wall; some of it is going to stick. Some of the tumble jumble of words will start the flow of something good, some vein that has been struck and there is life force in that. Which leads me to the following quote from Martha Graham, I heard it years ago and it has been one of the truest things I have heard.

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.”

So whether it is writing, painting, encaustic, or speaking your mind it is about using your unique voice clearly. Say what you mean, mean what you say, do it without judgment or fear and let it go. It is not our jobs to determine what value it is, it is our jobs to bring it forth for everyone’s benefit. It would be like having an orchestra filled with cellos, which is an instrument I love, but we get a fuller, richer sound with violins, trumpets, drums, everyone playing. In music you need all the notes to get the richness, to get perspective, to get the wonder, which is the same in life. We each are a distinct note and everyone has to play loud and clear for the magic to happen. If you spend most of your time thinking about playing, or planning to play when the time is right, or even strategizing your way on how you might play when you know more, you are procrastinating. To make use of another brilliant mind here is another quote that speaks to procrastination.

“There is a saying. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why we call it the present.” Master Oogway, Kung Fu Panda

 

Granted Alice Morse Earle said it in 1902 but she was not an animated turtle so she had no credibility. So with the new year coming what better time to pick up a pen, a paint brush, or a roller skate and take a tumble? Why not take 15 or even 30 minutes to create or express your self today? If you need an idea on how to get started here are a few:

If you are a writer put on some great music, pull a book you love off the shelf and read a few pages for inspiration (if you find yourself reading more than a chapter you are now procrastinating!) Or troll the Internet for a crazy news story and use it as a jumping off point. Describe a favorite meal in a restaurant using all your senses when you write. Tell a cherished childhood memory in such detail that the reader becomes enveloped in your world. For a visual artist look at work that inspires you. Take a walk in nature and look at shapes and color, shadow and light. Use poetry as a muse.

It can be as simple as getting your journal out and setting a timer for 15 minutes. Don’t stop writing (or drawing) the entire time even if what you are doing is cruddy. There have been times I have done this and ended up with a half page of, “I don’t know what to say. I hate this. I feel like an idiot.” But usually down at the end of that junk I hit a vein of something interesting. By doing this kind of exercise you are simply practicing tapping in, over and over. It’s about allowing your creativity, your life force, your truth to flow. In order to find your voice you have to use it. In doing so it emerges and by practicing you build strength, purity and vision. So all I have to say before I go imbibe on some nog is, “What are you doing still reading this?” Get going!

 

“Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic, grace and power in it.”

-Gothe

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The circle of write

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

I see circles everywhere, completions, chickens coming home to roost and then interviewing with them. Sigh, that made more sense in my head, let me see if I can make sense of this for both of us. This past weekend I got a note from the San Diego Writers, Ink Analogy volume IV folks. I had submitted two short stories sometime at the end of the summer. I can’t tell you the last time I submitted my work anywhere. I sent out some query letters last year when I finished my first book and got a little feedback and a few bites but stopped as a memoir is rarely the first book out of the gate for a new author unless you landed a plane in the Hudson River or survived the attack of Sasquatch. So it was a lark to send my work in but hey it was a six-dollar investment and since that is in my budget I did it. Then promptly forgot about it for the most part. A time or two in October, while driving, I thought ‘hey I never heard from those guys’ but within one stop lights distance the thought was gone and forgotten until the email from them this past Saturday. I have to say there was something unexpected in the text. They said they loved one of my short stories and wanted to include it in this year’s book. Not a rejection at all, well isn’t this a horse of another color, the color of success.

I have been writing a lot since moving to San Diego, in blog format, articles and books. I have been learning how to combine writing with my days whether they are empty or full.  I learned how to take 30 minutes and produce. I no longer have to wait for inspiration, which rarely comes unless I am actually in process, actually banging the hell out of a keyboard. For anyone who has ever witnessed me typing it is a full on contact sport. I learned to type on a typewriter and I slap the keys, hard. Better the keys than doing a Zsa Zsa I say. I try not to over think or edit while writing, editing lives in another part of your brain and is no friend till after the first draft is finished. So learning to just keep sitting back down and starting, over and over when the words are not flowing was a huge step over these past few years and working to a deadline or in this case a promise to Tony. Because of  him I put my work out there on the web, in fact I don’t know if I would have recognized what I do as writing if it weren’t for Tony.

More than fifteen years ago I was wrestling with wanting to be a writer and not trusting my voice, skill or lack thereof at the time. I was reading a journal passage to Tony and he pointed out that I was already a writer and the rant, or rather the essay, I had just read was just that. I would not have recognized what I was writing was of value at the time without his insight. Sometimes others can provide valuable feedback, both good and bad, for us to hone our skills. That being said I always consider the source very carefully before giving any credence to feedback, making note of ego and agenda, among other things. So taking the time to actually create–whether that is to paint, write or start a business, whatever your medium–is imperative even if you don’t feel like it. The second step is to share what you are doing with others. At first just with those you trust and can feel vulnerable with. Later spread the love, as your artist ego becomes more confident. Ask those you trust for feedback, take a workshop, watch a video, but don’t forget to keep doing while studying. Sometimes studying, thinking about what you are going to do can be a form of procrastination. If we don’t begin something we can’t make a mistake and we can’t suck at it. We also don’t create something wonderful, or have the experience of creative freedom and discovery.

It doesn’t matter how good a story teller I am, I can tell it one on one or one on few over and over. By writing it down, I can pass it on to have a life of its own. By putting it out there for others to read I am releasing it on its own recognizance, ok I have been watching a lot of Law and Order lately. Granted I never know who reads what I post, minus the beloved few who post comments, so I sometimes feel like I am just flinging this stuff out into the ether. I know it is not my job to worry about an audience, but there are times I do and it makes me think, “Is the time at my keyboard worth it?” Bottom line: it is, even if just for me. That should be true for you as well; your time in creating should be the reward. In my experience it is frustrating, nerve wracking, exhilarating and deeply satisfying.

Putting it out there is part of the chickens coming home to roost I spoke about. I had been pet and house siting all of November at a friend’s house. As others found out what I was doing they inquired about my rates and availability. It had not occurred to me to charge for this or make it a side business. I did a little research and sure enough it was a viable option for me. I posted two ads on Craig’s List for house and pet sitting. I got an email inquiring about my services and a request to interview me. I had never interviewed with a farm animal before, I dated a few but that is another story. I interviewed with the chicken one sunny Saturday morning along with her owner. They were both lovely. The job seemed fun and simple but was not meant to be. However I can add that I interviewed with a chicken to my resume, a fine distinction.

How this comes full circle is this: after learning to write all the time under all kinds of conditions, after bringing others in for feedback, after putting my work out there I had forgotten the last step. That is to submit my work, not just post it in my corner of the World Wide Web but to put it out there for publication on someone else’s dime. That is what I had been working toward for years but it seems I have been driving at night too long. Writing is like driving at night, I can only see 50 feet in front of me, but I can get where I need to go only seeing those 50 feet at a time. That next article, chapter, blog is how I break it down into bite size or life size pieces. What I forgot was there is daylight as well where you can see a good deal better and its okay to take shots at your long range goals. It seems they creep up on you when you drive at night, so remember to pick your head up sometimes and see the chickens have come home to roost you may not get the gig with the chicken but you might get published.

 

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Put down the gun?

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

A few weeks ago a very learned friend told me a story that has stuck with me and I would like to share it. Years ago she was part of a spiritual/therapeutic type group that met regularly to work together; this was right before the year 2000 and there was all that Y2K hub-bub. There was a gentleman in the group who was what you might call a fear-based guy. That means to me someone who makes many of his or her decisions based on fear. On that tag line:  what if XYZ happens and the XYZ is never a good thing, it is always bad, very bad. This guy had a gun in his briefcase locked in his car for when society crumbled after Y2K and we fell into Marshall Law, human sacrifice, dogs and cats living  together… mass hysteria. Basically you name your brand of mayhem and insert it here, and he did, always. The group leader asked this gentleman that if the world, or country did not crash and burn during Y2K could he consider that maybe he lived in a benevolent universe? Could he consider laying his gun down? I love that the group leader just asked him to consider those two things, not ask him to do it, and not ask him to do anything but consider this new option, the option of benevolence.

The memory of this event came to my friend as she lay in bed worrying about a number of financial issues, like rent and food money. She flashed on this story and it occurred to her that this situation was her Y2K and to ask herself if this current money worry did not come to fruition, could she then consider she indeed lived in a benevolent universe? Could she put down her gun? As she told me this story and how she realized that this type of worry was her ‘gun’ I looked at my own life for where I did the same thing. We all have trigger points, things that spin us out into an automatic catastrophizing of events. Some of us do this in one area of our lives, others in every area. I used to spend a lot of time worrying.  I spend very little doing that now but there was a time where I would have a plan A, plan B, C, D, E and so on. I spent a lot of my life preparing for things that rarely if ever came to fruition. When I was not preparing for them, I was worrying about them, at least on the inside, I was happy on the outside. Let me tell you this kind of thing is a lot of work, stress and a total waste of life force.

I know I have said this before, but it is true so I will say it again: “Trouble is like Pizza Hut, it delivers, there is no need to go looking for it.” When something we fear does not come to pass can we at least consider the option that we do live in a kinder, gentler universe than we had believed moments ago? What would you do differently if you believed that? Believed that yes there is chaos but there is also a benevolent and abundant universe in support of you? It has been a question I have been dancing with since moving to San Diego and I am very happy with the results. My faith in myself, my faith in letting go and just doing my best to recognize the opportunities that are presented to me even though they are not what I had envisioned they have been life changing opportunities for growth, richness, love, and wonder.

If you are looking for something you will find it. That being said if what you are looking for is kindness, knowledge and support it’s there. If on the other hand you are looking for ignorance, injustice and destruction you can find that as well. The best way to describe it is when you are looking to buy a new car and you start to notice all the car commercials on TV, the advertisements in magazines, in newspapers, and on the radio, as well as suddenly noticing the models you are curious about all around you on the road. When you are tuned into finding specific data, you find it. This is true for anything. What you believe, is, what you are looking for, you find. If you take that one more step and if perchance a situation you have been dreading turns out not to come to fruition but actually is good. Can something like that change your view? Can that flip you to take that fear and release it so it no longer has the pull it once had? Maybe when that happens next time you’ll think about what is or are the ‘guns’ in your life?

If we are always preparing for storms on all of our sunny days don’t we diminish the wonder of that blue sky?  My answer is yes; I did and sometimes still do not appreciate how wonderful my ‘now’ is instead worrying about something bad that might happen. Sure, sure Starksy and Hutch, Cagney and Lacey, the SVU folks all will tell you to put the gun down.  But most of us need options, lots of options sometimes. And I am just putting one more out there for you to consider: the next time your worst case scenario does not come to pass, the next time your next dreaded moment vaporizes into nothingness, can you consider putting down your gun? Can you consider that you might live in a benevolent universe and what you could do with your life if that were true? As Dr. Seuss says, “Oh, the places you’ll go!”

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Ritual

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

I love rituals; they provide me with comfort, stability and a feeling of coming home, since the concept of home is an in-house place for me, meaning I provide that feeling not others. When I was younger others felt like coming home. When I would see and spend time with people I loved  I felt a sense of belonging and home. I found out that farming out my home was a dangerous thing, like the scarecrow says “People come and go so quickly here.” And they do.

Rituals are a set of actions preformed for the most part for symbolic value. They are used to provide meaning to a moment, whether that be a milestone or breakfast. I change and update rituals as my life and values change. I used to go to Irish Pubs for Thanksgiving as I used to be on the road more during the holidays, it was great fun and wonderful memories. After I moved to San Diego those holiday travels stopped at least for Thanksgiving so I looked at doing some new rituals, in my new city. M first visit to San Diego was at Thanksgiving where I wandered on the beach outside the Hotel del Coronado I incorporated that to, “Hey I can do this every Thanksgiving cause I live here” and now I do. A beach walk to start any day is good but it is my favorite way to start Turkey day. If I can get pumpkin pancakes on either side of that walk I am golden!

The other ritual I added to my San Diego Thanksgiving is to watch “The Philadelphia Story, ”a favorite movie, at some time during the day.  This old classic has Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant and Jimmy Steward and a Cracker Jack script. There is no thematic Thanksgiving connection to that movie; it is just a classic I love which was confusing for a friend of mine whom I spent Thanksgiving with. He kept waiting for the Thanksgiving part to begin; when the credits rolled he was WTF? I am not what you call a traditionalist what can I say. Rituals don’t have to make sense to anyone but you.

I build a ritual when I need to acknowledge a deeper meaning in a moment. It is a breath I take, a stillness I invoke in gratitude or in reverence.  It can be as simple as lighting a candle or making a cup of tea in my favorite mug to something more complex like a release ritual. That is where I write down something I want to release on a piece of paper and burn it with the intent of letting it go. I have done that last one in any number of venue’s from at home to at the beach. Marking intent with some type of ritual is a powerful tool, even if it’s writing a yearly blog as to the virtues of the season’s first eggnog latte.

Religions are filled with rituals so much as you can’t swing a live chicken and an obsidian knife without hitting one. As a child being raised Catholic I didn’t understand why I had to wear a doily on my head to go to church because I was a girl. Boys didn’t have to darn a doily; I didn’t understand what was so good about the part in their hair as opposed to mine? So other peoples or organizations rituals have not been ones I adopted but I loved the idea of them. I have been adapting and creating rituals in my life since my mid-twenties. One of the first rituals I created is to celebrate my birthday as a new year. I read my journal from the past year and look at all my accomplishments. I appreciate all the things I manage to muddle through even though I was afraid, or stressed or unconscious. I look at all the wonderful accomplishments I blew past once I checked them off my ‘to do’ list. I do not look at what I didn’t do. Those things are ever present on my new ‘to do’ list, OCD girl that I am. So I pop a cork and I drink a little bubbly to toast that I  showed up and tried my best. That best can even be making an ass of myself at times, or simply when I was kind, or compassionate in the face of something ugly. And then I make notes for the next year by setting new goals pushing me to do things I think are out of my reach, things I think I cannot do.

By using rituals as I do they give me small discreet building blocks toward the life I want. They help me celebrate and mourn my beginnings and endings. Which is what life is really, our comings and goings, our story.  Giving a head nod to the universe and ourselves is being present and showing up in our own life. I would hate to read about it after the fact and think sheesh what a waste of time, the plot didn’t move, the characters were wooden with no depth and nothing rang true. I would rather be part of the chaos of what ‘is’ and acknowledge the highs and the lows of them, as there is always a fine beverage, a sunset and lots of laughter built in with the thanks of my indulgence in rituals.

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Taking a break

Posted on June 24, 2012 by kyra333

It’s important to take a break from things when your head goes fuzzy and your eyes cross. This is why I am writing this short, this article, this whatnot so I can take a break from writing my third book. I’m writing for Nanowrimo, the writing challenge where you write a book during the month of November. It has to be fiction and at least fifty thousand words. Last year I wrote 51,035 words in 27 days. My brilliant editor says that some of them even make sense. She has that book now and I’m sure she might be drinking heavily but I don’t believe the two are related. I am working on another novel this November. I would say it keeps me off the streets but anyone who knows me knows that is a bold-faced lie. At least there is no red sweater involved, just a yearning to find some fun, a great plate of pasta, a pint or a fine red wine and some laughter. So to date, 11 days in to this writing challenge, I have written 21,736 words, which is ok considering I took two days off to play hooky.

So you might wonder why if I am spending hours and hours writing a book I would take time out to write this piece. I don’t really know, but I suspect that is why we are here. Ok you are here because you are killing time, procrastinating on looking for a job, calling your mother, cleaning the cat box, or doing laundry. Yea I know, you are my peeps, so you are using me as a diversion. For me this is an exploration of crazy, of why is writing this different? Or is it? Maybe it’s like coming home from vacation exhausted and thinking, ‘wow what I need is a vacation.’ But something has flicked on in me that I hoped would. That one day after struggling to find my voice, my words would just come. Some days are easy. Some days harder and halting, none of the words feeling quite right but they are there to be tapped none the less. And that is what I do: reach down, step back and allow it to flow. I don’t judge, clearly you can see that from reading my stuff, I just toss it out into the black abyss and sometimes it sticks. Sometimes someone says, “Wow that’s me.” Other times the cat box cleaning gets delayed for 5 minutes. It’s a crapshoot really, but that’s okay because I did my part.

Writing, making art, creating is taking a break from your thinking brain. I know some engineers out there that have to jump out of planes for such things but some of us don’t have to go to those extremes. What I do is trust and allow what happens to happen, even if it’s bad. You have to create bad to get to the good, simple as that. Not doing it, waiting, planning or structuring the living day lights out of something just makes it neat. Neat is rarely interesting, and perfect is dead boring. God save me from perfect, that’s no path for a curious girl like me to wander down. So taking a break and stepping back to let go is fun. And a little dangerous because I never know where I am going. I live my life a lot more like that these days; less planning and more seizing the opportunity that is presented. Sometimes that opportunity is just a different blank page.

So I ask you where is your blank page? Is it on a dance floor, in your studio, at the roller rink, a blank canvas, or writing a cool little software program? Where is it you may want to take a break and let go? Where in your life do you want to explore, play and bust expectations of what is good, worthy, or comfortable? For me it is everywhere, on most every front and a few I haven’t tripped over yet, but hey with my propensity for tripping that opportunity happens daily. I have found that life is short; people come and go at an alarming rate. Why not fill up some of your pages so folks after you know you were here and left a mark that was purely you? Really isn’t it time to take a break?

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