stacey j. warner

the Call...

2011-11-04T11:56:00.000-07:00

When people ask me why I moved to Austin, I often wrestle with what to say. I ask myself, should I tell the truth? Can they handle it?

Because, to be honest, the truth sounds a little crazy.

Sometimes I’ll say, for a better quality of life or I didn’t want to raise my son in Los Angeles. Other times, I’ll actually just blurt out the truth, my psychic told me to, well, actually the Thems told my psychic to mention it and when They speak, I listen.

It was The Call. I’d been waiting for it, biding my time, doing what I thought I was meant to be doing, living in LA, writing, working at Lionsgate. It had started to feel I was living a quarter of the life I was meant to but until I got a sign, I was staying put.

When I first heard Austin on that February day, I wasn’t sure what to think. Finally, I was hearing, move, a word I’d been wanting to hear for years and there I was feeling so lazy that the thought of moving made me want to crawl into bed and not peek out.

But, if I didn’t do this than I’d be left with nothing. My faith is the most important thing to me and not following the signs meant to me I didn’t trust God, the Universe, or the Thems.

I had to move.

Moving was surrendering.

It was time.

But there were and still are times that I ask myself, am I crazy?

my peaceful view and Chad...

2011-08-06T08:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Cole and I were swimming in the pool when a helicopter started circling overhead. It was green, non descript so I couldn’t make out what it was doing but I had a feeling it couldn’t be good. Usually I wouldn’t think twice about a helicopter circling. In Hollywood it was the norm. Searchlights flashing through the living room went unnoticed but here in Austin, I watched it like an exotic bird hoping it wasn’t surveying a small forest fire. We live on the edge of a greenbelt and it’s bone dry here, we would have to kiss our newly rented condo good-bye.

After more than two hours of swimming and helicopter circling it was time to head back to the condo. As we reached the top of the hill, a police car crawled by and continued down our quiet, tree covered road, and parked in the front of our entrance –guarding it.

“Are we safe,” Cole asked.

“Yes,” I said remembering when I was about his age, living in Mays Pond, a suburb of Seattle, my neighbor saw a man hanging out on the side of my house and called the police. Within minutes, they were there. The man was already gone. Nothing goes unnoticed in the suburbs.

The good news was that with the arrival of the police it most likely wasn’t a forest fire. The bad news was it was probably a criminal on the run. I hurried Cole into the house and locked the door behind us. I didn’t want to scare him but I also didn’t want him to think nothing was going on. It is important for children to read the signs, listen to their instincts, and respond accordingly.

We settled into dinner standing in our kitchen. We still don’t have furniture and Cole is sanctioned to eating in the kitchen because of the off-white carpeting. Before long, I heard a loud woman’s voice. My first thought was, oh great we do have loud neighbors but it sounded different, almost like a TV.

I stepped outside on the patio. “We are know you are in the house,” boomed across the canyon. “I can not guarantee your safety if you stay in the house. You need to exit on the West side of building with nothing in your hands. We know who you are.”

They know who he is?

“CHAD, you must exit the house and talk to the police,” reverberated through the canyon. Wow, I thought, this is different. Even though Chad had obviously done something wrong, there was still care and understanding in the woman's tone. The anonymity of LA gone.

As I listened, I noticed people moving with flashlights down in the greenbelt. I hoped it was the police and not more of Chad’s crew on the lam.

The police gave Chad plenty of time to get out of the house. At one point I thought I heard gunshots but when I went outside the police woman’s voice droned the same information. “Chad you must exit the house on the west side. I can not guarantee your safety.” No fear or panic present.

Eventually Chad must have left the house. I’m not sure what time. By 12:30am when I was sitting on my patio enjoying my Sleepy Tim tea while meditating on the sound of the wind rustling the trees, the moon and the stars, it was quiet.

Perhaps this was God’s way of saying welcome to Austin, you aren’t that far from Hollywood. I must confess. I did keep my eye on the greenbelt for those flashlights shimmering through the trees.

Me...by Cole Warner

2011-05-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

Me is a good word. It can be used in many ways. Me is like a point of view. Me can mean it's yourself.

much love,
-stacey

when I am lost...

2011-02-10T06:04:00.000-08:00

The mornings and the evenings are the strangest of times. Those brief moments when Cole is asleep or reading before sleep and I am alone. These are the moments I find myself lost, not knowing quite what to do. Life doesn't feel quite the same.

I have come to realize that even though my relationship with K was over, I had held on to the fantasy that one day we would have a Romantic Comedy ending. He would call or knock on my door, chase me down the isle on my wedding day to another man and profess his love to me. I was -delusional.

But I don't believe I was alone. I believe there were other fair maidens out there touched by K's magic like Orpheus and his music. They, too, believed that one day he would enter Hades to retrieve them but they were fooled by the magic of his music, there can only be one Eurydice.

In those moments when I am lost, I find myself staring at this painting of Orpheus leading Eurydice through the woods. The fair maidens across the water, mourning not being chosen and Eurydice being led unknowingly to what would end in her death -lost in him, in a trance. In all the photos of Orpheus and Eurydice there is no joy, only pain, suffering and longing...

in mourning...

2011-02-04T09:40:00.000-08:00

On Monday I discovered, through Facebook, that "Luke," the man I'd been seeing for the better part of a year but had broken up with in June, had passed away from a skydiving accident. back in July. He was 44 and left behind two children.

I'm not sure why I'm writing about it here. Perhaps as a test run, to see how it feels to type the words of his death in a public forum. To get over my fear of him being dead, me being alive, and continuing to write about him. He has been the subject of all my writing since July. He is major part of my memoir. He was the mirror that showed me that I was a Love Addict. Now he is a mirror, showing me the deeper layers of my core issues.

When I met him, there was instant chemistry. I actually wrote about our first date here, on my blog, but once he became a "follower" I deleted it. I didn't want him to know how smitten I was. In the personal essay I recently finished and was just beginning the process of rewriting I wrote, "Our first hello was a kiss and a hug and I could have sworn I'd kissed that spot between his chin and neck a million times before. I flashed to our wedding day."

It's strange to think back to that time, I felt that I knew directly from Spirit that I was going to meet someone of significance in May. So when I met Luke, (I have the hardest time calling him by a different name now) I truly believed he was the "one."

His death is an opportunity for great healing. There are so many details about his passing, the timing of it, how I found out, what it felt like, what is happening now, the layers of grief that I'm not sure where to begin.

I've been looking back on my blog to see what I had been writing about the day he died, July 18, 2010. The title was "divine plan..." and it was about him. The day before I had written about the last texts we had sent to each other and my words seem too final now.

In happier times, I wrote this, "synchronicity, the dress, and the tattoo..."

much love
-stacey

St. Joan of Arc...

2011-02-02T21:36:00.000-08:00

I hear the voice of God
and I want to save people
and in it I sacrifice myself

K. I feel the abuse you had as a child. I felt my
mother's abuse. I just want to save them and I hear
the voice of God.

All is forgiven, forgive
your selves.

I will not be rescued
my prince is not coming
There is no fantasy to
sustain me. I am what I have,
that and God.

I can do this.
I can do this.

I can esteem myself.
I can have healthy boundaries.

I can have self worth if I have nothing.

R.I.P, KLM - I feel your love and I love you, truly, madly, deeply. I know you are still "following" me. xoxo-dork

God bless!

much love,
-stacey

poetry in motion...

2011-01-21T06:37:00.000-08:00

The "American Sentence," one sentence of seventeen syllables, was created by Allen Ginsberg. He was inspired by the traditional Japanese haiku -three lines of five, seven and five syllables.

As a writer, I use the structure to play with words and find my muse. However, if you aren't a writer, it is a fun way to shake up your day and bring a little magic into the moment.

Here are a few I wrote while driving in my car, sitting at my desk, etc.

Morning mist obscures the light shining through my curtains, another day

Quiet moon fills, closing the gap of time, blasting tender dreams of yesterday.

Tattoo sleeves chain smoke while fingers text furiously, what causes the fever of time?

Child stranded under horse, piss, dust, blood, smell of fear and where was I?

My eyes open to find you studying my face lost in it's own ecstacy.

Beside me always without question, me a caged bird silently chirping.

Please give it a go and share. I'd love to hear your poetry. We are all poets.

the drive home...

2010-12-11T18:31:00.000-08:00

The other night, while driving my seven-year-old son, Cole, home from school, he asked, "What are those guys dressed in black and white and move like this called?" I glanced behind me as he moved like he was stuck behind an invisible wall.

"A mime?"

"Yes, a mime. Why are they called mimes?"

I went on to explain that when they are wearing their special outfits they don't speak but only gesture.

"Oh, like my teacher's boyfriend."

This gave me pause until I remembered his teacher's boyfriend is deaf.

"Yeah, sort of, I'd never thought about it that way, very smart of you, to put those two together."

I looked in the rear view mirror, smiled and prayed that, that was the end of his fascination with mimes.

purpose...

2010-11-28T19:55:00.000-08:00

George Bernard Shaw-

This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

bali, no baby

2010-11-26T14:56:00.000-08:00

I sat on the toilet and peed, tapping my feet against the cold tile floor. I’d hoped that somehow this might change my fate, flushing the sperm away before it reached my fertile egg. I knew it was crazy. I’d never heard of anyone not getting pregnant because they peed after a “slip,” but it was the first thing that came to mind. So there I was, peeing.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to have a baby. In fact, it was my lack of a relationship and being childless that had spurred me into planning a move to Bali to teach yoga and write. Or really, if I’m to be honest, escape. At thirty-two, I just couldn’t take watching another one of my friends walk down the aisle and then, a year later, announce that she was pregnant. It was too depressing. I was desperate, and Bali in February was the answer. Or so I thought.

I crawled back into bed, next to Ryan, the possible baby-daddy.

“I just got pregnant,” I whispered, not really wanting him to hear, but needing to say it out loud.

He rolled away from me, more interested in sleep.

I lay next to him, counting when the baby would be due: February.

Ryan was not my boyfriend. He had been, but on this night he was a booty-call. We had dated for nine months and had been separated for the same time. After the break-up, I became a yoga teacher and spent my life in meditation. Maybe too much meditation, because I felt like I was floating three inches off the ground. In order to “come down to earth,” I had the brilliant idea of having sex. It happened that Ryan was available.

Our relationship had been like a Movie of the Week, with me a co-dependent love addict, him just an addict, and the two of us entangled until our final conflict on 9/11. That morning, after the first tower crashed to the ground, I had driven zombie-like to work. Once there, and after the second tower collapsed, I called him crying.

He asked, “What are you crying about,” knowing that thousands of people were dying. He spent the rest of the day in a bar, playing pool and drinking while I sat with girlfriends, devouring the news. Later that night, he passed out on my couch. It was over.

Now, nine months later, and suffering a lapse of judgment, we found ourselves in bed, with me wondering how I, or we, would manage to raise this baby.

Two weeks later, we sat at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, waiting for my doctor’s appointment. We had continued to see each other, but we weren’t gushing and giddy like two people falling back in love. We were fairly certain this wasn’t going to work and were just waiting to see if I was pregnant. .

“If you don’t want to be a part of this, you can walk away," I told him. "I won’t come looking for you.” I waved his cigarette smoke out of my face.

But he had been reared by a single mother and had experienced that hardship first-hand, so his sense of guilt would have him going nowhere. At the doctor’s office, my pregnancy test came back negative. Ryan glowed when I told him, but I was fairly certain I could still feel the cells dividing in my uterus. His relief was temporary.

We went to see “Minority Report” and it was there that I knew for certain that I was pregnant. During the intense scenes, I felt this tiny being’s emotions vibrating through me. I touched my stomach and smiled, in awe of what was happening.

After the movie, we went back to his place. We’d had a huge argument in the truck over him smoking around me, and for a moment I’d thought it would be a relief if I weren't pregnant. For one thing, I’d never have to see this guy again. I turned on my cell phone; there was a message. It was my doctor. I was pregnant. After we had left his office, the test turned positive. Ryan tried to put his arms around me, but I got up and paced, tears of joy and fear fighting a war of competition. I finally collapsed on the bed, crying.

“I’m tiny. I’m tiny," I wept. "I’m so little in this bigness of creating life. I feel so small.”

Then Ryan crumpled next to me. We lay side by side, staring at the ceiling, crying tears of joy and fear. We were on an unexpected journey together, whether we liked it or not. Who knew then where it would lead? For me, it wasn’t Bali in February. It was a baby.

divorced...

2010-10-29T22:06:00.000-07:00

“We are getting a divorce and think its best you each decide which parent you want to live with,” said my mom.

I was eleven. My sister was thirteen and a half.

The hovering bomb had finally dropped. We stood, motionless, in shock like four lost souls lingering over their dead bodies.

What do we do now?

Where was the light?

Then we floated apart. My dad and sister went for a walk. My mom went to the kitchen and I took council with Henry, my stuffed monkey.

“Alana will go with mom.” I picked at Henry’s loose, felt nostril. “She doesn’t like dad and he doesn’t like her.” (Alana was the glue of our fate; the accidental pregnancy.) Henry’s brown eyes and perpetual pink smile stared back it me, always available.

“I’m about to start getting my period.” I whispered, falling back on the bed, hugging him close.

I can’t imagine anything worse than asking dad for pads or tampons.

“I have no choice, Henry. I have to go with mom.” I closed my eyes.

Later, I stood in the doorway of my parent’s room. My sight obscured by welling tears. My dad, alone, looked up from his book and smiled.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted and ran to him, sobbing.

A year later, I’d watch my parents remarry each other.

Six years after that, I’d go through a similar scene, in the kitchen, mom leaning against the counter, my dad against the stove, me at the kitchen table, again deciding what to do, but this time I was eighteen. I had no interest in becoming a surrogate wife to my dad and my mom was done. I chose to move out.

Perhaps this is why I have no interest in marriage.

Luckily, I still have Henry.

life radiates from within...

2010-10-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

It's been two months from the last day I wrote - a mere coincidence.

I must admit, after coming to terms with being a fantasy addict (which as far as I'm concerned incorporates sex, love, romance) I went silent. Nothing was wrong per say, I just needed to go in the cave and be still. I wanted to lick my self-created wounds in privacy and not be commented on.

Unable to work on my memoir because it no longer made sense with my new found self-diagnoses, I wondered if it wouldn't just end up another great idea I wouldn't finish and did it matter? I have so many journals filled with words, I have finally started throwing my writing away.

I toppled into ego, feeling if I couldn't be the best writer than why write? What did I have to say that was different than anyone else? Why waste my time? Do you smell another ego driven fantasy lurking? One that needed dismantling...so there I found myself slowly unraveling my need for my writing to save me.

And then quite suddenly all of my fantasies were gone...pop.

Who am I?

I am still assimilating. I am clearer than I've ever been. I am quiet. Slowly I am learning to write because I enjoy it, in the moment with no expectations.

I wake up every morning, I give thanks, I walk my dog, I write, I drink tea, I meditate, I wake up Cole, I drop him off at school, I go to work. The evenings have a similar routine.

But it is in this routine that I have found everything I could ever want. There is nothing lacking. Even if my house were bigger with an Oscar sitting on the mantel holding up the book I'd published, with an adoring husband waiting to kiss me good-night -the routine would be the same, I would still be there, nothing would have truly changed. This is what it means to chop wood, carry water. I've never understood the term before.

Life radiates from within...always.

letter to a friend...

2010-08-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

This is an email I wrote towards the beginning of a new friendship a few months back when things felt a little rough. I never sent it and our friendship didn't last. I came upon it a couple days ago and Mia suggested I share it. So here it is...

Hey C,

Just wanted to touch base so the fissure I'm feeling in our relationship doesn't become a strange crevasse. I'm writing because I'm better at writing than speaking, always having been.

First and foremost I love you. It's simple. The rest I'm figuring out. I feel there is just this unease in our relationship I have only felt one other time with my friend, Gemma. It was several years ago. Unfortunately I didn't have the communication skills to deal with the situation so we just stopped being friends. The end of that relationship held me hostage for several years. Back then, I also didn't have many girlfriends so I didn't have the experience of having close bonds with women. Women can't be manipulated like men. They don't care. It is a very different experience.

Back then I was very competitive with women, especially with Gemma. But I no longer feel that way and haven't for a long time. I want my friends to do well and prosper, find love and be happy. I'm not a jealous person. I'm not saying the dragon is completely dead that would be a lie, sometimes it rears it's head but it comes up and it goes away, very quickly almost like a memory of an emotion and not a real emotion. It doesn't have a lot of power.

The one thing I remember clearest about Gemma is her need to always one up me, to appear as if she had more knowledge than me and didn't allow for my experience of my own life whatever it might have been. Also, whenever we communicated I came away feeling slimed energetically. She had a way of saying things that felt like her intention was to get me, not to share her experience but to share it in a way that would trigger me. I never felt loved and supported. Gemma also didn't have female friends that "threatened" her spotlight. She was all about her image, how she appeared. She still has this problem, which is really just a cover for the sadness and loneliness and insecurity in her life even though she is married, two kids, and has millions of dollars.

I learned a long time ago, the only place to find happiness is inside me. This is my work, this is my lesson. I bring service to each of my relationships. I love my friends and I want them to be happy.

I guess I'm wondering what is it you want from this relationship. What are your needs?

I must be honest and say I do not feel supported by you. I do not feel loved. I usually feel energetically "slimed" after spending time with you. And you know what is funny, I have a feeling you might feel the same way after spending time with me which means there is something in this for both of us. There is something here to learn.

veil of perception...

2010-07-31T08:18:00.000-07:00

I’ve been reading a bunch of memoir lately -research on voice. I find it fascinating that the way a writer puts words together creates voice and in the end character. But that’s not my topic for today. The other thing I find fascinating is the ending of a memoir. The genre of memoir I’ve been reading most is “chic lit” and if the girl doesn’t end up with a man the story often ends with something like, “I knew I was going to be OK.”

Which translates to –I love myself. But my question is how does a fucked up co-dependent who has never been shown how to love by the people who were suppose to teach her how to love even know how to begin to love herself? (Yes, I’m talking about me.) I believe we all know that loving ourselves is the answer but getting there often feels like being in a dense forest covered in fog –lost and not knowing where to begin.

The veil of codependence masks everything. In order to learn to love one’s self you basically have to throw out the bath water of your perception of reality. You have to choose to create a different reality from the inside out. As a recovering codependent, I have to learn how to reinterpret and create a different reaction to every little event that happens to me.

And we wonder why there are so many alcoholics and drug addicts –because it is easier to numb our shame and sadness than learn to reinterpret our reality. Co-dependence comes first than addiction. You can take away the addiction but that is only the beginning.

This is no easy task and for a psychic-co-dependent even tougher because you are playing on two levels of the game at the same time. The first level is the manifest world, what is created and playing out (although ever changing) it is what is. The other level is what has yet to manifest and one receives “information” about people. Throughout my life I’ve been given information about people (it has only been in the past two years I’ve learned how to discern it). Thinking if I knew this about them, than they must know this about themselves and I would just say it leaving a trail of wounded images behind me, not aware that I was hurting and harming because I did it from a place of love, unconscious love but love all the same.

Thinking you know how another should live their life is a trait of codependence.

Luckily, I’ve learned to bite my tongue –for the most part. I still mess up sometimes.

So what does it feel like to love one’s self? To be honest, I’ve only recently experienced this fully. I’ve been working on it consciously for over five years but only a few months ago did I feel it in my core.

love avoidant...

2010-07-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

Love Avoidants have the conscious fear of intimacy and the unconscious fear of abandonment.

After fighting to be in relationship with Luke for months, the Captain was a welcome reprieve. His need of love filled me with the love I’d longed for from Luke. I was aware that my feelings for the Captain were not as strong as they were for Luke but I figured it was because he was returning my affection. He was always there. No need to chase him. Within days of our second date he had ten shirts in my closet and I didn’t fuss. I didn’t think it was too much too soon because I was in the desert and he was my oasis.

Until I felt like his mother, reminding him to brush his teeth, eat healthy, exercise and to be more responsible financially, soon all attraction washed out the door like after a flood. I suddenly was overwhelmed and drained. I was already raising one child, I didn’t need two. The Captain made me responsible for how he felt. If we were okay, he was okay and to keep him feeling we were okay, took too much energy. I was getting zapped and dragged down into the murk.

So I broke up with him –not easy for a love addict/avoidant but I did it.

Because suddenly, taking care of me was more important than taking care of him. I had enough faith to believe that if I said no to him, he would not be the last man to love me (not easy for an addict who has been deprived all her life) and this was the beginning of my recovery –the very beginning because I still was unaware I had a problem.

I’m sixteen, walking into my family’s house. It is a split level house. The entry way is a landing with stairs going up or down. My mother is upstairs in the spare bedroom watching TV. My father is downstairs in the basement watching TV. Which way should I go? Up or down? Who will I hurt?

According to Pia Mellody, I was emotionally sexually abused by both my parents.

“Enmeshment is a form of emotional sexual abuse. It happens when parents draw a child into the midst of the adult relationship they are having. Parents who draw their children into their relationship are usually too immature to be intimate with another adult; they find it too threatening and too painful. But they realize they can be intimate with their children because the children (1) are vulnerable and (2) won’t abandon them, but must stay near them for survival. So one or both of a Love Avoidant’s parents have a relationship with him or her that is more important to this parent than the relationship with the other parent.” –Facing Love Addiction by Pia Mellody

My parents hated each other. I was the significant relationship for each of them because I was an emotionally vibrant child -accessible. My sister was stoic and unreachable.

All of this abuse completely invisible. It was just a slow turn of the screw over many years.

stay tuned...

as we continue...

2010-07-21T10:38:00.000-07:00

As we continue on this journey, I wanted to take a moment to say thanks for joining me and leaving your thoughtful comments. Please know, that I am currently blissfully happy and that this story has a happy ending so there is no need to be concerned or worried for me.

I write in hopes that I will help others by sharing my process, that is all.

Much love to you. I will be posting Love Avoidant soon...

love addict...

2010-07-20T13:53:00.000-07:00

“Hi, my name is Stacey Warner and I’m a codependent – love addict.”

I’ve never been one for labeling myself. In fact I’ve been such a non conformist that the first time I traveled by myself, I refused to follow the crowd getting off the plane. So where else does one go after getting of a plane but baggage claim? Nowhere. Right? But there I was proving to my invisible judge and jury that I knew better than anyone only to end up at baggage claim fifteen minutes later.

Codependents live in the life of one up, one down, always comparing themselves to everyone, even the invisibles. Am I one up or one down?

The following week I spoke to the Captain.

“I’ve just discovered that I am a love addict and codependent with a twist - I’m also a love avoidant. In my relationship with Luke, I was the addict -with you, the avoidant. I don’t think it's wise for us to see each other even as friends because I can feel your need and want of me like an addict and I get a jolt from it. It isn’t healthy for either one of us and it is leading you on,” I said.

Weeks later he would send me an email that said, “I’m still having Stacey withdrawals.” I didn’t respond. It wasn't easy.

So how does one become a love addict?

Pia says it best, “One way such children may escape the pain of severe abandonment by the parents is to fantasize about being rescued by a hero of some kind. Little girls may imagine a knight in shining armor who has loving feelings for her and who does things that demonstrate this love by connecting with her, finally giving her life meaning and vitality. The fantasy is often very much like the fairy tale Sleeping Beauty, in which Sleeping Beauty lies asleep, out of touch with herself and her surroundings, until the life-giving kiss of Prince Charming awakens her. Children spend so much time in this fantasy world because it creates a state of Euphoria….I think that when we put a pleasurable picture in our minds and think about it, we can stimulate an emotional response to it that may lead to the release of endorphins into our system. Endorphins literally relieve emotional pain and create varying degrees of Euphoria. Such children come to believe that by connecting with such a hero, they, like Sleeping Beauty, will come alive and be safe and valuable at last.”

But how does this rooted fantasy that has become a belief play out as an adult?

“…the selected rescuer also demonstrates this love by an initial and usually intense connection with the Love Addict, which finally gives meaning and vitality to the Love Addict’s life. Love Addicts do not see who they other party really is, but instead see the image they created in childhood. They focus on this fantasy image, which they placed like a beautiful mask over the head of the real human being. Love Addicts assign to their partners all the qualities of their childhood fantasy rescuers. Ignoring their partner’s reality, good qualities and bad, Love Addicts truly believe that their partners have the fantasy rescuer’s attributes and wills soon create a wonderful life of wall-to-wall loving and caring.” -Pia Mellody Facing Love Addiction

Sounds bananas, right? I would think its impossible if I hadn’t lived through it. The first time I met Luke, it was love at first sight (sign of an addict). I shook from head to toe. When we greeted each other I knew he was my future husband. Looking back, I'll guess that is when the mask went on him. After that, he was my rescuer and the real him went away.

Who was the real Luke? Let’s just say he was nothing like my fantasy of him and not a person that in my right mind I would ever date. Slowly, I was able to break the mask and see his true colors. But to be honest, if he were to text me today, I’d definitely need to be talked down. It would take all my will power not respond, just for a little fix, thinking, this time I’ll handle it or maybe he’s changed and he does want me now. I would rationalize it, a girl needs her sex, he’ll just be my lover, life is boring, what’s the harm of a little romance, just this once, …

Just like an alcoholic.
Addict behavior isn’t pretty. I had a feeling the tides were changing after Luke, remember my post, The Last High. This was written before I knew Love Addiction was “real.” It was just how I felt.

The tricky thing about being a love addict is my conscious fear is abandonment but my unconsciouos fear is intimacy so when the mask does begin to break, I want to run.

Today I find solace in the label –love addict. It defines a sickness I’ve struggled with all my life. It lets me know I’m not crazy and if I get healthy, I will be able to have a loving and lasting relationship. These days, I’m fairly clear when I’m in my “disease” but it doesn’t mean that someday as time goes on and I feel healthy after being on my own, I won’t rationalize my way back into it. It is love after all.

My story is far from over...next up, how did I become a love avoidant?

stay tuned…

codependent...

2010-07-19T11:38:00.000-07:00

As luck would have it, a week before receiving Luke’s text, I’d ordered books on co-dependence for research on my memoir. The books were Facing Codependence, Facing Love Addiction, and The Intimacy Factor, all by Pia Mellody. I’d read the first book several years ago but wanted to read it again because I had a feeling that the main issue in my relationship with MM, the subject of my memoir, was co-dependence and rereading the book would help me with writing the book. Little did I know?

I devoured Facing Codependence in two days. I’d always known I teetered on the edge of co-dependence but reading the book this time blew my mind. It was crystal clear that I am a full on co-dependent and it has been calling the shots. Perhaps it hit me because this time I was no longer in denial.

Here is a quote that spoke to my core my issue, “Although it happened unconsciously, it was as if by constituting the earlier abuse situation the codependent spouse could now get (besides the security of the familiar) another chance to be “perfect” or “pleasing” enough to free himself or herself from the exaggerated shame, fear, pain, and anger that had been carried since childhood. It came out that these feelings had colored and crippled many of the codependents’ relationships for a lifetime.” –Facing Codependence by Pia Mellody. This quote also spoke directly to what Mia had said to me five years ago.

The last time I saw Luke all the telltale signs of the disease were there. I sat at his table eating grapefruit from his tree while commenting on how good it was and fantasizing about us living in his shambler shack raising our boys together, eating fruit from our trees. The truth was, I hated grapefruit but he was so excited about it, he had romanticized it and I needed him to like me, want me, choose me so I ate it like it was a chocolate brownie. Then when he wasn't looking, I secretly threw it in the garbage. I was possessed.
Moments later he was making another cup of coffee and I asked if I could have one too.

“COULD YOU HELP THEN?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he said slamming a pan down on the stove.

My spine sprung erect. I was back in my family’s home walking on egg shells afraid to ask for anything or do anything. I only did what I thought would please them, to get love.

This is the disease. This is not me.

Next, I picked up FACING LOVE ADDICTION and there I was in black and white, a love addict. Everything I thought was real in my life wasn’t, what I thought was love, wasn’t –just a disease.

“Love addiction, therefore, is an addiction that often becomes visible to the codependent only after some work has been done on the core symptoms of codependence.” It was a glimmer of hope. At least I had done enough work on the codependence to be able to see the love addiction.

But this epiphany shattered the concept of my memoir.

stay tuned...

exorcism...

2010-07-17T08:26:00.000-07:00

About two months ago, while driving to work I received a text from Luke, the guy I’d been tormented by for the past year with his love game play -the guy I thought I was madly in love with. I had recently told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him again unless we were committed to each other. I felt we had a future, and I couldn’t take the push and pull.

Around the same time, I was also seeing The Captain again but just as friends. Although I new he wanted more. The Captain had fallen madly in love with me last fall and I thought I was in love with him but I wasn't. It was wishful thinking. Mia had told me a man would open my heart in October. When he popped in around October I thought he'd be the one and he was. He was the one to show me a different kind of relationship, one based in friendship, trust, love and my heart did open but he wasn't the "one." There wasn’t chemistry and too much baggage.

I open Luke’s text. It reads, “I’m dating my x-wife again...thought I should tell you. After all you have been a great influence and teacher as well.” I throw my phone in my purse. My hands shake. I pick it up again and start writing something nice and supportive even though I am shaking with anger or sadness. Every emotion rushes through me like a line of cocaine racing threw my veins to my heart. I call Mia but she is sleeping and in her soft mew mew voice tells me to call back.

I text, “Be well...good luck.” But I know this is probably going to be the last time I ever speak to him so why hold back? Somewhere deep down inside me, I can honestly see how fucked up I am for even caring if he goes back to this woman. A woman who kept is child from him as punishment.

A few minutes later I write another text, “Just remember a leopard doesn’t change its spots. This woman kept you from your son for vengeance. Now you are in bed with her. It is not love. It is image in its truest form...be well. My love to your son who is being used as a pawn.”

He writes back, “lol...”

Then I begin to doubt myself. What if they do think they are truly in love? I’m in image right now with my head way up my ass. Why do I care about this narcissistic asshole? What the fuck?

So I write, “I do pray you both heal through your love for one another...bye,” and I mean it as much as I can in the moment.

His final words to me are, “whatever Stacey...see you.”

That was it. I felt like I had just been through an exorcism –a demon ripped from my body. I was spent, but I also knew it was just the beginning...

stay tuned...

Mt. Everest...

2010-05-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

We all have our Mt. Everest's to climb, whether it be to find a new job, quit a job, travel the world, swim across the English channel, stop drinking, stop smoking, get out of an abusive relationship or write a book. It is whatever takes tremendous effort, focus, will power, and requires us to face our greatest fear -failure. We all have a Mt. Everest -even if you think you don't, you do and if you really don't, you've checked out of life so getting back into life is your Mt. Everest.

My Everest, if you haven't guessed already is writing a book. Those of you who have been reading my blog are probably thinking, but you've been writing? You've been working on this book. What's the big deal and why NOW? Well, let me tell you, in the past couple of months I've had a tremendous shift. One I can only compare to the Magnetic Poles actually reversing on Earth. It was subtle, no big KAPOW! But it has left its impact all the same.

I won't go into the nitty-gritty details but I will say this, that the constructs I've used all my life to cope are gone -disappeared like someone pulled a tree out of my psyche with all it's roots and nothing is left except the erasure and barely that. My former self is a shadow.

Now you are probably wondering, what were your constructs and what does it have to do with your writing? One of my constructs, which you already know about was believing that a man was going to save me. I really believed that my life would not be complete until I was with someone -that I wouldn't fit in, have enough money and wouldn't be accepted. This is gone and it is HUGE. I honestly from the depth of my soul no longer depend on a man showing up. I'm open to it but I'm not wanting. This fantasy is dead.

The other construct I had was that someday I would write something that would change my life -make me rich, save me, finally I would be seen and accepted. My focus was on being saved by my writing, which in turn meant getting published. Yes, I had done all the work, taking classes, etc. but the intention was in the wrong place.

Only recently has it landed in the right place. I no longer need the book to be published, if it does -GREAT! But I'm writing this book because I have to. The story has been given to me as a gift from the Universe and I must write it. My intention is to learn the craft of writing and I mean learn it. I'm going to jump in and get dirty and hopefully find my voice. I know the story is good enough. Now I have to do it justice and play!

And it feels like Everest because for the first time it isn't a fantasy. It is real and I might fail, the first time, and the second time, and the third time. The question is will I give up? And that is the fear because I know if I don't succeed in completing this book with writing that touches my readers and tells my story it is because somewhere I gave up.

And I don't know if I could live with that...I've been given my Everest and there by the grace of God, I will reach the summit.

to grow...

2010-05-13T16:14:00.000-07:00

"You will not grow if you sit in a beautiful garden, but you will grow if you are sick, if you are in pain, if you experience losses, and if you don't put your head in the sand, but take the pain and learn to accept it, not as a curse or punishment but as a gift to you with a very specific purpose." -Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

dark little figure and Jung...

2010-05-10T15:28:00.000-07:00

In 1999, I was studying Jung and did a few workshops. Jung believed we all have many archetypes within us that we can access in various ways. In one workshop I learned how to access my archetypes through automatic writing. Of course the first archetype that showed up was the little girl, Stacey. The second was my higher-self. Through the years I’ve often used this exercise when I’ve needed guidance.

Here is a sample of this type of writing from 1999 –there is such sweet innocence in this piece. You'll see what I mean.

June 28, 1999

I would like to have a dialogue with the Teacher, with the Knowing One, I can not picture you but I know your words are comforting to me and will remind me of my day and all it will bring. Perhaps you are even the “me” I want to be.

Me: Why do I stop and get so lazy? It’s like being a child again and just sitting around watching TV instead of doing anything. I know there is a wealth of pleasures to be had at my computer with Anne Boleyn (I was working on a screenplay). Why do I stop myself? I didn’t even write yesterday.

Other: So many questions. Calm yourself. You say you were tired but you were actually just afraid. You are afraid.

Me: What am I afraid of? I seem to be afraid of so much lately.

Other: You are afraid of failing, which makes me laugh because you have done so much and have come so far. You need to discipline yourself.

Me: I feel so restrained and disciplined already. I don’t go out and party. I see my friends. I want so much more. I want to come home every night and write the script and be excited about it and I’m not.

Other: Why aren’t you?

Me: Well it hasn’t anything to do with not liking the subject matter. It has to do with some dark little figure that doesn’t want me to be all that I can be.

Other: Maybe that’s who you should talk to.

Me: Yes. You are right. Dark Little Figure where are you? I know you are present.

DLF: Yes, I’m here.

Me: Why do you come so often my life and stop me from doing what I truly want to be doing.

DLF: Well I’ve been around for a long time and you are very use to living with me and listening to me. You find comfort in me. You always listen to me.

Me: Well I don’t want to listen to you anymore. It is a constant battle with you and I’m tired of it.

DLF: I just give you ideas. You don’t have to follow them. I think you have a good balance.

Me: But see that’s where you are wrong. I don’t have a good balance. I slept most of the weekend and watched movies instead of doing work on Anne Boleyn. Now I feel like a loser. It makes me not like me. I feel best when I write, eat well, and exercise. It seems so simple but there you are always…eat all the corn muffins, watch 'The Practice'.

DLF: Like I said, you have let me lead you for a long time. Stop allowing me to lead you. You know what to do. Haven’t you felt my presence lessen in the past year?

Me: Yes. I know that I am doing much better. I just have to realize you are there to be reckoned with. That I will hear you but I will not follow what you say most of the time like I do now. I’m also very tired of comparing myself with other people.

Higher Self: You are on your own path. There is a ray of light through you and around you! I will always be here for you. You need not compare yourself with anyone. You are divine.

Me: Thank you. I will think of you often.

Okay, so you get the idea. For me it was being lazy, watching too much of The Practice and eating corn muffins but for you it might be alcohol, food, depression etc. It is whatever keeps you from being your best self. This exercise is great because you can dialogue with anything, even an emotion.

Can I just say thank God, for my Higher Self? Wow, I barely knew her back then and she just came in and saved the day.

The Higher Self is the God Spark in all of us.

May your day be blessed and know that you also are divine, just ask your Higher Self!

today...

2010-05-07T15:36:00.000-07:00

I've been a hermit lately -at least in the bloggy world. Sometimes one has to live life silently, not out loud. I've been silent. Is it a phase? Perhaps. I believe in taking one day at a time -come what may.

Today, I wanted to share a picture of Punkey.

I've also been going through my journals looking for quotes I've written down throughout the years that touched my heart and made my soul leap. Why? For my book proposal. I love books that use quotes to capture their essence.

What touched me then, touches me now and I am reminded of who I am. I've been a seeker all my life. The wisdom from then stands the test of time and I am still learning the same lessons -still. It shows me the intricacy of karma. What a warrior of God/Spirit one must become to banish the tethers of Karma. Karma is not about thought. Karma is about soul. Until you feel the shift in your soul, the Karma repeats.

While on my search, I found this quote and was inspired to share it with you as well. Funny, I just reread it having forgotten what it was about...it made me chuckle.

I jotted this down in 1998 and unfortunately didn't write down the book it is from but the page it can be found on is 76.

"There is only one way to shift your consciousness from painful conditional attachments to peaceful unconditional love. You must create new expectations based on honor, respect, and support. Honor what you feel by believing you can have what you want. Respect where you are in your life, understanding when you are ready to move forward you will. Support yourself by refusing to accept less than you want. This is your foundation -what you do now and how you treat yourself. "

PUNKEY...

2010-04-28T16:06:00.000-07:00

Have you been wondering where I've been? I have too! No, not really but things got a little crazy a week ago last Friday when I went with a friend to an animal shelter to help her decided whether or not to adopt a dog she'd been looking at for over a week. I thought if I went with her, she would finally make a decision but it turned out I'd be the one needing to make a decision. I fell in love with a little long haired dachshund, three years old, named Punkey.

We got back to the office and I couldn't stop thinking about this little dog. I looked at her picture on the internet over and over. I called the manager of my building and asked if I could get a dog. He told me to write a letter to the landlord and explain that I wanted a dog. He'd pick it up on Monday. I hadn't told him that I had found the perfect dog.

That night I dreamt I was pregnant.

On Saturday, unable to fall out of love with the little one, I took Goom to meet her and we all fell in love. I adopted her then and there without even knowing if I could have her. (This is so unlike me.) I was a ball of stress. Luckily (unluckily) she needed to be spade so I wouldn't be able to pick her up until Monday. After adopting her, I called the manager again and said I had found the perfect dog and I fear she will be adopted so could he push the paperwork through? I know, I lied and I never lie but desperate times call for desperate measures. I was out of my head -frantic.

Sunday I couldn't take it anymore and called the manager again, confessing that I had adopted the dog and if I had to move, I would move.

Monday, Cole and I go to pick up Punkey at the veterinary. I was juggling, coned dog, boy, car alarm going off so once I got boy and dog in the car safely, I drove off leaving my purse on the sidewalk. It only took a few block before I discovered it was missing, and at the same time the vet called to tell me someone had brought it in. Yes, I had my cell phone in the car, not in my purse -rare. I always count my blessings.

With purse, boy and dog we made our way home to introduce the newest member of our family to our cats, Chopper and Izzy. Izzy hissed when she got hit in the face with tail, taking it personally. It will take awhile to learn their new spacial awareness.

I went to bed that night, completely stressed out. I hadn't been that stressed out since I brought Cole home from the hospital. In the middle of night during a little anxiety attack, I thought, yes I was pregnant and I had a dog.

I'll post pictures soon.

truth...

2010-04-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

"Truth is no theory, no speculative system of philosophy, no intellectual insight. Truth is exact correspondence with reality. For man, truth is unshakable knowldege of his real nature, his Self as soul. Jesus, by every act and word of his life, proved that he knew the truth of his being -his source in God. Wholly identified with the omnipresent Christ Consciousness, he could say with simple finality: 'Everyone that is of the truth heareth my voice.'

Buddha, too, refused to shed light on the metaphysical ultimate, dryly pointing out that man's few moments on earth are best employed in perfecting the moral nature. The Chinese mystic Lao-tzu rightly taught: 'He who knows, tells it not; he who tells, knows it not.' The final mysteries of God are not 'open to discussion.' The decipherment of His secret code is an art that man cannot communicate to man; here the Lord alone is the Teacher. -Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

the key...

2010-04-09T07:01:00.000-07:00

Romantic love has been an on going theme in my life. In my early twenties I came up with a story set in post Civil War Pennsylvania about a single mother, about to marry a Colonel when her first husband, thought dead, walks back into her life. The Colonel is a good solid man who stepped in to take care of the woman and her daughter when he returned from the war. The woman is passionate and prone to scandal because she refuses to live by society’s standards. The night of their engagement party her first husband, a dashing young and mysterious man, returns raising the question, where has he been and what has he been doing? The mystery unravels and she is forced to make a choice between her heart, which could lead her abandoned again and her head where there is safety.

I love this story and perhaps one day I will write it. It feels a bit like a fabulous romance novel, a genre I only recently thought I could write. I love, love and romance so really it is a perfect niche. Also, how strange, that a theme that would run my life was a story I wrote almost twenty years ago.

Throughout my life, I have gone between bad boys and good guys. I’ve always felt more “in love” with the bad boys and date the good guys when I think it is time for me to “settle down” or I need to try something different but it never works. It goes completely against my heart and the “trying” doesn’t work. It is awful. Recently I’ve been wondering if it truly has anything to do with the man I pick or if it is really all about me.

This week, I started working with my life coach, Breck in hopes of getting to the bottom of this affliction. About an hour into the group session a woman spoke up with my same issue and Breck’s response to her was liberating. Hearing a male’s perspective was fascinating and I found a language for my little issue and the answer to my question.

The answer, the man has little to do with my issue. I know this is hard to hear and sounds pretty unbelievable but it’s true. It is all about me. I look at it like this, a devil can walk through my door but if I am fully empowered and in grace, will he have an effect on me? NO! But if I’m needy and lost –he will have his way with me.

I bring a huge agenda into dating. And this is no surprise when we live in an age of “The Rules,” “He’s just not that into you...,” “Think like a man, act like a lady...” I realize all these books have the intention of empowering women but they lead women astray with the idea that when you meet someone if you follow all the “rules” and they guy behaves a certain way then it will work and only then...how many “love stories” have you heard where both people met with perfect timing and everything worked perfectly from the get go? Very few.

The other part of my issue is when I do meet a man that I’m truly attracted to I abandon myself and shut down, not fully expressing myself unless I feel safe.

Breck said he’s never met a man who left a woman where the woman hadn’t left herself first –wise words. This is the key.

At the end of the class, Breck asked what I’m going to work on and I said, “Writing my book. And not having an agenda, not losing myself and being fully expressed in relationship.”

It will be an interesting spring.

high priestess...

2010-04-04T09:05:00.000-07:00

I am the Captain of my ship and I am a great navigator with the stars and my intuition to guide me.

Love can be a powerful force but as long as I keep steady, stay centered, shine my light and keep my hands on the wheel I can weather any storm.

No longer falling and gripping, hoping a captain will come and save me. This is harmony.

hostage...

2010-04-01T08:07:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a crazy dream. I won’t go into the details because lets face it, dream details can be a bit boring. Basically, I was held hostage at gunpoint. Then I escaped, ran into a couple of people I knew (one was an old friend who often betrayed people) so of course I told her what was going on. Then, obviously she told the other woman and they mocked me. I’m not sure if this fear was founded. I was suppose to be taking care of children, mine and a friends...not sure how I got all wrapped up in this game of cat and mouse.

Eventually I found myself safe again and told the “old friend” with the big mouth off in a grand way. It felt real like something I’d been harboring subconsciously for years. Soon after putting this woman in her place, I ran into a psychic. The psychic took one look at me and said, “Oh girl, what information do you need to know? You’ve been put through it. There’s nothin’ I can tell YOU.”

Tears welled up, “I just need help processing it.”

Then I woke up. The dream held a great Universal truth. We, as humans often need help processing our stuff and there is nothing to be ashamed of. We go through so much here. It is why we have friends and for those of us who have a lot to process, therapists, life coaches, psychics, etc. Everyone needs to be heard and surrounded in love.

I wonder how often we hold ourselves hostage?

clarity...

2010-03-29T19:04:00.000-07:00

"Clear your mind of dogmatic theological debris; let in the fresh, healing waters of direct perception. Attune yourself to the active inner Guidance; the Divine Voice has the answer to every dilemma of life. Though man's ingenuity for getting himself into trouble appears to be endless, the Infinite Succor is no less resourceful." -Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

happily ever after...

2010-03-25T16:18:00.000-07:00

A week ago Monday, I went to Breck’s Monday Night Conversation. Breck is my life coach. The theme of the evening was,

“You cannot become who you want to be by denying who you are: your deficiencies, competencies, age, health, history, and resources. There's a difference between being unreasonable and unrealistic, demanding versus deluding, and confronting versus ignoring.

Positive thinking is an attempt to deny our truths by leaving us with fantasies. And since our fantasies must die in order for our dreams to come true, positive thinking is a step in the wrong direction.”

Fascinating -especially since I’ve been analyzing the concept of fantasies vs. dreams for the past couple of months. However his concept was a bit different. His was, given what we have, what is really possible? For example, is it realistic that that I get into a “happily ever after” relationship? Not really. I have no track record of this. Honestly I have no track record of anything that resembles a healthy mature relationship. I’ve either been single or “strangled.”

I don’t always speak during these events but that night I did. I hoped for some insight regarding my last relationship. I wanted to know if I got out because of my “image/ego” or was the reason I got out valid. “Valid” was the response I got but I also got the question, “Are you okay with the possibility of no relationship?” Now, if Breck had asked me this a year ago, I would have pouted and cried. Or even worse I would have poo-pooh’d the very idea as blasphemy. But now, I can honestly say, “Yeah, I’m perfectly okay with the possibility I will not be in a relationship.” This is quite a break through for a desperate girl who thought a man would make her happy. I have found so much freedom. This shift has been amazing…death to the idea that happily ever after can only happen with a prince.

My life is about being fully expressed. Perhaps one day I’ll meet a man who turns me on and I turn him on and we do pretty good together so we both stick around but until then, I’m happy and I’m done thinking I’m going to be any happier when I get me a husband.

i feel like the diamond in this image...

2010-03-21T19:56:00.000-07:00

Anyone else feel this way?

the four elements of a joyous relationship...

2010-03-17T08:56:00.000-07:00

what does love feel like?...

2010-03-15T16:01:00.000-07:00

Strange question isn’t it –but I’ve been thinking about it lately, wondering about its nuances and textures. In the past year I’ve dated two completely different men and had completely different relationships. The first relationship was extremely passionate, so much so that the first time I saw him I was certain he would be my husband and the first date was like a fairy-tale complete with a Ferris wheel ride but it didn’t last –for many good reasons. We were two very different people, we loved each other but there was no foundation and without a foundation there was nothing to stand on and you can’t exist just on butterfly’s wings alone.

The second relationship lacked passion. After the first date, I wasn’t sure I would see him again but he seemed nice and easy to talk to. I’d been advised to go against my type so I saw him again. There were never butterflies but there was friendship, intimacy and a domestic life. I was fully expressed in the relationship and it was liberating. The foundation was strong but without the butterflies, when times got tough (and things got tough) there were no wings to keeps us flying. We loved each other but without wings we couldn’t fly so the relationship ended

It seems to me that in the beginning of the relationship there needs to be passion, urgency, missing, excitement, all those things because in time it goes away but if it isn’t there in the first place what makes you want to stay with that person? In the first relationship I hoped the passion would take root. In the second relationship I wished the intimacy would take flight. I believe for a relationship to last there has to be equal parts of both.

From both of these relationships I learned to take my time. If I feel the burning flame, I must put it on the back burner to see if it blows out. If there is only a little flame I need to give it a little air to see if it burns. There is no need to rush.

This morning I had a dream that I was in bed with a man that had once been my lover but we had not been together for a long time. We were in bed in a crowded room of strangers (dreams are so obscure) and I remember thinking how much I had missed his touch and the weight of his body. I missed his kiss, smell, and skin -his very essence. With him, I felt at peace. The moment held everything, intimacy, passion, love, kindness, desire and playfulness. I was fulfilled.

I am thankful for this dream. I now hold that feeling inside and even though I wasn’t able to recognize the man in my dream. I will be able to recognize the feeling.

a bumpy ride...

2010-03-12T15:46:00.000-08:00

Lately my lessons have been about trusting myself and hearing my inner voice. This isn’t so easy when your friends, family, spiritual advisors and son all have wonderful opinions that perhaps differ from your “gut feeling” and when you yourself really, really want this thing in question. You want to believe and yet the gnawing whisper is relentless.

So you go with it for awhile wondering if perhaps you are crazy. Are you not seeing what everyone else can see? Are you missing something? Is fear blinding you to what is really there? And then one day your inner voice drowns out everyone else’s and you make a decision and your peace returns.

Dating is never easy. I’m a hopeless romantic so I leap before I know all the facts. But I'm done, no more, I’ve learned my lesson, or lessons one on the heels of the other. It’s been a bumpy ride but I'm thankful for every moment of it.

My dream to meet a like minded man, a best friend who loves my child and has the same morals and values as me and gives me butterflies is a worthwhile realistic dream, not a fantasy. I’m happy walking my path with friends and Goom until my dream comes true. I would rather be alone than trying.

I have learned so much. I am able to hear my inner voice and trust it. Because of this I am truly free.

something in the air...

2010-03-11T16:19:00.000-08:00

I am ready to live out my dreams now that my fantasies are dead.

And so it is…

Dearest Renee...

2010-03-09T20:04:00.000-08:00

You will be missed...

be in peace.

seven-year-old logic...

2010-03-08T06:40:00.000-08:00

"I can't stop thinking about nothing."
-Goom

keeping Oscar dry...

2010-03-07T10:12:00.000-08:00

Enjoy your Sunday!

the cliff...

2010-03-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

“I dreamed I fell off a cliff,” Goom said the other morning when I woke him up.

“You did? Well you’re safe now,” I said soothing his hair and giving him a kiss. I’d dream I fell of a cliff too if I’d spent the night at your father’s, I thought as I smiled kissing his hand.

“What happens if you fall off a cliff?” He asked looking down on me from his loft bed.

“You get hurt.”

“Is there blood?”

“There can be.”

“What if there’s water at the bottom?”

“You might get less hurt.”

“Would you die?”

“Possibly.”

“I hung on to a thing that was sticking out.”

“Good that means that you will be able to take care of yourself, even when you feel unsafe,” I said helping him down.

Goom grabbed my neck and flung his legs around me from the top rung of his ladder –a morning ritual even at the age of seven.

“What happens if you fall with someone?”

“You feel less scared.” I said carrying him to the living room feeling his bedtime warmth wrap itself around me.

And then it dawned on me. Sometimes life can feel like a free-fall and having someone next to you for support can make it all feel a little safer. I’ve never experienced this. I’ve either been single, dating or in a relationship that made my life a little less safe. I didn’t feel this with my family. Now, I get glimmers of this with The Captain but just glimmers. Our relationship is still new and we are still getting to know each other. Gone are the days of leaving my heart on the doorstep without knowing the person I’m leaving it with. The blind faith of the Fool has been replaced with the knowledge of the Magician.

“If you fell off a cliff. I’d fall with you,” I said holding him with the morning sun cleansing our spirits.

it's done...

2010-03-03T15:56:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it takes us several years to face our fears. For the past almost eight years I’ve been too afraid to allow the state of California to decide what’s best for Goom. I have avoided going to court to figure out custody. And for all those years, I took on the burden of scheduling and arranging without support. Until I said ENOUGH -out of complete exhaustion.

It’s done.

Did I get everything I wanted? Yes.

Am I at peace? Yes.

Has a huge weight been lifted of my shoulders? Yes.

Do I feel less angry and more compassionate? Yes.

Our visitation schedule is a court order. It is law. We each know what is expected of us. There are rules to follow.

Now I can focus on just being a mom.

It feels like snow melting and spring flowers blooming.

the churning...

2010-02-27T08:52:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago I went to Universal Studios with The Captain, Goom and Mae Mae, a friend of Goom’s. I’m sort of an amusement park junkie. I don’t go every week like some people do but I do go a few times a year, which is more than almost any of my friends. They think I’m a bit nuts but I love spending the day with Goom, watching his face light up as we get on each ride.

Universal Studios is probably Goom’s least favorite place and I’m not sure why we went, except it was close. There is very little for him to do there. In fact there is nothing for him to do there but I had forgotten about that until we got there and had shelled out our fifteen dollars for parking –note to self do not go again. Almost all rides freak him out and I mean FREAK HIM OUT. He hates what we’ve coined, “tunnel rides,” which is any ride that goes into a dark place and has loud noises –almost all rides. Take a moment and imagine him at Disneyland, Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, Mr. Toad’s Wild Adventure, Winnie the Pooh –all tunnels. Put it this way, we take lots of rides on Casey’s train but God, love him –he’s my kid and I can’t really blame him, most of the rides at Disneyland appear as bad psychedelic trips. (Click here for a mini-movie)

Okay, back to Universal Studios. The tour is probably the best thing about the place and even that freaks him out because of the The Tunnel (used in Six Million Dollar Man see above), King Kong and the Earthquake but fortunately he agreed to go on it so off we went with sitting on my lap, shivering in anticipation of what was to come.

Now you’re probably thinking this story is about rides, overcoming fear or how cute my son is but it’s not. It is about that damn tunnel that spins around you and makes you feel you are going upside even though you aren’t moving at all except forward. If you close your eyes, you feel nothing.

On that day, in that tunnel, was the metaphor for my life as it was and is at this moment.

I’m being churned. My life outside myself, the world around seems to be spinning, spinning, spinning. My writing class is kicking my ass in a good way but since I’m writing a memoir it is also kicking my ass in a very personal way. It is about me and my voice and how I come across. I have a court date with Goom’s daddy on Tuesday. Can’t say much more about it but I wake up in the morning with acid churning in my stomach. My relationship with The Captain, deeply complicated forcing me to look within to find answers and live from my truth. Being a fulltime single mom, tough but completely rewarding. All of this keeps life “busy” but it also keeps my emotions spinning around.

My solace? Closing my eyes, meditating, taking deep breaths and remembering it is in Spirit’s hands. Allowing things to spin and knowing I don’t have to spin along with them.

I now practice a walking meditation. I am that much closer to knowing God. I’m living from my authentic self, my essence. I am God. I am sovereign. I am free.

But it ain’t easy!

happily ever after...

2010-02-24T07:06:00.000-08:00

The theme of my life for the past several months has been about fantasy vs. reality or better put, fantasy vs. dreams. Breck Costin, my life coach, puts it beautifully “Our fantasies must die for our dreams to come true.” But the media doesn’t feed this to us. The media feeds fantasy after fantasy.

As most of you know my childhood was less than wonderful, yes I had clothing, food, shelter but I didn’t get the love I needed. I probably needed a lot but don’t most kids? I wanted to be seen and I wasn’t it. My family was too busy feeding their own hatred towards each other so I resigned to fantasy to keep me happy. I grew up thinking my fantasies were dreams and would one day come true. And of course like most little girls, my fantasy of choice was that an incredibly beautiful man would come and save me. And that it would happen just like that, poof.

Last Fall I wrote about my excitement for Sarah’s story line on “Brothers and Sisters.” It went something like this –she went to the South of France where she met a beautiful painter in a barn and they fell in love. This was my fantasy to a “T.” (I believe Spirit did this on purpose.) The season unfolded with Luke moving in and Sarah wanting to control him by making him a success as a painter so he could be a provider. Then he leaves because he doesn’t want to be controlled. (This is a trigger for Sarah because her last husband was an artist that she supported.) Sarah meets a new guy, he’s real with a job and nice, no fantasy, they actually survive a difference of opinion but she always says it’s, “nice.”

So last week on the show she sees a painting that she loves –you’ve probably already guessed it was Luke’s. It was. The nice boyfriend buys it for her ($500) for Valentine’s Day even though he doesn’t like it. When he gives it to her he asks her to explain why she likes it because all he sees is childlike scribbling. The nice guy say’s “We don’t have a lot in common” and they break-up –nicely.

Sarah returns to the gallery and asks that the painting be put on her credit card and removed from his. Of course, Luke comes out say a cute little line and then they kiss and we are propelled back in fantasy and it is delightful and my heart sings because I’m thinking maybe her fantasy is going to come true or perhaps her fantasy died and this will be real now...whatever it is. It is like heroin.

Obviously, I’m still working on getting off my drug of choice, fantasy. It’s not as easy as I thought it was going to be, it’s like extracting an old tree from the earth with the intention of leaving all the roots in tact.

It is hard to let go of happily ever after.

the fog...

2010-02-18T07:49:00.000-08:00

So Goom and I have been sick for days –home from school and work. We’ve been in the trenches moving from room to room like phantoms. Thank God for the Olympics.

This morning I was emailing my boss letting him know I wasn’t going to make it -once again. Goom wanted to press send after I finished but I forgot -pressing send is so automatic.

“Sorry,” I said. “My head is so foggy.”

“Why? Do you have no sunshine in there?” Goom said with a smirk.

Be well,

i'm here...

2010-02-10T06:29:00.000-08:00

"Clear your mind of dogmatic theological debris, let in the fresh, healing waters of direct perception. Attune yourself to the active inner Guidance; the Divine Voice has the answer to every dilemma of life. Though man's ingenuity for getting himself into trouble appears to be endless, the Infinite Succor is no less resourceful." -Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

My bliss has not kept me away, my writing and being a full time single mother working a busy forty hour a week job has. Every spare moment, I'm writing for class, honing my skills, learning and hopefully improving. Unfortunately, there are not enough hours in the day to do everything I love.

Blessings,

bliss...

2010-02-03T22:48:00.000-08:00

love

everything

about

life

right

now

because

everything

feels

sign

from

God.

POP!

2010-02-01T15:50:00.000-08:00

Then the fantasy pops! Just like that “POP!” You are left with nothing –shattered.

Not only does the fantasy pop but you are told that you must start seeing beyond your type, aka fantasy. It is suggested you walk away from what you are attracted to. This is the work. This is the process. This is the rewiring. This is why you have a life coach or spiritual teacher. Because you want to learn the lesson and you want happiness and you want to loosen the grip of karma. So you listen to what they tell you.

You listen because deep below the cry of the want and the ego you are able to hear the truth. You go against everything that feels natural to you to shift the paradigm. Life appears twenty-six shades of grey. Fantasy can be quite psychedelic. Fantasy is the drug of choice. Once it is gone. What is left?

-A void.

And Spirit fills the void. At first you can’t see it. It doesn’t fit. You fight against it, not wanting to accept that this is it. You are in detox. You can’t even let yourself imagine the high of the fantasy, although you crave it and miss it, taste it and feel it. The fantasy is bigger, brighter and explodes with brilliance. In reality, it is quiet, subtle and veiled in ego’s perception. At first you don’t trust it. Breathe.

The more you trust, the more you surrender. Then the deeper textures of reality unfold and surface. Before you know it, reality appears much richer than the fantasy ever seemed because there is substance. Reality becomes better than fantasy. Soon the fantasy is forgotten. You are detoxed.

.

surrender...

2010-01-27T15:38:00.000-08:00

Several years ago before I had Goom, I dreamt I was given a child about age six to take under my wing and pour love into -only to realize later in the dream that the child was me. I was given the opportunity to see how I was neglected emotionally as a child. I realized at that moment what it is to love and protect a child.

About a year and a half after Goom was born, I went into therapy to get help with adjusting to life as a single mother. I had just gone through a break-up with a great too- young-to-be-a-daddy-guy, my best-friend had moved away and Baby’s-daddy had fallen in love with a woman only interested in impressing him which meant acting like a mother to my young child. It was too much to handle on my own.

During one session we were talking about my history with men and lack of value for my-self. It didn’t come out this tidy. It was more like this -you’re playing Russian roulette with your heart, sleeping with men in hopes of getting love, trusting that they would take care of your heart in the process. I was one messed up girl, so desperate for love that I basically became a whore for it.

I didn’t realize what I was doing until my therapist said, “Would you let this man take care of your baby? Would you just leave your baby on the front steps and hope this guy takes care of it?”

I guffawed and rolled my eyes. “No!”

“But you’ll do it with your heart, which is just as precious as your child.”

This stopped me in my tracks. It seems so obvious now but at the time…I wasn’t taking care of myself. I never knew how to. I was never taught. In my family, I was the scrap metal beaten by the wrecking balls of my family’s anger. By the time I left, love looked like being emotional abused.

Many, many more years later, in fact just this past spring, after much spiritual work and life coaching, I met a man who I thought might be the one. I’d had a feeling for several months that I was going to meet someone in May and I did. We got along like a house on fire and we both had some intense emotions. However, my heart once again leapt before I was able to check the foundation of this man’s house. I saw the red flags but wasn’t able to break it off, not for several weeks. I didn’t understand why I would have such a strong intuitive feeling about this man and the timing of our meeting. I didn’t understand the lesson I had to learn. I had shifted into an old paradigm.

The only way to shift out of a paradigm is to shift your self within it. This is no easy task because even though the paradigm most likely doesn’t feel good, it is familiar and with familiarity comes comfort. This is why people say change is the hardest thing to do. Our paradigms are formed when we are children so they are at our core. It is that old adage -say no to the old so the new can come in. I was forced to make a different choice. I was forced to say, no –you aren’t allowed to treat me like this. I am worth more even though my heart and soul wanted him. If he loved me than I’d be worthy –that is the paradigm.

I didn’t think I would need this lesson again. I’d had a different dating experience. I knew what it was like to be loved. After all the reading, therapy, work I’d done I thought it was in the past but here it was again. This is the thing -until we experience the shift emotionally we don’t get the lesson and it will be repeated. This is about the heart and the soul not the brain. Being book, lesson, therapy smart doesn’t make the shift –we have to be in life, interacting, and experiencing it with other people from our hearts.

I’m always in awe of Spirit handing me the perfect lesson for my growth. I have complete trust and faith and with it comes unwavering peace. I might not always get what I think “I” want but Spirit knows what would truly make me happy if I only allow myself to surrender.

the force...

2010-01-26T15:52:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday, the Captain, Goom and I were heading out of town to go to a rock and mineral show when a strange little incident happened. We had stopped at a gas station, the Captain and I were chatting when he suddenly dodged away towards the back of his truck.

I was in a bit of a mood and ready to assume the worse about the Captain when I looked out my window and saw that a large young man had fallen down and the Captain was helping him up. (Spirit is always testing me, especially when it comes to the Captain. Let’s just say I have some deeply rooted trust issues.)

I watched as the Captain struggled to help this guy who seemed drugged and perhaps autistic to his feet. This poor guy’s pants had fallen down and thankfully my silent prayer of pull your pants up was answered, unfortunately by the Captain. I opened my door in case I could help.

“Wow, you took quite a fall. It looked like it really hurt,” the Captain said.

The Captain knows a bit about falling. He seems to fall a lot and at 6’4” that is a big deal. This guy was almost as tall but with much more girth. The guy fumbled with a bag of his belongings and limped on his left knee.

“Are you sure you’re ok,” asked the Captain.

“Yeah, I got hit by a car when I was younger,” said the guy as he stumbled away towards the side of the building.

The Captain unable to do much more went into the station. Goom and I were left to watch this guy from our windows. He stood with his mouth agape, eyes drowsy, brown cigarette with a white tip filter in one hand and his bag in the other. He’d lean over towards the ground and then he’d come back up -all in slow motion. Of course Goom became quite fascinated

“What is that guy doing” asked Goom.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

“Is something wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure, honey. He might be a little slow mentally and he might be on drugs.”

“What are drugs?”

“Drugs are something people take to make themselves feel better.”

Then it was silent. I could feel Goom staring at him.

“I’m going to surround him in God,” said Goom.

“That is the perfect thing to do. I will help you,” I said.

“No, I want to do it by myself. I can do it. I’m using the force.”

This past year, I started calling the healing energy of the universe as the “force” so Goom could relate to it. I often use the “force” on him and in turn he’s learned to use it.

“I’m surrounding him in love,” he said.

“I can feel you. You are very powerful.”

As Goom held this guy in love, another man approached the guy and gave him money. I was overcome with love. There are angels all around when we open the possibilities through love for all human kind.

The Captain returned and Goom and I were once again distracted. When we were pulling away, I glanced back and found the guy on the ground leaning against the wall.

We all had a wonderful day together. On the drive back from the show, the Captain and I would find ourselves thinking about this guy.

“You know you pulled his pants up, right?” I asked the Captain.

“I did not”

“Yes, you did.”

We laughed. I found it endearing that he didn’t remember doing it, that it was instinctual. What a good man and what an amazing boy!

toot-sweets...

2010-01-22T16:13:00.000-08:00

Many, many years ago, I taught pre-school. It was during my college years. I stumbled upon it while looking on the job boards at school, needing something that would allow me to go to school in the morning and the theater at night. I was a drama major and was always working on a show. The hours were from lunch to 6pm. Perfect.

When I took the job, little did I know I was about to get the education of a life time. Not only did I learn psychology, nature vs. nurture, etc. it was on the job training for the most important job of my life, being a mother. I didn’t realize it at the time but now I see what a gift it was. It completely prepared me for motherhood and gave me a leg up. Thank God since when I became a mother, I would be flying solo. (Although, somehow I already knew this.)

At the time I kept a journal but was too busy acting like Anais Nin and writing about my many lovers to jot down funny stories about the shenanigans of the preschoolers. It didn’t seem important or big enough. There wasn’t enough drama compared to the rest of my life. When really, it could have been my best seller. Now that I’m older and wiser I see people would much rather read about children doing funny things than my twenty-something sexcapades.

Anyhoo, there is one story that I will never forget and here it is.

Toot-Sweets

As always, we had the kids wash their hands after coming in from outside. The preschool was a cozy old house in North Seattle. The kids lined up outside the bathroom and we kept an eye on them over the Dutch door while making cups of tea and chatting. They knew the routine, wash your hands and then sit down on the rug and look at books.

It wasn’t long before the kids got a little louder. We peaked over and heard, “Taylor has a flute.” Another chimed in “I want a flute.”

“It’s not fair that Taylor and Sam both have flutes,” several whined.

Keela, a fellow teacher and I looked at each quizzically and stepped through the door to see what was going on.

There were Taylor and Sam playing their “flutes” – cardboard tampon applicators.

Our jaws dropped. We hid our laughter and asked them to throw their “flutes” back in the trash. Then we gave a little lesson about picking stuff out of the garbage.

That incident remained our little secret. (wink, wink)

revelation...

2010-01-21T15:08:00.000-08:00

Shhhhhhhhsh…She is listening to he inner voice, the authentic one. The one that is hard to hear over the noise of the Shoulds. It is deep within and she has only recently heard it.

It is counter to her thoughts but puts her at ease while her mind teems.

Before this, she only heard yours, yours, and yours.

Now she hears hers…and she listens.

Will you still love her? Or would you rather love someone other than her now that she knows who she is?

Her truth does not subscribe to fantasy or the ideal imaginaries.

Does yours? If you spoke your truth what would it be? Does it scare you? Can you hear it or is it shrouded in the Shoulds?

She says yes to please you, you, and you to keep you from suffering. She will bear your pain, keep you safe from it. She'll keep silent.

She fears if she speaks her truth she will be alone but if she doesn't she is a tyrant and then alone or a fabrication of herself.

She will always pick true freedom over anything but true love.

What do you choose?

Theme Thursday "bread"...

2010-01-20T09:06:00.001-08:00

give us this day OUR daily bread...

creative memoir writing...

2010-01-19T15:33:00.001-08:00

Last week my class started. So far I'm loving it. I thought I'd share with you my first assignment. We had to list five devastating, tragic, or embarrasing things that happened to us in our past and write paragraphs about two of them. Below is what I wrote.

"before the last good-bye..."

That was it. After he threw his cigarette butt out the truck window, I decided I was never going to see him again. I promised myself, I would tell him once we got back to his place. Why had I hooked up with him in the first place? We’d been broken up for nine months and in those nine months I had found peace. I’d become a yoga teacher, had a meditation practice - I was flying high on self-love but thought perhaps too high so I decided to ground myself – by sleeping with him. It doesn’t get more mundane than having sex with an ex you are not in love with.

When we got back to his apartment before I said my last good-bye, I checked my messages in case there was news. I had one message. As I listened and watched him light up another cigarette disappearing into the toxic cloud, I realized it was the message I’d been dreading and secretly hoping for. “Good thing you’re a yoga teacher because I doubt you went out for drinks after leaving my office. Your test turned positive. You are pregnant,” my doctor said.

I hung up the phone and cried tears of joy and sorrow.

"broken valentine..."

The tulips, the card, the uneaten chocolates, the necklace with the little heart that he had given me lay strewn across my dining room table like relics of possibility. Gifts that were meant to bring happiness to two people in love on Valentine’s Day now brought mourning. It was the morning after and before this moment, before seeing my dining room table littered with tokens of love I thought it might not be true. I laughed at the absurdity. Everything was here as he had left it except one thing. I rubbed my ring finger with my thumb as I often did. My ring - the ring that symbolized our promise to each other was gone. The one thing he didn’t leave behind. How had it happened? How did we get here?

on my way to work...

2010-01-18T17:08:00.001-08:00

traffic slowed and this was why...

A film shoot that took up three city blocks.

consciousness, counting the dead, and global responsibility...

2010-01-15T10:55:00.000-08:00

I’m in a mood today. But I’m going to put it on the back burner to hopefully write this from a place of clarity.

It is no longer enough to be conscious on an individual level only. We must rise to the occasion and become globally conscious. We have been spoiled by living in a time of self-involved luxury. Those times are over. As in the quote I posted yesterday by Marianne Williamson, “Spiritual progress is like detoxification. Things have to come up in order to be released. Once we have asked to be healed, then our unhealed places are forced to the surface.”

Along with Lisa Renee’s words I quoted on Tuesday, “In order to create inner harmony we can no longer ignore the places we have neglected or abused within ourselves. Every last vulnerability, limitation belief, sore spot, emotionally hurt areas, physical issues are blaring to the surface, demanding our attention..”

Now let’s talk about Haiti keeping the above quotes in mind. Here is a country that has been suffering for many years under corrupt dictatorships that steal from their people. Did you see the Haitian President speak after the earthquake? Did you see the thugs surrounding him? His palace compared to how his people lived? Obviously, something was very wrong. Due to a lack of infrastructure, the people of Haiti were forced to use almost of all of their natural resources to keep warm and cook food. Leaving them with nothing if tragedy were to strike and it did.

Now when we ask to be healed (and we lightworkers have on a global level), “then our unhealed places are forced to surface,” and “things have to come up in order to be released.” The consciousness of the planet is rising and as it rises our attention is going to be drawn to places that need the most healing. It is law. Haiti needed to be healed. The only way it was going to get the attention it needed was for what was unhealed to be forced to the surface - an earthquake as the catalyst.

Yes, there is mass destruction and suffering but it will bring much healing, globally and individually. Without loss, there is no growth. And believe it or not, those souls which passed on from the quake signed up for the job previous to their births. Thank them and release them. Slowly we will begin to think about our world and our planet differently because we are all one. This notion of being an America, European, Indian, Japanese, will one day be silly. The debt of each of these countries will look ridiculous. It won’t matter, does it now with debt in the zillions? Does it really mean anything anymore? This brings me to my next point – counting the dead.

Today I heard six American were among the dead in Haiti. Does it really matter what country the dead are from? This is a human tragedy, let's not make it a national one.

My heart pours out for those suffering through their losses. The pictures bring deep grief to my heart. I want to hold each of their hands, hug them and cry with them.

But what can I really do beyond donating money? I can close my eyes, expand my heart and send love.

We are all capable of healing because we are all capable of love.

theme thursday "surface"...

2010-01-14T10:19:00.000-08:00

“Spiritual progress is like detoxification. Things have to come up in order to be released. Once we have asked to be healed, then our unhealed places are forced to the surface.” - Marianne Williamson

To join Theme Thursday fun click here.

peace...

2010-01-13T20:39:00.000-08:00

A prayer for those in Haiti...

"Though the words of the works of the human race disappear tracelessly by time or bomb, the sun does not falter in its course; the stars keep their invariable vigil. Cosmic law cannot be stayed or changed, and man would do well to put himself in harmony with it. If the cosmos is against might, if the sun wars not in the heavens but retires at dueful time to give the stars their little sway, what avails our mailed fists? Shall any peace come out of it? Not cruelty but goodwill upholds the universal sinews; a humanity at peace will know the endless fruits of victory, sweeter to the taste than any nurtured on the soil of blood.

The effective League of Nations will be a natural, nameless league of human hearts. The broad sympathies and discerning insight needed for the healing of earthly woes cannot flow from a mere intellectual consideration of human diversities, but from knowledge of men's deepest unity - kinship with God. Towards realization of the world's highest ideal - peace through brotherhood-may yoga, the science of personal communion with the Divine, spread in time to all men in all lands."- Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

Click here to donate to those in need in Haiti.

let it go...

2010-01-12T21:32:00.000-08:00

Each month I look forward to receiving my Energetic Synthesis Newsletter written by Lisa Renee. (One of the most amazing women I've ever met.) The Newsletter serves as an excellent energetic road map of what is to come and what has been. In other words it is an energy touchstone.

The newsletter is often so complex it feels like it is written in a different language. But within the complexity, simple truths are found like the below - an excerpt from this months newsletter I found relevant.

"Strategic problem solving has flown out of the window and only the "now moment" presence remains. (Anyone still working with a mental pre-planning strategy in micro-managing their life will continually run into obstacle after obstacle, like two steps backward and no steps forward.) We have been given a new control panel for our life and we are now learning how to use it by giving up control!

In order to create inner harmony we can no longer ignore the places we have neglected or abused within ourselves. Every last vulnerability, limitation belief, sore spot, emotionally hurt areas, physical issues are blaring to the surface, demanding our attention. Many times we have been physically leveled to make sure we sit "inside" it and do not run away from it by creating distraction. There is no running away from what we have to face inside ourselves at this time. It has been incredibly uncomfortable for many. We are truly walking the path of forced "self mastery" these days.

This self mastery requires another applied level of a multidimensional lifestyle approach. (How do I serve my physical, emotional, mental and spiritual selves in an integrated and balanced way?) Many of these intense recent changes are occurring within our foundational life structures which have included: radical dietary changes, changes in biorythym and biochemistry, sleeping and napping patterns, physical or emotional distress, changed working and social interaction patterns, radical turnstile of abrupt changes moving within relationships, residence and jobs. It's very surreal every day, everything happening in the exact now moment (at the 11.9999 hour) with only the flow of synchronicities to direct the way we move throughout our life."

I don't know about you but I have been tested over and over regarding control. I've been shown that it is best to put intention in motion and then let it be.

"Let it go" has become my new mantra.

If you are interested in reading the entire newsletter, learning more about Lisa Renee, or Energetic Synthesis click here.

relax and enjoy the miracles...

2010-01-11T10:52:00.001-08:00

We know so little about what is possible. It is time to sit back and relax into the great unknown. Allow what comes to wash over us knowing it is all for our greater good.

Be cradled in a love beyond comprehension.

a little reading...

2010-01-08T17:49:00.001-08:00

Miracles do happen - I read an entire book on our trip. It’s been years since I’ve been able to pick a book up and read it from cover to cover. So while The Captain drove through a blizzard and Goom watched a movie, I hunkered down with a flashlight and read Kimberlee Auerbach’s the devil, the lovers, and me, My Life in Tarot.

She writes chic-lit memoir –my genre. Her story takes place during a tarot reading. As each card is revealed she takes us back to past lovers and stories about her family, which is right up my alley. So much so that her prologue reads like my essay on visiting Mia, my psychic, for the first time. I kept thinking, why didn’t I think of this set up? But then again, it is a memoir and I didn’t have this experience. At first her descriptions felt a bit pushed but soon she found her voice and I couldn’t stop reading. Thank God because I’m taking a class from her through UCLA that starts next week.

I’m not sure how I’m going to manage it all, full-time job, full-time single mom (have I mentioned BD has decided to stay in New Orleans?), dating The Captain, blog writing, blog reading, errands, chores, class etc but somehow I’ll make it happen. Finishing my book is a priority this year. It is something I’ve been wanting to do but again I can only do so much and if I’m not enjoying any of it I’m doing too much.

So bare with me in the coming months as I juggle a million things. Know that you are always in my thoughts and close to my heart. I will write and read at every opportunity.

theme thursday "polka dots"...

2010-01-07T12:37:00.001-08:00

"God made man stronger but not necessarily more intelligent. He gave women intuition and femininity. And, used properly, that combination easily jumbles the brain of any man I've ever met." - Farrah Fawcett

To join the fun go to: Theme Thursday

HAPPY NEW YEAR - Part 2

2010-01-06T17:04:00.000-08:00

Today I started a process I'd been dreading. Now that its rolling, in progress, happening I feel much better. Funny how we put things off only making them bigger and scarier than they really are...(for now I can't be specific but I will tell all someday)

Now on to our trip...

With Goom feeling much better he was ready to touch the snow...

Our first full day in Montana we bought a sled...

Our second day we visited our dear friend on his ranch...

New Year's Eve, we bowled...

With Goom back to 100% we were blessed with a little attitude...

New Year's Day, on our way out of town we stopped by the ranch so the Captain could meet the Rancher. The horses stopped by to say hi...

Unfortunately Jack didn't realize the horses weren't dogs and got stepped on so he needed to rest...

Then away we went with Green dragon leading the way...

Off into the sunset...

The End-Beginning...

May your 2010 be full of light, love and joy!

HAPPY NEW YEAR...

2010-01-04T20:16:00.000-08:00

I'm still catching up with life and work but wanted to share a bit of our trip with you through pictures.

Christmas day, second day of the trip, Goom and Jack have kind of recovered from the throw-up incident that happened the night before...

An amazing view in Oregon. We drove into a cloud to find this treasure...

The cool dudes ready for a day with Uncle Steve in downtown Seattle...

Enjoying Pike Place market...

New best friends, one little guy still recovering...

On the road again, heading to Montana, still not feeling well so a nap was in order...

I made sure he didn't miss a train...

My Captain...

To be continued...

teaser...

2009-12-30T09:46:00.000-08:00

Throw-up, diarrhea, and PMS, the running themes of our trip. If there were ever a couple tested, it is the Captain and I. If we can make it through this, we can make it through anything.

Thank God for laughter.

Stay tuned...

with love...

2009-12-22T10:38:00.000-08:00

Things are busy at the Respite preparing for our trip to Seattle and beyond. The Captain is joining us and we've decided to take a road trip to Montana, then Colorado, then home. I hope to be in touch during our travels.

You are all in my thoughts. May the holidays bring you much peace and joy.

much love,

flashback friday (1998)...

2009-12-18T14:37:00.000-08:00

Today I randomly picked three journals and was guided by Spirit to share the following entry. I wrote it on November 6, 1998. I was 28. It was a poignant moment in my life, one that took several years to heal...

So sad. I’m tired of feeling this much sadness. Every year, for the past three years I’ve felt this amount of sadness, which tells me I am not protecting myself.

I need to be more careful. It’s time to concentrate on the things I want to achieve.

I ask myself why Connor came into my life. The question is answered. He is in my film. He is a good friend.

I was so angry when I came home last night. Our good-bye was pathetic. I could have been anyone.

“Richard has my number. Be well,” he said.

I said nothing. I was too out of it. I know he loves me.

Move forward. Be brave. Be single. Stop the cycle. Become whole. Use your story telling. Be alone. Be lonely. Be happy. Be sad. Be angry. Be calm. Be one.

There is so much to learn. There is so much to do. I have fears.

I am going to cleanse myself.

I must stop taking everything so selfishly. I must be all of these things. It is okay. Life is long. There are many possibilities for us. Not everything is about me.

I can't wait to be whole. I will know when the piece falls in place. It will just go plop!

I don’t want to talk about Connor. I knew it was over last night. I could tell. I knew at the party. I wanted to leave with the memory of yesterday morning, not the party. It was probably good that we didn’t. There was too much to hang on to.

I don’t need to hang on to those hugs -to those kisses.

Out of sight, out of mind?

We shall see.

theme thursday "history"...

2009-12-17T07:15:00.000-08:00

We learn from history that we learn nothing from history.
-George Bernard Shaw

THEME THURSDAY

good job miriam...

2009-12-16T12:16:00.001-08:00

First, I must apologize for those who subscribe to my blog and receive it through email. I write my post the day before it is delivered. Most of the time this doesn’t matter but today/yesterday it did because Tabatha’s Salon Takeover aired Tuesday night. However if you are still interested in seeing Refuge being taken over by Tabatha, I’m sure Bravo will show it again and again and again like they always do.

I never watch this show so I’m not sure how Tabatha usually treats the salon employees or how they react to her. She seemed pretty fair and mellow last night. Miriam was being a bit of a brat, which was fun to watch and was probably on purpose. She is one of a kind and has led quite the life.

What they left out of the show was that Miriam had just started a beauty school up the street from the salon and that zapped her money. Granted she might not be the best at money management there was a reason she was panicking financially. We had actually discussed it while she was doing my hair not long before they shot the episode. The school is also the reason she wasn’t around the salon much of the time.

It was interesting to watch people I know on “reality” TV because I could definitely tell when they were playing up moments for the camera. A few times I knew the reaction was for camera only and not honest. Obviously Tabatha truly cared about this salon and Miriam and this is why she got so frustrated with Miriam.

Miriam’s a gem and came across as a woman with a good head on her shoulders (after acting like a brat a few times). She would do anything for her clients, employees and salon. One time she did my hair suffering from a rare virus she’d caught after flying a helicopter down to Mexico where she stayed in some hidden away chateau –no joke. The girl is a modern day female Indiana Jones! She even owns a hot air balloon. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tabatha wasn’t a little jealous of her.

OK, onto other things, this morning I woke up to this picture in my phone…

Isn’t love grand? The Captain is out of town working but he still finds ways to tell me he loves me. I’m blessed!

the takeover...

2009-12-15T13:26:00.000-08:00

Tonight on Bravo, Tabatha takes over Refuge, the salon where I get my hair done. Yikes, even though it's in the past and the drama and trauma is over, I fear for my girls.

Shame I just got my hair done so I won't be able to hear the girls initial reaction. Karen, who now does my hair, said she didn't think she was going to be on it much based on the preview. Fingers crossed. Miriam, the owner of the salon and who use to do my hair was completely unaffected by the show, we'll see.

I just watched a couple previews...oh it is going to be good...stay tuned!

perfect faith...

2009-12-14T12:47:00.001-08:00

I think of a still pool of water. It calms me when my prophecies manifest. It sounds crazy, “knowing” something is going to happen and then when it does reacting to it as if you didn’t know. But this is how it is for us, those who can hear the information, no matter what information we receive, we are still human and we must process it through our emotions.

I wonder, will this change? Will it become easier? Will my fears subside?

But this is it. I’m in the thick of it. This is the last karmic battle (at least for awhile). I know this.

I see my life unfolding, it is profound and beautiful and yet I allow a person, insignificant, to throw me and toss me like a ship caught in a storm.

I allowed it but no more. I am done. It is over. I am empowered.

Perhaps, the Captain has come at just the right time, to help me navigate the storm. It helps to have two.

I’m thankful and blessed. It is a practice of perfect faith.

flashback friday 2007...

2009-12-11T14:37:00.000-08:00

I wrote the following on November 26th, 2007. It was an interesting little piece but the original meaning was no longer relevant so I decided to re-write it...enjoy.
Once upon a time there was a baby girl born into a miserable family. She was a gift but unfortunately her family could not see her light and love and didn’t know how to love her. Her mother preferred her sister. Her father preferred every other child and her sister disliked her altogether. She grew up believing this was love. She kept pouring love into them hoping it would be returned but it wasn’t. She was never chosen.

Soon the baby grew to be a child and went to school where she found people treated her the same way. Her friends didn’t quite know how to love her and would choose other friends over her or play evil games like “Whoever talks to her first is a bitch.” This made her very sad but she kept her chin up, knowing someday she would find true love just like Cinderella.

Cinderella and the little girl had a lot in common. They both grew up in horrible homes without good mothers. They both had mean sisters and the little girl knew, that just like Cinderella, one day her prince would come and save her.

The little girl grew up to be a young woman and every time a man came into her life she latched onto him assuming it was her prince, desperate to be saved but in the end they would leave choosing other people, just like her parents always did. Each time she thought about killing herself to punish everyone for not loving her.

Years went by and the pattern repeated itself until one day she got pregnant. She tried to make her baby’s daddy into a prince but he remained a frog. The baby was the perfect vessel to pour her love in and she did. She hoped the baby would fill her emptiness but he could not because it was not his job, and everyone knows no one can fill someone else’s emptiness. The woman started to lose hope. Her light dimmed.

Then one day, a fairy Godmother appeared. The woman wanted to know when her prince would come and when she heard not for several years she started to cry. The Fairy Godmother had other plans and poured love into the woman and taught her about self-love.

The woman took a spiritual journey inward discovering she was the co-creator of her life. She realized she chose her family. She chose her painful relationships. Everything in her life she chose so she decided to create something different. She made different choices and soon the woman found faith and lightness never experienced before. And yet her lessons were far from over. For you see, the mind can know something but until the soul experiences it the lesson is not complete. Our heroin still felt the need to be saved.

She met him from across a crowded a room. It was love at first sight. She finally found her prince and she was going to marry him. She wanted to prove to her family and her baby’s daddy that she was lovable. She planned a wedding and bought a fairytale wedding dress but the fantasy didn’t last long. She soon discovered frightening skeletons in his closest so she broke up with him. She realized their love was not true love but love manifested from need.

So she went on and continued writing, working, building friendships, studying with her Fairy Godmother, chopping wood, carrying water, keeping her nose down focused on the tasks at hand, forgetting about her fantasies and fairytale endings until one day she looked up and discovered she had a created a wonderful life of love and friendship and she no longer needed to be saved.

And that is when her prince walked in…and on their second date, he even rode a white horse.

snow day 2004...

2009-12-10T10:27:00.000-08:00

This is one of my favorite photos of Goom. He's so small and the world looks so big.

much love,

THEME THURSDAY!!!!!!!!

the new woman...

2009-12-09T15:55:00.000-08:00

"The new woman is completely self-responsible and therefore free. She stands on her own two feet, not only materially, but also intellectually, mentally, and emotionally. By that I mean specifically that she knows that no man can give her happiness and flowing feelings unless she herself produces them through loving and through integrity, through opening her heart to loving and her mind to her own inner truth. The new woman knows that loving a man and surrendering to her feelings for the man enhances her strength. (There is no conflict for the new woman between being a productive, creative, contributing member of society and being a loving mate.)" from Creating Union The Essence of Intimate Relationship by Eva Pierrakos & Judith Saly

where do i know you from...

2009-12-08T12:31:00.000-08:00

So you are walking down the street, or grocery shopping, or passing someone in a car, or getting on an elevator and you recognize the person you pass but aren’t quite sure where from, so you run down the list of possibilities; high-school, college, theater, job, previous job, Seattle, yoga class…etc. until you realize, Oh you’re on TV!

This happens all the time in LA and can be rather annoying because while you are running through the list of “where from” you are also wondering if you are being rude by not knowing who they are. Then once you realize they’re on TV, you feel like a bit of an ass for thinking you knew them.

Once you’ve been here long enough you see people on TV and you ask yourself, do I know you? Or are you just someone on TV? This is less annoying but annoying all the same. And then of course there is the issue of people thinking you are "someone". Their eyes light up but then quickly dim when they realize you are just a "nobody."

Recently, I “almost” recognized someone. I was walking down my street to my car and I see this girl (in picture) walking her dog. I immediately wonder how I know her and run down the usual list until I realize she’s on Grey’s Anatomy. Luckily it was fairly quick and easy.

Sometimes this can stump you for days. A couple weeks ago at Goom’s soccer game I saw a guy I swear I knew but couldn’t place him. After thinking about it for two weeks, I still have no idea so I’ve given up and I’m assuming he’s on TV and I just can’t place him.

This is a silly little problem but I do find being in other places where “stars” don’t go, to be a bit more relaxing.

disturbing and yet kind of humorous(?)...

2009-12-07T11:55:00.001-08:00

Rarely do I share something that I find slightly disturbing but this is so odd and kind of humorous I feel compelled to share.

The other night while Goom was floating on his back in the bath he put his hands in prayer position. He looked angelic and peaceful. I ran to get the camera and quickly snapped a few shots, focused solely on him.

It was only when I took a second look at the picture that I realized it was telling a different story than the one I had intended.

Ooops, next time I'll pay closer attention to the toys floating around in the bath.

house of joy...

2009-12-06T13:44:00.001-08:00

Friday night, the Captain, Goom and I went to The House of Blues on Sunset to see my boss’s band called Petty Theft, a Tom Petty cover-band. However, we had to go under the guise that it was just “dinner” because Goom had expressed a fear of live music.

Now, you might be wondering who the Captain is? Well, the Captain is my boyfriend. Yes, I have boyfriend. Saying it makes me giggle a bit. I’m still getting use to the idea but it has been unfolding in the most profound and surprising way. I feel very lucky and blessed but I will tell you more about that later. As for Goom’s fear of live music, I have no idea where it stems from but I can guess.

Back at the House of Blues Goom, the Captain and I sat down for dinner and immediately started the process of calming Goom’s live music nerves. There was a curtain dividing the space between where we were eating and where the band was going to play, which helped us ease into the situation. Soon I saw my boss and asked if he’d come over to say “Hi” in hopes it might help Goom conquer his fears.

As the band started to warm up Goom would peek through the curtain to see what was going on. Progress was being made. By the time dinner was done I was pretty sure we were going to have success. We crossed over to the other side with a few friendly nudges and a lot of loving support. Unbeknownst to me several friends from work (with their kids) were already anticipating the bands start. This helped Goom even more. Seeing other kids was proof it might not be too scary.

Before the band started, Goom ran out of the room a couple more times but with a little gentle and loving coaxing from the Captain, by the time the band took stage Goom was sitting front and center, just feet away from the stage. When my boss took stage, with blond wig, top hot and Tom Petty’s token round sunglasses, Goom sat mesmerized and didn’t move. He watched taking it all in flanked by the Captain and me.

When it was over Goom wondered when my boss was going to be on stage. He didn’t realize that he had been on stage the whole time in “disguise”. We all laughed, including my boss. After saying our good-byes we drove home with an enthusiastic Goom telling us he wanted to go see live music all the time.

The next morning Goom said, “I learned a big lesson last night. When you have a good team behind you, it is easier to be brave.”

I couldn’t think of a wiser thing to say...and how blessed are we that the Captain has become a part of our team.

change...

2009-12-04T06:44:00.000-08:00

HERE IT IS....MY NEW LOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm thrilled, giddy, excited, psyched, over the moon...the list goes on and on but I'm also a little nervous.

Not everyone embraces change and we often hold too tight to things to keep them the same and end up destroying the very things we are holding on to.

Fear grips and destroys.

So tell me what are you holding on to?

p.s. If you want your blog to rock, please click on "Get Rocked" on my sidebar. Mary is AMAZING. It was so much fun to create this look.

theme thursday "friend"...

2009-12-03T06:58:00.000-08:00

To be a better friend, I've had to learn to...

along the path...

2009-12-02T10:12:00.000-08:00

There are many spiritual exercises to build your co-creator muscles when traveling along the path; dream boards, crystal work, meditation, energy work, etc. It all leads to training the mind, listening to the heart, and clearing the path for love and true liberation.

There is also another exercise I like to call writing “as if.” In this exercise you write "as if" it has already come to pass. This is powerful stuff if your feelings match your words. Meaning, you must feel as though everything you are writing is your reality. If you are writing but feel the divide between your words and your emotions, nothing will come of it. If you feel wanting or sad or desperate or anything lower than true gratefulness and joy you are not co-creating be reinforcing what does not exist.

Last March I did this exercise and thought I’d share it with you. I often find the writing becomes stream of consciousness. Rereading it is always fascinating. The only thing I would change is I would not call myself a healer. I open channels of healing but it is up to Spirit and the individual to heal. I also find what is important to me revealing. Enjoy…

I am living a life of true liberation and I am blessed. I am healer and have a small haven, an oasis where people gather to experience peace. I have an amazing husband who also lives from a place of freedom. We are blessed with our children, love, emotional bliss, joy, travel, freedom, gratefulness, and the sun.

I am working as a healer, coach and I write. My day unfolds naturally with loving guidance from Spirit and all. I have all the money I need and want.

My husband is of substance. He is handsome and we have fantastic chemistry, a slight touch from him and I’m fully awake – this connection comes from a wonderful and healthy emotional bond where our first concern is the happiness of the other. We do not drink except wine on the rare occasion, and no smoking or drugs. We are grateful for what we have and treasure it. I know exactly what to say when he is down – with a touch, a smile, he knows he is loved and feels like the luckiest man in the world to have me (and he is) and I am the luckiest woman alive to have him.

With this beautiful life and relationship I also know that I know nothing and will listen to the guidance of Spirit in every moment of my day.

I have given up the right to ever have a successful relationship and this is where freedom presides.

The Universal power of co-creation comes from feelings of gratefulness and love.

a picture worth a thousand words...

2009-12-01T09:00:00.000-08:00

But Goom wasn't the only one interested in the tree...

So was Izzy!

Happy December 1st...and so it begins...

much love,

i'm back...

2009-11-30T10:26:00.000-08:00

What a wonderful experience to unplug, relax, and spend time with loved ones. On Saturday I only opened my computer to play music. The weekend was full of festivities, chili night, Thanksgiving dinner, tree decorating, and a movie. Oh and lots of sleep. Last night Goom sat at the foot of the tree and stared into it with awe and excited. There is no better gift than seeing your child's face light up with wonder.

Over the weekend, I came across this amazing little story in Autobiography of a Yogi that I had to share with you.

“After weeks without food, he would break his fast with potfuls of clabbered milk offered to him by devotees. A skeptic once determined to expose Trailanga as a charlatan. A large bucket of calcium-lime mixture, used in whitewashing walls, was placed before the swami.

‘Master,” the materialist said, in mock reverence. ‘I have brought you some clabbered milk. Please drink it.’

Trailanga unhesitatingly drank, to the last drip, the quarts of burning lime. In a few minutes the evildoer fell to the ground in agony.

‘Help, Swami, help!’ he cried. ‘I am on fire! Forgive my wicked test!’

The great yogi broke his habitual silence. ‘Scoffer,’ he said, ‘you did not realize when you offered me poison that my life is one with your own. Except for my knowledge that God is present in my stomach, as in every atom of creation, the lime would have killed me. Now that you know the divine meaning of boomerang, never again play tricks on anyone.’

The sinner, healed by Trailanga’s words, slunk feebly away.

The reversal of pain was not a result of the master’s will but of the operation of the law of justice that upholds creation’s farthest swinging orb. The functioning of the divine law is instantaneous for men of the God-realization like Trailanga; they have banished forever all thwarting crosscurrents of ego.”

I hope your past week was blessed with love and joy. It is truly the beginning of a magical season.

giving thanks...

2009-11-23T13:13:00.000-08:00

Like so many others, I will be unplugging this week to enjoy all the Thanksgiving festivities with loved ones. I have so much to be thankful for and one of the things I am most thankful for is you. Your comments and well wishes mean the world to me. I feel so blessed to no longer be blogging in a void and to have found such an amazing community full of support and love.

Enjoy your week. Happy Thanksgiving. See you next Monday.

much love,

being...

2009-11-22T11:40:00.000-08:00

If I am unable to "fall" in love with you, I fear I am doomed to never find true love.

Have you ever felt like this?

my greatest fear...

2009-11-21T07:48:00.000-08:00

flashback friday (2007)...

2009-11-20T12:37:00.001-08:00

'How to Marry A Nice Guy When All You Really Want is an Asshole...' November 30, 2007

It’s finally raining in LA. It’s far overdue. I relish the rain. It’s calming and cozy and makes me want to snuggle up under a blanket and read books. The rain is what I miss most about Seattle.

Last night I went to get my hair done. This has become an every six week ritual because I have bleached short hair – aka, expensive hair. Maxi, my stylist, is a twenty-six year old single mom, helicopter pilot, and entrepreneur. She lives life passionately and always has a good story to tell. Last night was no different.

For the past few months I’ve been hearing about her tryst with a very hot LA photographer. This guy turns her crank like no other. He has complete control over her. Its torture –I’ve been there. After putting bleach on my hair she showed me pictures of her hot guy. I took one look at him and said, “He’s an asshole.”

“How do you know?” She screamed.

“You can see it in his eyes.”

“I know but I can’t get enough of him.”

“Been there done that.”

I Googled my gorgeous-unattainable-divine-actor-ex-asshole. Several super hot pictures popped up along with a few fan sites.

“Whhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyy?” She whined. “Why assholes?”

“This is not an easy question to answer,” I said as I walked back to my perch looking like the Heat Miser from The Year without a Santa Claus.

I had dated a lot of assholes but why? Perhaps I was enraptured by their brilliance and beauty, two things I didn’t believe I had. I also wasn’t ready for the real deal so dating the unattainable was fun and kept me from having to deal with anything beyond the chase. Looking back, the affairs were ensconced with pain. I wasn’t happy. I was lying to myself.

My phone rang. It was MM (boyfriend at the time).

“Did you get my text,” he asked.

He’d sent me a text earlier that said, “I’m so glad to have found you. You were just what I was in need of. I’ll talk to you soon.” I had read it but wasn’t sure how to respond so I didn’t.

“I’m falling in love with you so I’m a little sensitive, like a school girl,” he said.

Maxi pointed to the sink.

“Oh, I’m in the middle of getting my hair done. Can I call you back?” I hung up the phone and enthusiastically told Maxi what he had said.

“I’d run to the hills if my guy said that to me,” she said.

She wasn’t ready and yet she still was tortured by her guy. Dating assholes is a phenomenon that’s impossible to understand.

I told Maxi the only words of wisdom I have are these, don’t settle and believe you deserve to be loved. Until then have fun and don’t worry about it. It’s all resolving itself. The man of your dreams is making his way towards you and you’ll hear him coming. When the time is right, he’ll knock on your door.

I've wanted to write a book called 'How To Marry A Nice Guy When All You Really Want Is An Asshole' since I was 26. Perhaps someday I will.

theme thursday "late"...

2009-11-19T12:02:00.000-08:00

Sometimes being late is the best thing that could ever happen to us and sometimes it is the worse.

Theme Thursday

tell me...

2009-11-18T11:35:00.001-08:00

your story of "falling" in love...

XO,

julian sands and my first love...

2009-11-17T13:21:00.000-08:00

I’m not sure which movie I saw Julian Sands in first. It was either Oxford Blues or A Room with a View. In Oxford Blues he played an elite rower and was Rob Lowe’s main competition until they had to compete together. In A Room with a View, he played George, Lucy’s love interest. He was a romantic poet and took my breath away. I fell in love instantly and as all young fourteen year old girls do, I hung pictures of him my wall.

A few years later when I was seventeen, I joined our school’s crew team. We were a public school and rowed with the Everett High School to afford the extreme costs of the sport. It was there I met my first love, Stuart. It was love at first sight. He looked exactly like Julian Sands and he rowed, just like Julian Sands did in Oxford Blues. It took a couple months for us to get together but once we did, I felt like I had won the lottery. I was truly, madly, and deeply in love with him. We were so in love with each other and both virgin’s. We chose to lose our virginities together. I was seventeen and he was sixteen. It was magical. (We drifted in and out of each other’s lives for twenty more years.) (And come to find out my sister lost her virginity the same night upstairs, LOL) Anyway…

In 1991 I was doing an internship in Seattle at The Empty Space Theater. One day at lunch, I was looking for a place to eat when I glanced across the street and saw Stuart. My heart raced, I quickened my step to cross the street and hopefully meet him at the corner. I crossed the street and ran up to him to discover it wasn’t Stuart, it was Julian Sands. My heart stopped and I almost fainted. Can you imagine, “Oh, Sorry Julian I thought you were my first love!” –too funny. Julian was shooting Crazy in Love in Seattle that summer.

Several years later when I was thirty, I took an Iyengar yoga workshop in LA with Manouso Manos, a senior Iyengar teacher. I was waiting to go into the studio when Julian Sands walks through the front door. I started to shake and walked into one of the dressing rooms to pull myself together. I didn’t know how I was going to focus on class and not Julian doing yoga. Of all the famous people, Julian is probably the only one that would stir such emotion in me. Manouso was a very tough teacher so I got focused very quickly.

A few months later, I did another workshop with Manouso and put my mat right next to Julian’s so I could accidently touch him in poses. And yes, I did touch him, a few times throughout class. This was also the weekend I became pregnant with Goom.

Since then I’ve seen Julian Sands on my hikes up Runyan. I believe he lives in the house right next to the park.

As for Stuart, I loaned him a large amount of money about four years ago. I had to hire a lawyer to get it back. I haven’t spoken to him since. However, if our paths did cross, there would be no hard feelings. I still love him and wish him well.

ask me mondays II...

2009-11-16T15:21:00.000-08:00

I think Ask Me Mondays is great to do once a month. So here I am, for the second round.

1.) “We all have those things we really want to tell, but won’t until someone asks, what is the one thing you have been dying for one of us to ask?” - Asked by Brian Miller. There isn’t really one thing. I enjoy sharing my life (obviously) so I’m fascinated by what people are interested in about it. It gives me perspective on myself and my blog.

2.) “Have you thought of or do you teach, talk on or write books on any of the spiritual happenings in your life?” – Asked by Steven Anthony
I haven’t yet but I’m sure this is in my future. My blog is paving the way. It is helping me define myself and by being asked questions I can hone what is helpful to people and what is not. My blog is an important stepping stone on my path.

3.) “Which famous person that you’ve met was the nicest to you? And which was the most obnoxious?” -Asked by Cairo Type
I’m going to assume you mean after they were famous. I recently met Laura Linney and she was wonderful, completely unaffected by her celebrity. I also love Leland Orser, one of Goom’s soccer coaches. He is a great coach and has really helped Goom get into the game without judgment. Terrence Howard was also amazing. He made me feel like I was the only woman in the world…big flirt. The most obnoxious was Denzel Washington (believe it or not) but he could have been having a bad night. I met him eleven years ago. His best friend was wonderful!

4.) “How about a story about Julian Sands?” – Asked by Nessa
Wonderful question. I’m going to write a post about Julian Sands tomorrow. The story is worthy of its own post.

5.) “Besides Brendan Fraser, how many other celebrities have you met?” –Asked by Otin.
To be honest, too many to count; I’ve been blessed with very successful friends. I am two degrees of separation away from anyone in this town. But celebrities are weary of people. They don’t like to be used and they don’t let you in until they are certain you are interested in them and not their celebrity. People think it would be great to be famous but it is not. It is a DRAG. When I’m with friends who are recognizable, they are stared at and approached without regard to their personal space.

6.) “If you could escape from any one feature of your life what would it be?” – Asked by Steven
I would escape from the relationship I’m forced to have with my baby-daddy. But he is there for a reason so obviously I have lessons to learn.

7.) “How old were you when you lost your virginity and what were the circumstances?” – Asked by Alix (a nice bold question)
Believe it or not I’m going to tie my answer in with my Julian Sands story.

8.) “How many lies do you speak per day?” – Asked by Shri Ramesh
I never lie. I don’t know how.

9.) “What was the reason behind you starting this blog?” – Asked by Protégé
I started this blog two years ago to work on my prose writing. Now I see it as a way to share my life and perhaps help others by doing so. (And yes, the picture was of me at six.)

10.) “Do you believe in reincarnation? How did you come to that conclusion?” – Asked by Menopausal New Mom
I definitely believe in reincarnation. It’s something I’ve always known to be true but it helps when you are told from the other side that what they miss most about being embodied is living through the senses. I also think my spirit loves being here in this body and that is why I am healthy, and eat good food, and drink good wine, and I love to kiss and make love. I am very physical because I know my time here is fleeting.

11.) “How long have you been working on your memoir?” Asked by Susan R. Mills
For two months…not very long.

12.) “What has been your biggest regret in life?” –Asked by The Watcher
I’m fortunate to say, I don’t have one. When I was very young I committed to living a life without regret. I’ve always followed my heart and done what I’ve wanted to do.

I'm sorry I wasn't able to link to all your wonderful blogs this time. It was either spend an hour linking or reading you blogs and I chose to read.

ask me anything...

2009-11-15T08:25:00.000-08:00

Happy Sunday! Tomorrow I'm bringing back Ask Me Monday....so go for it, ask me anything -nothing is taboo. In fact "taboo" is more fun!

Have a fabulous day.

much love,

flashback friday (1989)...

2009-11-13T11:36:00.000-08:00

November 15, 1989

Sitting in Shakespeare, I can’t stop thinking about last night. What and how do I feel? I’ve been attracted to a man named Brendan for quite some time but have never acted on it because he was too far out – unreachable.

Last night I went to see Brendan’s Senior Production at Cornish. It was an amazing show. Afterwards Kelli, Jason and I were sitting in the Deli when he walked in. I noticed him immediately. He sat across the room. Jason told him what a great show it was and Brendan spoke to Kelli for a minute. I caught him looking at me twice. Once when I was messing with Jason’s sweater and again when I was pulling on my tights.

Kelli and Jason left, followed by Brendan. I was alone when Brendan suddenly returned alone. He stood looking at the posters and then sauntered over to me. I told him I loved his show and we introduced ourselves. I stumbled over my words unable to form a coherent sentence like my tongue was too big for my mouth.

I haven’t felt that giddy in a long time and the energy was indescribable. There was a wanting to know each other but loss of words to do so. Perhaps in time, he is moving in with my good friend Twylla.

Brendan did move in with my friend. We created a lot of memories together. The furniture from my childhood home was their living room furniture. (I can’t remember how that happened.) We celebrated his twenty-first birthday, New Year’s Eve, early career successes and were all frustrated when his bike got stolen.

We never got over being slightly uncomfortable with each other. I always had a crush on him. Once, he offered to help me with my monologue for drama class, I was beside myself - way too shy. Can you imagine Brendan helping me with my acting? Even back then he was a bit of a “star.” He was definitely something special.

When he moved to LA we lost touch. I ran into him in the elevator at Seattle’s International Film Festival a few weeks before I moved to LA in 1997. We exchanged numbers and we spoke a few times when I first moved down but then he got married and became an even bigger success with THE MUMMY.

The last time I saw him was probably five years ago at Gulfstream in Century City. I went up to say hi and as always, my tongue suddenly grew too big for my mouth. I’m sure the guys at the table with him thought it was because he was “BRENDAN FRASER” but I knew it was because it was how it had always been. We reminisced and had a laugh and said good-bye.

theme thursday "telephone"...

2009-11-12T06:41:00.000-08:00

Since meeting you, when I wake up, I check my phone.

What do I expect to find?

What am I missing?

Theme Thursday

speechless...

2009-11-11T11:54:00.000-08:00

That's my dad in the pink shirt and cowboy hat. He fought in Vietnam. Send him love. He's with his mother (97), his sister and her husband. The other woman in the hat is my step-mom.

In honor of Veteran's day I'm sharing this "christmas" tree with you. It left me speechless and I can't stop laughing...who would buy this thing?

being mirrored...

2009-11-10T16:06:00.000-08:00

On Sunday, Goom and I were kicking a soccer ball around in a park with a couple friends, when he came over pointing to a little girl who was crying because of a scratch she had received from a fall off her scooter.

He nudged me towards her.

“What? What do you want me to do?” I said gently, concerned for the girl even though she was being taken care of by her mother.

“I want you to go take care of her.”

“Why? Her mother’s there.”

“Because you take of everyone,” he said and then quickly went back to kicking the soccer ball.

I melted. There are moments as a mother when you question yourself. Wondering what kind of job you are doing. Hoping that even when you are tough, somehow they know it is for their greatest good.

A moment like this is an affirmation, that yes, you are doing things well.

He mirrored me in a most profound and unexpected way. I couldn’t ask for anything more than to be viewed as nurturing by my son; especially when I didn’t have a role model to learn from.

"oogley-boogley"...

2009-11-09T15:25:00.001-08:00

It seems when you open up to all the possibilities of the Universe, the Universe opens up to you. The more you believe, the more you are shown. I use to call this “spiritual” part of my life “oogley-boogley.” I didn’t really think it was oogley-boogley. I just said it to put non-believers at ease, make it light and still be able to tell a tale or two. Of course, most of my stories would end with “I know, isn’t it crazy?” and then I’d courtesy laugh while making a crazy face to show that I know I’m crazy.

I’ve had a lot of “strange” things happen since working with Matrix Energetics, visiting Max, and playing with energy. People have collapsed under my touch and gone on amazing journeys of healing. The floor has melted from under my feet causing me to almost fall over. If I really need something I just think it and it shows up. My thoughts come out of other people’s mouths (this always makes me giggle) and synchronicity happens several times a day. So much so that I wouldn’t even call this “strange” anymore. The veil of perception has become quite thin in my life and I’ve gotten quite use to it.

But there are still things that take me by surprise and one of those things happened the other night. I was in bed about to fall asleep or perhaps I had fallen asleep when I was suddenly awakened. The name Heath Ledger popped into my head and I knew his energetic presence was in the room. No, he wasn’t sitting at the end of the bed. I didn’t “see” him. I felt him, energetically. He wasn’t alone. There were other wiser energies with him as well. It was as if he was brought in for a lesson, my lesson.

Then I heard, “I’m going to show you what happened to me when I died.” I immediately felt my heart race, jump and skip beats and then it stopped. Once my heart stopped my organs started to shut down. Starting with the organs closest to my heart and ending with my bowels collapsing. I remember thinking, oh this wasn’t pretty. By the end of it, I was exhausted and I was “alone” again.

Before falling asleep, I realized I’d been taught a skill. This is how I’m meant to intuit other people’s “stuff”. This was a lesson. I’ve had similar experiences in my waking life. I usually feel people’s hearts and I can get a pretty good sense of what is happening with them emotionally and physically. I don’t have to be in the same room with them. I sense it over emails, on the phone, etc. but I had never thought of it as a skill to be honed.

The next morning, I woke up and had completely forgotten all about what had happened the night before until a friend started telling me about how she was feeling sick. I thought, yeah, my body really went through something last night and then like dominoes falling into place, I ended up remembering my Heath Ledger experience. Of course, I told the story and finished with, “I know isn’t it crazy,” courtesy laugh and crazy face.

As the day progressed, I wandered why Heath Ledger but if it had been someone else would I have known? Would I have paid attention? Probably not. I can just imagine, “Hey, here’s Joe Shmo.” I would have stayed asleep. My first “lesson” had to be big so I would know it was happening because energy is subtle.

I asked Mia if this happens to her and she said, "Yes, all the time."

Welcome to my oogley-boogley world.

who's the best?...

2009-11-08T18:46:00.000-08:00

The other day, Goom was telling me about how one of his friends always think they are the best.

I said, “Well, who do you think is the best?”

“I think everyone is the best. Every one is the same.”

I’m so in love with my little Sage.

the future...

2009-11-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

My future smells sweet like wet autumn leaves mixed with smoke from a wood burning fire.

what does your future smell like?

flashback friday (1996)...

2009-11-06T06:09:00.000-08:00

This is a farewell letter I wrote to the man who broke my heart.

June 8, 1996

B,
I realize things are difficult now. I opened my soul to you and this happens rarely in my life. I hate loss and I don’t believe things stay the same forever. They are always changing and moving. People are always growing. I always accepted you for who you are and only wanted to assist you and support you in your endeavors.

I kept thinking that one day I would wake up and I wouldn't love you. I thought the magic that surrounds me when I'm with you would disappear. It never did. It grew each day and the shadow that followed each day was that one-day you would walk out the door. It scared me and so I acted irrationally, angry, jealous.

I realize we will be a part of each other’s lives somehow in some capacity. I never close doors forever.

I must be honest and say I have never loved as I have loved you.

I have not felt this much pain in my life. It has affected me physically. I do not blame you for my pain. We are two separate people and must do what's right for our own selves.

I will miss the way you make me laugh. I know you believe that my relationship to you is based on sex but that is farthest from the truth. My attraction to you was what you said, our conversations, and our time spent together. Sex just lifted my spirit high and fed my soul in a way that I never thought possible.

Please do not feel stifled by this letter or me. It's just a way of expressing myself. I have written you many letters all of which I have thrown away.

I cherish what we've shared. I will have fond memories of it forever. I will miss the smell of your hair and the way your skin feels. If I never find this again at least I have known it, the feeling.

theme thursday "castle"...

2009-11-05T06:59:00.000-08:00

In her castle, a queen anticipates the arrival of her king.

She hopes to recognize him.

She has never met him.

What is Theme Thursday? Click here, Theme Thursday

karma...

2009-11-04T13:46:00.000-08:00

The equilibrating law of karma, as expounded in the Hindu scriptures, is that of action and reaction, cause and effect, sowing and reaping. In the course of natural righteousness (rita), each man, by his thoughts and actions, becomes a molder of his destiny. Whatever universal energies he himself, wisely or unwisely, has set in motion must return to him as their starting point, like a circle inexorably completing itself.

'The world looks like a mathematical equation, which, turn it how you will, balances itself. Every secret is told, every crime is punished, every virtue rewarded, every wrong redressed, in silence and certainty.' – Emerson

An understanding of karma as the law of justice underlying life’s inequalities serves to free the human mind from resentment against God and man.

from Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda

gift giving...

2009-11-03T14:58:00.000-08:00

I don’t know about you but I love giving gifts, especially if I have the perfect gift in mind. There is nothing better than watching a loved one’s eyes light up when they open something really special, even if I haven’t given it, I still enjoy it. Christmas is all about the giving, not the getting.

However, it seems as I’ve gotten older and spend less time with family and have cut out most of my friend giving (its just too expensive with kids) finding the perfect gift is a Herculean task. I almost dread it. We are now in November and I haven’t a clue what to get anyone.

I ask for lists and then feel like a machine ordering from Amazon. (It doesn’t help that I travel back to Seattle for the holidays.) I don’t remember from one year to the next what I’ve gotten and to be honest, they don’t either. Stuff becomes stuff. You know those sorts of gifts, a candle, DVD, iTunes card, blanket, tree ornament, yes they are appreciated but the receiver is rarely gushing with enthusiasm.

A couple years ago I decided I was going to cut down on the exchange of “stuff” (that usually ends up junk) and give more meaningful gifts so I bought the gift of bees, a flock of ducks and geese through Heifer International. I restored someone’s sight and contributed towards enrichment programs for Native Americans through the Seva Foundation. There were lots of amazing gifts of service to choose from and I felt like I was really making a difference in the name of people I love. Both organizations sent beautiful cards. I had told my family I was doing this before I did it.

But when Christmas morning arrived and my family opened their beautiful cards and were told what had been given in honor of them, it didn’t feel magical; even though I can’t imagine a more magical gift than eyesight.

Last year I went back to giving gifts and I honestly couldn’t tell you what I got anyone, except for an iTunes card and some legos.

This year I was once again wondering what to get people when I received my Seva Foundation catalogue. I opened it up and read “Restore Sight to a Blind Person, $50” It made me laugh. Do I really need to look further? I can restore sight to a blind person for $50 and that is priceless to me.

As for making it special on Christmas morning, I’ll find a way.