A Very Different Valentine's

It's a very different Valentine's this year....

As many of you know, my beloved father passed away on Valentine's Day, now four years ago.  There is an echo from that broken day which still resounds, however more faintly than in years before.  As I prayed to him this morning, I was happy to say that my heart has mostly healed from his passing, and my grief rides a much gentler breeze, which only wafts in now and again.  I thought, maybe by now, I am but a part of his cellular memory - that in his transitioning, hopefully, he has moved on from this life, and I am now embedded into the core of his being, along with all his other lifetimes passed.  In thinking of it this way, it seemed like yet another blessing in being alive - that for as long as I am here, my memory of him is vividly intact, and I may continue to enjoy him, laugh at him, love him.... and cherish him with all my heart.

Indeed, I have been at peace with my father for a long time now, accepting his loss as part of my life.  Until recently, when the depths of my grief came back with a great vengeance... when I found out I was pregnant.  When it occurred to me that my child would never know this most amazing man who would have been his loving and doting Papa, I became overwhelmed with despair.  Inconsolable, I called my Mom, who told me she had thought of this as well.  She offered this perspective: that Dad, in the other world, had already known this child before he even came to me.  That my Dad had held this baby, and kissed him and loved him, before sending him on his way here.  A big part of me feels that reasoning sounds so fairy-tale-like... and yet, I have chosen to believe that story with every fiber of my being.  I have had to find solace, once again, in my memories of my father - that I will pass onto my son all that my father has gifted me, and in that way, my boy will know his Papa.  Those are some big shoes for me to fill.... good thing I feel he prepared me well.

I thought Valentine's Day had been forever ruined for me because of my father's death, yet although the tears are flowing this morning, there is no way for me to overlook the love that is now enveloping me in my life.  It is the first Valentine's since his passing that I have even had a beloved - and not one, but two!  With this baby boy inside me, and this incredible man with his arms around me, I am wrapped into the most beautiful bundle of love I have ever known.  As I look back over my life, I don't think I've ever had this kind of mutual, reciprocal love.  I had truly given up believing it could ever exist, because it never had.  I wasn't looking for it, and certainly wasn't expecting it.  But somehow, love has found a way.  Even my scars are being covered over by fresh tissue and new skin.

Many people struggle on Valentine's, feeling lonely and unloved.  I have had my fair share of those V-Days, and then to the nth degree, coupled with my grief.  But it is a very different Valentine's for me this year, proving once again - because I never seem to learn this lesson enough - life is perfect and amazing, and we never know what is waiting for us just around the corner.  All the love in the world is ours.  And just when that finally makes seems to make sense, even more comes fleeting in.

A Reconciliation with Anger

Confronted by my anger these past few days, and reflecting upon its very nature, and effects, I come to find that I am, in fact, delighted by its force.

I have always been chided by others for the intensity and fierceness of my rage... comical (to me, at least), because the real depth and full expression of it have really only ever been witnessed by a humbled few.  This makes me laugh to myself (snickering witch that I am), for in knowing how transgressed people have become in catching wind of my heat, and how it has utterly changed one's previous estimation of my good nature and expansive heart, I muse to myself, "If only they had seen the REAL me..."

The truth about my anger is this: it has never come without warrant, and most usually, only after a series of offenses have amassed.  I don't just fly off the handle for no good reason, nor am I prone to express myself in an unjust manner (hence, the reason why so few have actually seen the true ire of my fire).  I am not without my social graces, despite what anyone would say - I am entirely deliberate in my deliveries, and thoughtful in my thrashings.  And, on occasion, when I admittedly overstep my boundaries (God help the melodrama - but I am a performer, after all), I am quick to take responsibility and own and accept my trespasses.  So, really, by most demonic standards, I prove to be most winning in my arguments - if only for my sense of propriety, if not for my argument alone.

Another virtue of my vexation (before I begin to sound immodest), is that for as grand and as awesomely awful as my furies may be, they are short lived (thank the sweet Goddess), and usually blow over just as soon as they are let out.  Those that linger, however (and mind you!), those more deeply rooted umbrages which cannot be loosed by earthquake or explosion, those are ones to worry over.... chained to a deeper pain from this life or another, these tempt my violence - which even I wouldn't dare to guffaw.

However, I have come to respect, admire and celebrate my anger - particularly as I age, in my refinement of rage - for my enmity serves me in more ways than I had previously known.  Most clearly, it stands as guardian of the boundaries of my deeper spirit.  Where my heart or mind may convince me otherwise in any trying situation, my anger stands firm where I, or others would betray my very self.  It jumps to the quick in my own defense, when I have lost sight of my own good sense, harkening me to see that now is not the time for patience, compassion or to forgive - now is the moment when Kali rises with Her sword at the neck, with Her enduring threat that should you take one more step, utter one more word, or cast one more look, you will become sashimi for Her feast of fury.

Ironically, anger serves best in love as well - or rather, where love is not, or can no longer be.  Giving into tears and grief when the heart has been betrayed only prolongs the process - how many women have you known to sing their doleful dirge for weeks, months, even years after love has left them?  I'd count myself as one of them, except that after all my horrid experiences, I find I have been most utterly cried out.  This has proven to be a great boon, for anger is now the star of the show.... and when the heart ices over rather than melts, one can skate her way to a  brand new day.  No more being mired in the mush - I prefer a surer foothold on more solid ground.

It's true: anger usually bears its face, concealing a deeper sadness or fear.  But, isn't that also a brilliant attribute?  For when I fall to pieces, or cower in a corner, I become vulnerable to others abuses and manipulations - those vicious vampires who glamour a weakened mind so easily, head flopped to one side or the other in grief and despair, exposing the juicy jugular they come to feed upon.  But when I bare my teeth, and growl from the depths of my being, others take heed with speed.  My anger becomes the source of their fear, and they may throw nasty comments about me in the air, or gossip about my supposed cruel intentions.... but they reveal in their slandering their own vulnerabilities, and they never dare to come near.

Anger is fire and passion - it motivates and drives.  It is an unstoppable and unyielding power, an uncontainable energy, a force which cannot be reckoned.  Even the gods have been praised for their mighty vengeances.  And, don't we all bow to the power and might of a hurricane, wildfire, earthquake, or flood?

Many have tried to shame me throughout my life for my anger, and today I throw your shame back in your own face.  I celebrate, I honor, and I cherish my anger.  It is one very strong component which makes up the totality of me, and I will not deny it.  The Goddess gives and the Goddess takes away.

And when all has burned to the ground, new life shoots up into the cleared skies of day.

On Loving a Powerful Woman

"Men are intimidated by you, because you are a powerful woman, " he said.

I looked him square in the eye and replied, "RIGHT.  Which is exactly why I need a powerful man who is not afraid, and who is confident in himself.  I cannot give away my love to lesser men anymore."

He said he felt like if I were a "normal" woman (I interrupted to clarify what he meant by a "normal" woman... apparently, one who is not as "powerful" as he deems me to be), that if I were this "normal" woman, he would likely not only be fully on board, but steering the ship, and pulling me up along his side.

"That makes no sense," I said.

"I KNOW!" he replied.

I thought about it more this morning.

I realized that if he (or any man) were with a "normal" woman, they would end up tiring of her sooner or later.  A "normal" woman wouldn't challenge him, or help his spirit to grow.  She would be more dependent on him - the kind of woman that thinks she needs a man to complete her, to make her happy, or make her life easier, or fulfill some fairytale story she's had programmed into her mind about how her life is SUPPOSED to be.

This neediness and codependence (which men heartily complain about amongst themselves) actually fulfills some vain, egoic desire which has also been programmed into the male minds, about how their lives are supposed to be - the hero, the rescuer, the strong man who swoops in and takes care of the frail woman who needs him so.

I have been this woman at other times in my life, and I have had men who played that role very well.  It always ended the same: after the story plays out, and the "normalcy" really sets in, the man begins to feel drained.  He becomes resentful of the woman, and bored with her.  Just as she is starting to settle in to her "happily ever after, " he is looking for his method of escape - to be freed from the cage of the needy woman, whose frailty has become an annoyance, and whose attractiveness dwindles with every tapping into his every resource.

Like any dream worth having, partnering with a "powerful" woman requires much more from the man. He will be initially attracted to her for all her obvious gifts, talents, strength and beauty.  He will admire her independence, her emotional maturity, and her ability to reason.  He will consider that, maybe, he has finally found a woman who can match HIM, and will be turned on by the thought.... but soon, inevitably, the challenge presents itself:

"To be with me, you must be straight with yourself.  I am honest and direct.  I communicate my feelings and needs.  I have no need to lie, because I act with integrity, and my choices and behaviors reflect that.  I don't play games, and I have no time for emotional manipulation.

"To be with me, you must work hard - not because I need it, or depend on it, nor demand it - but because I work hard.  In order for you to feel confident, and to have the self-respect you need to balance a woman of great power, you will intrinsically be pushed by YOURSELF to succeed.

"To be with me, you will have to face your depths of emotion, and allow yourself to be vulnerable... for there will be times (as there are in all our lives) when you will struggle, and you will need to lean on my strength to help get you through.  You will have to swallow your pride, and trust that there is no shame in it, none at all!  But rather, a greater emotional maturity will be gained, making you more of a whole man.

"To be with me, you will need to be introspective, self-aware, disciplined, and striving to grow as a man, a human, a spirit.  There will be an ebb and flow in both our lives as we grow, but the rate of incline will be steady, and we will weather the seasons of our lives in balance, together."

Unlike the paradigm of partnering with a "normal" woman, where the requirement is based on supplying for her needs, to be with a "powerful" woman requires the deeper work of personal transformation.  It demands confronting the innermost sanctums of your soul, and understanding your spirit's mission in this life.  This is the work we are all meant to do, yet so few of us have the courage to see it through.

With a "powerful" woman at your side, you are supported in this mission.... and the rewards for living your soul's purpose are infinite, mostly because at the center of your being, you will be satisfied.  Unlike with the "normal" woman, who allows you to exist in a shallow superficiality, which might be comfortable and even look good to you and those around you, but will inevitably and always leave you with the feeling that it is not enough, that there is something more out there, and that somehow this relationship is preventing you from getting it.  You will look externally - at other women, at acquiring possessions, by turning to vices - to try to sate that hunger...

But that hunger is your own spirit that needs to be fed... and that sustenance lies solely in the abundant love of the "powerful" woman.

Aho!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes...

Writing in my journal this morning, I touched on a topic that I felt worthy of sharing here.  For at the base of all our spiritual endeavors and personal growth, despite whatever path you take or manner you subscribe to, comes one common and key element: change.

I have often said, "There is only one constant in life, and that is change.  The more I am able to bend and flow with the waves of change coming in with each tide, the more smoothly I can charter the waters of my life."  While I have said this many times over the years, I have spent a great portion of my life resisting change.  Even when I knew that by making changes to any unsuccessful, unhealthy or undesired circumstance I was facing, that it would inevitably bring about a new experience (likely for the better), I would dig in my heels and flat out refuse to "give in."  That's how I saw it: a giving in.  A buckling.  A kowtowing to some greater force that thought it knew better than I what was best for me and my life?!  "I think not!"  I wanted to believe that my thinking was clear, my intentions were solid, and that I was worthy of my goals.... and maybe I was.  Maybe I truly was all of those things.  But what I wasn't accepting was that the very things I was sinking my teeth and nails into to, to hold on to for dear life, may not have been worthy of me.  For, at any given time, there are a multitude of unseen and unheard details which are hidden from us, which only God/dess knows.  I wasn't just refusing to change.  I was refusing to have faith that God was looking out for me.

Journaling this morning, I was commenting that for the past few days, I have been thinking of a man I feel in love with a year ago.  He lives in Costa Rica, and we met through mutual friends on facebook, intrigued by one another's work (I'm a singer, he's a photographer), each other's personality and personal expression, and (let's face it) a very profound mutual attraction.  It was at this time one year ago that he came to visit me for the first time.  In those two weeks of his visit, I found myself enveloped in a most incredible sensation of love for him - and possibly with him (though, in retrospect, I think we loved very differently).  I remarked that it's possible what I am sensing now, and the reason he's been in mind, is akin to an echo of this time and our experience together last year.  The weather is the same, the flowering plants and trees are reminiscent, the energy of late Spring, coming on Solstice time, is palpable.  What can I say?  It reminds me of him.

Although things didn't work out between us, I can honestly say that I shared a few days with him that I would rank among the best of my life.  For that alone, I feel tremendous gratitude.  Because of that, as well, the heartbreak I suffered was particularly deep and long lasting. We shared this very open, mutual, profound connection for all of six months, but it took about nine for me to truly detach from it, and from him.  The love I felt for him was unlike any I had experienced before, for I was more whole as a person when I met him than I had been in any of my past relationships.  So, there wasn't a need for love, or expectations of it.  It was truly pure and grounded and present... and if you have never experienced that kind of love, let me tell you, it is the most all-encompassing intoxicant one can share with another.

When things didn't work out, when the plans we had made were no longer going to come to fruition, I was forced to change.  There was no way around it.  I had suffered heartbreak before in all its depth and potential self-destructiveness, and knew that I didn't want to walk that dark road yet again in my life.  I focused on acceptance, and moving forward, and releasing the attachment.  I discussed it ad nauseum with my friends and therapist.  I read my tarot cards.  I confronted it through rebirthing breathwork.  I wrote about it, and wrote many songs about it.  I did all the things that I consciously knew I could.... but my emotions, my heart, refused to let go.

Refusing to change is a monologue in the mind.  It's a cd that's set to repeat over and over and over again.  It sounds like this: "But why did this happen?  Why, why, why?  Why did God bring this to me, only to take it away?  Why did this happen to me?  Why did he (or she or they) do this to me?  Why do I always fail?  Why am I not loved?  Why am I not appreciated?  Why can't it ever work out? Why, why, WHYYYYYYY??????!!!!!!"

Sound familiar?

In the nine months that followed the "break-up," I asked these questions even when I promised myself not to ask these questions.  I asked my self, my friends, my Mom, my colleagues, and even HIM! The answers were always the same: "It just is what it is.  These things happen.  It wasn't meant to be."  But these answers, while understanding them clearly on an intellectual level, had very little success in convincing my heart.

It was only a few months ago that I received the answer I was looking for.  Finally, at long last, information about him that had eluded me, or been hidden from me before, now came to the surface.  Now, I clearly saw that he wasn't the man he originally presented himself to be.  His words were not authentic, and so his actions were not in integrity with his words.  In the same way he betrayed my trust months before, now I saw that he was committing the same betrayal on the new woman in his life.  My perception of him changed instantly, now that I had the information I was previously unaware of.  I had been coming from an authentic place, expressing my self clearly, and behaving in alignment with my true spirit, but he wasn't.  He wasn't able to.  Not yet.  He may have talked a good game, and may even be striving towards becoming a person of honor and integrity and with a capacity for true and honorable love, as I was, and am... but that's the journey he's on.  My journey is different, and requires a partner who can meet me equally where I am at.  I thought he was that man.  But he simply wasn't.

God knew this, which is why it didn't work out.  Instead of having faith in that knowledge, I questioned all aspects of my self, my self-worthiness, my dignity and self-respect.  Yes, I felt genuine grief at the ending of a relationship, which is natural, and which always evokes emotions which need to be felt and honored.  But I allowed myself to stay mired unhealthily in those emotions, attached to an outcome that couldn't be - not because this man denied us both the potential of what seemed to be a true love, but because he was incapable of rising up to meet it.  On some level, consciously or unconsciously, he must have known that he wasn't there yet.  So, in essence, in his knowing of himself, he did the right thing by us both.  There is something better for me, better suited to me, already on its way.  I just needed to trust, to have faith, and to be patient.

One year ago today, I was with this beautiful man creating these memories which I will treasure for a lifetime.  I could never have imagined that in only one year, my life's story would look so completely different!  That's another lesson about change: from one day to the next, we can find ourselves heading in completely different directions from what we had ever expected.  Iyanla Vanzant wrote, "The things you anticipate never seem to happen, and the things that happen unexpectedly you probably wouldn't have ever anticipated."  In accepting change, we also release our attachments to outcomes and goals, and begin to live more peacefully in the present moment.  We accept that, ultimately, we have no control over what happens in our lives... we can only control how we respond to it.

One year ago today, my heart rose up and overflowed with love for this man.  Just now, as the rain comes down a little harder and the thunder rumbles nearer across the sky, my heart rises up with love and overflows for it.  For the rain.  For this beautiful, peaceful day in my warm, safe home.  For the inner feeling that I am whole and complete, not doubting myself, or second-guessing my life.  I am clear, I am in alignment with my highest good.  I trust that I am being divinely cared for, provided for, and loved.

In the end, the man brought months and months of tears, heavy with grief, betrayal, and loss.  In the now, this rain brings sweet tears of humbled gratitude and joy.  Things change.  Thank God.  

Passing the Recipe (a letter to a dear friend)

Recently, I received this email from a friend:

"I come to you as a crazy stressed out friend. I am uneasy, stressed, can't focus, can't concentrate, feel like something is lacking in my life. I can't put my finger on it. I NEED SOME PEACE. I am about to make myself crazy. I haven't been exercising, sleeping, eating normal-everything is out of whack! From your posts you seem like you are feeling peaceful and balanced. Pass a girl the recipe (please)!"

I went digging through the recipe cards of my life and experiences, and came upon this.  I've always had the greatest success with this delicacy, and the flavor and satisfaction linger on and on and on...

"Oh my sweet girl! You are in the midst of all kinds of transitions and changes.... it's like the universe has decided to feng shui your life, so it's no wonder you are feeling off kilter! That's what happens when we are transforming, and transitioning into our new lives, so be easy on yourself, to begin. Have compassion for yourself. Love yourself. These things must come first.

After that, there are certainly a host of all kinds of good disciplines you could choose for your life: the optimal words being "choice" and "discipline." Of course, I am always here for counsel, resources, ideas, listening, drinks - you name it! 

If there is a secret to life, the one I know is that the more energy I put into choices and disciplines that are GOOD for me and honor my true spirit, the more GOOD the universe has to offer me.

What's one thing you could do today that would honor your own highest good?.....

At the end of the day, we all know what we have to do. We might think we don't, but really we're avoiding our truth because we aren't sure if we can trust it. "What if I try, and it doesn't work out?" "That might work for some people, but not for me." "It doesn't really matter what I do... nothing will work out the way I want. I'm too ________ or not enough _________." There are millions of people who live with these kinds of self-sabotaging thoughts... spending their whole lives this way, and never REALLY trying what they KNOW they should do to change it.

How do you begin to change? By honoring the simple things first. Clean your house. Light a candle and say a prayer. Make a list of gratitude and look at it and add to it everyday. Change your diet for the better. Cut out more toxins. Exercise. Write. Garden. Think of the very people and the very things that hurt you the most, and sit with it until you can genuinely feel love for them in your heart, and then wrap a blanket of compassion and forgiveness around them, if even for a moment.

These are some ideas... and it's not like you're meant to dive into all of it at once. Change happens slowly, but steadily, one step at a time. Adopt one small new practice into your life - even the simplest one, like making the bed, or lighting a candle. Do that for a few days, a week or two... and then add another one. As you continue to add more and more "good" disciplines into your routine, your life simply MUST change for good. The universe sees your efforts, and rewards you... not big at first, not usually. That's why we get frustrated and quit - we say "Here I've been doing all of this, and God hasn't helped me at all!" But God is just waiting... waiting for that one moment when you almost give up... but then you try even harder.

The more good I keep adding into my life (waking up earlier, eating healthier, running farther, praying longer, singing louder, confronting my responsibilities BEFORE they become problems....) the BIGGER the gifts are from the universe. This has been a process of years for me, starting small, and working my way up to the place I am now, where I am genuinely EXCITED to do these things because I have well learned that when I don't, things go to shit! So, it's exciting to wake up in the morning and tend to my spirit, because then my spirit tends to me for the rest of the day in the most amazing ways!!!!

I also want to say that not only are you not alone, but I think we need to remember that there is a much greater force at work here. Our entire planet and universe is undergoing a tremendous shifting right now, and we are feeling it and having to navigate it with very little understanding of what's happening or why. The most that I know is that as our collective consciousness is transcending into an era of light, so the dark parts of our lives are being forced to fall away to bring us into our highest vibration of being. 

If relationships are ending, or work is changing, or good friends are falling away and new friends are coming into the scene, if people are suffering injuries or illness... all of these things are not for nothing. We have legions of angels and spirits working in each of our lives, stripping away what no longer serves us, and what cannot continue to exist for us in this new paradigm of love, and light.

What we are suffering in this transition is our attachments, which evoke very powerful emotions. You know I have always been an extremely deeply feeling person, but even I have learned that as much as I can be operating and reacting from knowledge versus emotion, I am able to flow much easier. It doesn't mean that I don't feel - no! I allow myself to feel. If I need to cry, I cry. If I need to scream, I scream. If I need to be alone, I take that time. But I consciously acknowledge that these are only emotions, that in the present moment I am safe and protected and loved and provided for, and instead of holding on to the feelings and wallowing in them, I feel them, and then move past them. They may resurface again in an hour, or the next day or next week. But I keep consciously acknowledging them, feeling them, and moving past them... And the more I do that, they show with less frequency and intensity, and I have more time and energy to devote to the positive practices I mentioned before.  Just remember, it's a slow and gradual process... baby steps, babe.

Choice. Discipline. Every single day we wake up, it's up to us to determine how we will live."

The Return of the Divine Feminine (or, at least, a spiritful woman)

I have been hearing the call for some weeks and months now to return to this blog, and recreate my discipline with it.  Each time I have sat down to write, I felt overwhelmed in trying to somehow "sum up" all that I have undergone in these months and years, which are about to inevitably change the tone and meaning of "This Woman's Work."  The work has changed.  My life has changed.  This transformation has been gradual, but also quite rapid, in looking at the big picture.  Trying to regurgitate the vast amount of experiences and steps along the journey would be futile - has been, which is I haven't been writing!  So, today I have decided just to spew from the top of my head whatever thoughts come, as a first step, knowing that the story will reveal itself once I simply get back into this saddle.

If I look back to when I first started blogging, it was three years ago, in what I see now as the most transformational year of my life.  I have written about it often here, so without going into so much detail, let's suffice to say: absolutely everything in my world from my family, to my marriage, to my work, to my music was stripped away from me.  The Universe swooped in to feng shui my life, but I had no idea what the hell was going on.  From my vantage point at that time, it made no sense and seemed unfairly cruel to be forced to accept, let alone survive, such massive upheaval, death and grief.  Writing here was part of my catharsis: I was able to bare my soul publicly through entries, poems, and songs, which made me feel somehow still connected to this world, and not entirely alone and on my own.  I wrote about my love life, my music, my desires, my family (much to their dismay), and pretty much anything that I couldn't contain healthily within me.  Writing has always served that purpose in my life... as a means to unburden myself of the thoughts and emotions which take up too much internal space for me to function in a rational way.  I wrote a lot in that first year or so, and as I began to heal and move forward on my new path, this blog was left behind.

A couple more years have passed since then and now, too much time to chronicle, really.  And anyway, it's all documented in my journals.  Who knows?  Maybe someday this amazing story of rebirth will be shared in its entirety.  But that's a huge project for another time, and mostly irrelevant for my new intentions here...

"This woman" has been doing her "work," and I have been posting little snippets of it here and there on facebook, which has resulted in the receiving of such heartfelt messages from such a vast and varied audience, supporting me on my path, encouraging me, and reflecting to me how my efforts have inspired them with their own.  For this reason, I have been feeling called to begin to document my work here in greater detail, with the intention that my journey, and the transparency with which I share it, will continue to inspire and motivate more and more people.  For, it is at this time on our planet that so many of us are awakening to our highest potentials, and others are in need of our assistance to help them along.

As I have made a spiritual discipline of my life, the true path of my soul becomes more and more visible and more in focus each and every day.  Lessons have been flying in, and I have become more adept at recognizing them, and have figured out this little nugget of wisdom: if we just learn the lesson, and do what it is we KNOW we are being asked to do, life gets easier and easier, and flows more smoothly than we could ever imagine!

I have transitioned from a lifetime (30+ years) of living in a state of lacking, of guilt and shame, of depression, of addiction, and of struggle into a state of abundance and prosperity, balance, true gratitude, prayer, service, and incredible compassion and love.

I awaken earlier and earlier each day, because I am excited to be alive!  I am tearfully blissful almost every morning, and feel spiritually connected to the Earth, to the Universe, and to everyone and everything around me as I walk through my days.

I no longer feel guilt or shame, because even when I make mistakes, I confess them immediately to myself, and to others, taking ownership and responsibility for my actions, and learning as much as I can from each and every situation to better prepare for the next.  I still make mistakes.  I still lose my temper.  I still have a ways to go... but without carrying that toxic load of emotional burden, I am better able to process and grow, even from my worst days (although there are less and less and less of those).

I have largely given up worrying!  Ha!  That was a big one for me!  I read a quote recently which exquisitely expressed a truth I have learned in these years: "If you are depressed, you are thinking of the past.  If you are anxious, you are thinking of the future.  When you are in the present moment, everything is in balance."  I have learned to be present in my life.  No longer ruing over things that have happened, things which can always easily trigger feelings of sadness, or anger, or longing.  Trying hard not to be dreaming of the future - the future which is unknowable, and which always ends up different than how we once imagined it would be.  I have been working on releasing my attachments to goals and end results, because we never know what will happen, or why!

I have learned to be PRESENT, to enjoy the PROCESS.  I have learned to trust in God/dess, that I am being divinely guided and protected, and things are unfolding exactly as they should for my life.  Living in this way, I am at peace.  I get to enjoy each and every day for what it is, and if anything, can trust that by living this way, in a good and peaceful way, the Universe is working even more swiftly and smoothly to bring about positive results in my life.

The list goes on and on, and I will be sharing with you what I am working on, techniques I am experimenting with, resources I turn to, and my progress as well as my setbacks.  We are all on this journey together, but in each of our own unique and individual ways, learning the lessons our spirits most need in order to transcend the old patterns and habits and ideologies which have kept us mired in a reality that doesn't suit is, or our true purpose in life.

Instinctively, somewhere deep inside, we know that there is a better way, a better life waiting for us, but it seems so far-fetched... these books we read, or new age stories we hear on tv, all seem too simple or kinda hocus-pocusey (is that a word?).  Well, I am a very average, white woman from Minnesota.  I have bared my many pains and struggles to you all here before.  Maybe there was a greater purpose in that too: so that as I write of this new life now, you can easily go back and see that the changes I have made are attainable for everyone.

Just as I am sharing with you, others are sharing with me.  We are all both the students and the teachers - no one of us is higher or better or further along than the next.  We are all exactly where we are meant to be, and I wish to say that I HONOR YOU, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever good or fucked up things you are doing in your life.  You are perfect.  However you are embracing your life, or denying it, you are unquestionably learning from it.  That's the most any of us can do.

So, thank you for reading this less-than-eloquent introduction to the new day here at "This Woman's Work."  I hope you will come back to visit, or even "follow" me here, to be sure you don't miss anything.  I welcome your respectful and honest feedback and comments.  I welcome the opportunity for mutual sharing.

From my most genuine heart, I love you.  Whoever you are, you are divine, and as much a part of the Great Cosmic Source as I.  We are all connected.  I love you as an extension of my own being.

Blessing you on this day, and for all the days to come....

emily

Valentine's, The Day His Heart Died

...Three years later.  Wow.  We've already made it three years.  Seems unbelievable.

These three years have simply been the most amazing and transformative years of my life.  Brought on by great loss and suffering, yes... but the resurrection has been positively profound, and seems to keep getting better and better!  In these three years since Dad made the great transition, I remained, and have accomplished so very much... things I had dreamed of doing my entire life!  Let's list:

- I have manifested a broad and extensive community of friends, near and far, who have gifted my life with unconditional love, and have supported my highest good

- I have found the courage to let go of people who have long hindered my growth... even family, and close loved ones... so that I may be fully authentic in my soul and self-expression

- I have manifested work which supports my talents, dreams, passions and desires, and live in a state of divine abundance, and greater prosperity than ever before

- I have become a powerful creative channel, and have met goals and manifested dreams in relation to my creative work... and have been surrounded by a vast community of other creatives who support my visions and honor my gifts

- I have reintegrated with the path of my spirit, and live a life of daily discipline, and continue to reach farther and farther, winding deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of Mysteries, with the courage to confront the shadow and the dark, that I may be liberated and lighter

- I have experienced true, pure love, whereby I spoke and acted with great integrity and clarity, and was able to experience the great power of my love, unfettered by desperation, expectation, need, jealousy, etc

- I survived critical and immeasurable physical pain and trauma when my spine broke, and I healed, and took from the experience many gifts ~ including the realization of the blessed family of friends who supported me through the ordeal, and the reunion and gift of my mother's love

- I finally found my home here in the North.  No longer feeling the desire to flee or escape, I am grateful and content in my dwelling, with my pets and possessions, and the wonderful life I lead here

- I am more independent, self-sufficient, self-determined, liberated, strong, courageous, passionate, spiritual, loving, compassionate and peaceful than I've ever been in my life

I mean, wow!  That's quite the list!

Reflecting on these years since Dad's passing in this way, I don't feel sad.  I mean, I can get teary-eyed thinking of him any day, for I do love and miss him so.  But, on this Day of Love, three years later, the utter emptiness I had felt then ~ an emptiness unlike any I had ever known before, or since ~ that emptiness has been filled, and overflows.

It is the anniversary of the greatest loss of my life... and also, a bit of a bitter reminder that I've had no romantic love in my life in all this time (at least, not any that was reciprocated to me).

Yet, there is great comfort in all kinds of love on this day.  Rather than mourn my father's death, I can celebrate my love for him, and his love for me.

Rather than feel lonely not to have a beloved to celebrate with, I can lavish the love onto myself that I would onto my most cherished ~ or even better: to imagine there is, indeed, a beloved out there for me, and that I can spoil myself as he most yearns to do.

I celebrate the deep love and connections I share with so many friends in so many places.

I take comfort in the Universal Love of Great Spirit, and feel the Mother's arms enfold me, and the Father's grace upon my soul.

I am blessed.  I am grateful.  I am joyful, and at peace.

May this Valentine's Day be a prayer for love all over the planet.

I offer my heart to you all.

Emily

Looking Back at 2011 (journal entry)

New Year's Eve... here we are!  Wow!

It's really amazing to see this year come to an end.  It was so incredibly dynamic, so full, so... memorable.

My show!!!  I mean, really, that was THE highlight of the my 2011!  Over a decade, I spent dreaming of that exact birthday show.  It was in my favorite venue.  It had all the elements - the band, the set, the dancers, the choir, costumes, lights, video, photos, body painters, belly dancers... WOW!  Tears in my eyes just thinking of it!  Such a great reminder that everything happens at just the right time, in just the right way.  Throughout the ten years of dreaming of this show, I don't think there was ever a time before when I had all the elements - the music, the performers, the resources, the support - until this year.  So many moments of panic in the past that I'd never make it happen... but I did.  Exactly when it was truly time.  I learned so much from that entire process, and grew as an artist, producer, and business woman.  But as I look back right now, timing is the big lesson standing out in my brain.  For all the other dreams and desires of my life, I needn't worry.  They are all on their way, in their own perfect time.  All I need to do is precisely what I'm already doing: being the best me I can be, each and every day.  Never losing faith.

What a gift that I was able to travel to my Mexican home twice this year, and am realizing how much I expanded my community of friends there!  I hadn't really thought about in until now, but it's quite true... it's the first time in years and years that I put myself out there, all on my own (no husband, or boyfriend, or tour-guiding other friends or family members), and found several new circles of friends: hanging out with the Farias kids (now grown!), Cesar and his crew, Jaime and Elio and the Argentinians, the Italian posse, the djs, the photographers.  My world expanded there - from the old school friends that built that town with me, to this next generation who have exploded the scene, and welcomed me into it.  Playa has always been intended as a home for me.  I believe it divinely ordered so.  I am ever requested by friends, old and new, to come down soon for a visit.  I am ever accepted, enjoyed, loved and missed.  Sometimes, I feel like if and when I ever do move back, the town is so big and advanced now, that I wouldn't find my place.  But it's not true.  I always have a place there.  I am always lovingly welcomed.  I am surrounded by friends and family who light up when they see me.  My joy and inspiration, my heart, all come alive there.  My soul's roots are in Playa del Carmen.  This expanded reality was a huge gift this year.

I fell in love this year.  I fell in love for the first time in at least half a decade... but this love was entirely different from any that came before.  I was entirely different.  I came into this love more whole, as a person, than I had ever been in my life.  I was independent, self-sufficient, and truly happy to be on my own and thriving - not looking for anyone or anything outside to "complete" me.  So, I was able to love mor purely and beautifully and gracefully than ever before.  I didn't project needs or expectations.  I didn't pressure.  True, I had many hopes and desires, but only because the man I loved was the most worthy I had ever known.

Heartbreaking, then, that it wasn't meant to be.  Brings tears to my eyes even now, almost 3 months after the fact.  In this time, I have come to see more work and mending needed yet, on myself, in my core, and realize that until the work is done, this love nor any other can be mine.  I'm so close... and the love that I discovered in me this year was a true gift, and a reminder that even greater love awaits me... just as my other dreams and desires... all on their way, in their own perfect time.

I reunited with my family, after several years of separation.  We suffered great losses in these last years, and 2011 was another devastating blow.  Two of the kindest, most gentle-hearted men of our family closed their eyes forever.  We've lost so much strong, beautiful, kind, gentle male presence in our family... we women are really gonna have to step it up, and get our shit straight, and endeavor to better ourselves in their honor!  But I digress.... While it was painfully difficult to reunite under such sad circumstances, I am full-heartedly grateful that by the end of the year, I was able to come together with both sides of my family in merriment, joy and love.  We are a strong-willed, intelligent, determined bunch, which can cause friction and separation, especially for those who remain stuck in their beliefs, judgments, and opinions.  But we are also sensitive, loving, passionate and creative, and I was so happy to experience some of those shining qualities with my family this year.  Reminded me of the good stuff in all of them, and in myself, as well.  

Musically, it was a phenomenal year!  Aside from my show, it was one of the most prolific songwriting years I remember... maybe in a decade!  I was blessed to have so many talented producers, writers, djs and musicians offer their music to me, and I was so inspired!  New favorites poured out of me, and my repertoire is now enhanced by new styles and genres, and uplifting lyrical content.  I had opportunities to perform with new people, to make music videos, to have multiple amazing photo shoots!  Even my choir has transitioned, and has become its own powerhouse of musical sensation and delight.  I have been sought for my expertise and ability.  I have been recognized and honored.  I am daily encouraged with messages inquiring about my next project, or show, or when the cd will be coming out.  Though I still get frustrated not to be farther along on this path than I feel I should be, I see that I truly have some into my own as a vocalist, writer, producer, director and teacher.  I have nothing to fear.  It's happening, it's already here, unfolding one layer at a time.

The other great feat of 2011 for me, was that I was confronted once again with my dark side, and depression.  Due to heartbreak, family pains old and new, and the loss of my job, the dark road beckoned me.  I danced morbidly back and forth for some weeks between the crossroads and the path of broken glass.  One day in particular, almost out of body, overwhelmed with pain, I met and confronted this great challenge - but not alone.  With the help from some very special friends and the support of an amazing community, I accepted help.  I did not succumb to the callings of the dark mistress... and all my little inner demons... I chose, instead, to breathe.  Isn't that amazing?  To say "breathing saved my life" seems... well, what would the word be?  Ludicrous?  Obvious?  But it did, it has.  I saved my life by taking support when it was offered, and remained open enough to accept new (however uncomfortable) opportunities.  It was a test.  A test I presented myself.  And I passed.  And now, I'm on the upwards turn of the wheel again.  And proud of myself, and grateful to all those surrounding me with love.

Wow!  2011 was certainly a dynamic and amazing year, and full of growth in each and every way.  A huge success.  I am really pleased...

And so tonight, what a blessing that I get to celebrate both this incredible year that has passed, and te new 2012 coming in, singing on stage, with beloved friends!  I feel prepared and excited... it should be a blast!

At this time, I have no clear vision of 2012, and what I may choose to manifest.  I'm okay with that.  Ideas float around about projects and music and travel and love... but I'm not attached to any of it.  All I want right now, is to work on my health and my body, to continue on my spiritual journey, to accept this prosperity and keep working hard, to be open to new people and places and opportunities, and to live each day with a grateful heart.  The rest will come.  It's already on its way.  

Thank you 2011... and welcome 2012....

Emily

They Come Back

It's not that I don't appreciate the messages, calls, texts, chats.
I'm sure what lies in them is more than the obvious:
your loneliness, coupled with a renewed heat
for what I had given so freely
a year ago, or more.
Your own heartbreak, seeking out
the shared pain
the anguish
the camaraderie of my own broken soul.

I'm sure, buried deep in the invitations
the checking ins
the positive affirmations for each new day,
there is an aim towards genuine friendship,
a desire to shoulder this long season ahead with
warmth
of bourbon and wine
fire
the poetry we effortlessly coo to one another
as if we were, ourselves, the love letters between such greats
as Kahlil and Mary, who lived their entire lives
wrapped in the blanket of language, love lost
forever
from them both.

Your efforts are not unnoticed, my dear.
The lines you cast into my crashing waves
return to you empty,
without the meat and meal you hunger for most.
I see the hook and bait you choose
ever so carefully, cautiously...
but even the most delectable temptations
are wasted
on a woman who will not feed.

It is not your fault, tender lover,
when rage boils over in my heart
liquid fire in every organ
bearing the banner which reads
"They always come back."
It is only a preoccupation in my mind.
The anger, the reeling that
for as easy as it was to cast me once into the turbulent seas,
always, and each time, they all come back to me.


They come back, pecking vultures,
dope fiends needing a fix of
my sex, my gracious heart,
to wear me on their arm
or chain me to the bed until
(as it always has gone, and, what reason
is left for me to believe it would ever be otherwise?)
they find, once again, someone
some thing
that mystical element which I seem not to possess
not for anyone,
but that will always entreat and entice them
away again,
as I lay bound in shackles
sinking to the ocean floor.

I know you mean not to watch me drown.
I know, at this time, in your heart
you are most certain and determined to
carry me from the water, to
place me on the gentle earth, to
breathe what life has been lost to me
back into my lungs, to
see me open my eyes, unveiled with skepticism and defeat,
that I might "see" you. That I might smile at the sight.

This is what they always want when they come back.

For you, o bereft pirate,
I say this:
your ship came and went.
You know this already.
In my current fury, I would warn you
not to be drawn to this siren's song...
you know the myth, and may end up, yourself
at the bottom of the sea...

but rest quietly at your prow,
and gently stroke the black waters of my heart's discontent
with no hope or expectation.
You may linger there, and
hum along to my sad love songs, and
peer into the shallows beneath the water's surface, and
maybe
just maybe
at the very least...

I might one day smile.

There Are No Obstacles, Only Options

I wrote that line today to my beloved who recently took his leave from my life.

I am thinking of how many times in recent weeks, I heard that from him, "There are too many obstacles." For him, this meant that we live thousands of miles apart. It meant that our lifestyles and work may be incompatible (however complimentary I believed them to be). And ultimately, that he wasn't feeling the strong desire to try to make a romantic partnership with me... because there were just too many obstacles.

In the six months since we were first introduced online (which, I guess, could be seen as an obstacle in and of itself), we spent long hours, days, weeks and months in conversation. I found him to be a very wise man, with beautiful philosophies (borrowed and his own) about life and love. A very positive person. A grateful heart, who embraced life, capturing its beauty with his unique talent as a photographer... his singular eye which seized such precious moments, to be admired and enjoyed by us all.

I remember when he first came to visit me three months ago, and we poured through slideshows of his work. My first impression was, "Wow - these are really beautiful!" As more and more kept passing on the screen, I thought, "How amazing to witness even ONE of these instances, let alone the hundreds and thousands he had!" Finally, it came to me, "What a blessed person he must be, how spiritually rich, to be God's eye, marveling in the glorious splendor the Creator has given us (which most of us fail to even recognize)." My impression of this man was that he was most definitely in the flow of life, supported by the universe, open to beauty and love and the positive energy of our world.

My heart and soul recognized him, then, as a kindred spirit, for although I had spent a long part of my life in pain and suffering, I had worked very hard in recent years to transcend my very own obstacles of mind and thought... and had finally landed on my true path, also in the flow of life, supported by the universe, living each day to its fullest, being of service to my community, tending to the work which is mine alone, dutifully and joyfully. For me, as we were exploring this new friendship, this new deep connection, this potential partnership, I saw no obstacles. I saw, instead, infinite potential.

I chose him. I chose to open my heart to him. I chose to trust again, despite the cruel betrayals I had suffered relentlessly in the past. But I chose differently this time. The choice would not be to abandon myself, my work, my life as it was for the love of this man... No! Far from it! My choice was to be open to him, to love purely with no demands, to allow our selves to be just as we are, and trust that everything will pan out exactly as it should.

If love is a bridge between two people, I had always walked over that bridge in the past, to the other side, to meet my love where he was at and join him on his journey. This time, I was clear: I would be willing to walk halfway up that bridge, and if he was willing to meet me there, together we could surmount any obstacles - time, distance, the logistics of life. There were no barriers in my heart or mind. Life is a myriad of possibility, and every option was open to us.

So, when he came for this long-awaited visit, and we reunited once more, I told him as much the very morning of his arrival. Although I was still not 100% about this romantic pairing, so far it had been 100% wonderful, and I was grateful to have this time with him, to open ourselves to the other, to continue the exploration, being present with one another as we did so.

Throughout the first week of his stay, I felt the walls around his heart, which hadn't been there when last we were together. I felt my own walls go up in response to it, and spoke to him about it, as we always felt comfortable to communicate all our thoughts and feelings. He agreed and admitted that his walls were up. "I just see too many obstacles," he said again and again. He didn't want a long-distance relationship, though I had never asked for one. He felt we were on the same path, but that I was on a speed train, while he was on a bicycle, though I had asked for no kind of declaration or commitment. I reiterated, my only expectation was that we would be open, relinquish our fears, and enjoy this time for what it was.

A week into the visit, he announced that he "just wasn't feeling it." He had no explanation. Despite our mutual connection, our passion, our admiration for each other and each other's work, our exquisite communication, our shared desires for life and love... He could only say that he wasn't feeling that magical elixir that would make him want to dedicate himself to me exclusively. Again, I hadn't asked that from him, but he felt it was my true desire... which, for him, was yet another obstacle.

What could I do? Nothing. I couldn't convince him to change his mind, and to be open again, and I was clear with myself that I wouldn't want to coerce someone into loving me. I instantly felt the loss of all the potential, as well as for our short-term plans... for me to come spend three weeks with him in his home, seeing his life, exploring more there. Ancient fears crept up in me as well: that old karmic pattern of being so loved and admired, but put aside time and time again. With so much beautiful potential between us, how could he cast it all aside?

Because he saw only obstacles.

The following week of his stay was a roller-coaster of emotions. I had been there before. Desperately trying to make sense of the illogical. Knowing that I was now at a familiar crossroads. In the past, I had followed the path which spiralled down into the deepest, darkest, scariest forest of my inner world. There, I had languished. I had deprived myself of food, and sleep. I had neglected the life above and around me, and my responsibilities, only making the climb out more treacherous and difficult and laborious. I had chosen the path of obstacles, and collected more and more of them on those dark journeys, from which it had taken years to truly heal and step back into the light of my life.

This time, standing at the crossroads, I looked down that shady road that called to me. I knew the way so well. There were familiar ghosts and demons in the underbrush that sang the haunting melodies of my deepest pain. They wanted me. They were hungry, and I had always offered myself as an abundant feast. My heart, which had been beating itself against my brittle ribs, desperately trying to escape the prison of my breast, pulled me towards them. If she couldn't leap from my body on her own, she would be most happy to be devoured once again.

But my mind said, "no." It was only a small voice in my mind. And I knew, I could not feel my way through it this time. I couldn't indulge my heart and consciously plummet into the abyss of misery. My mind said it again, "No!" I drew the attention away from the physical pain - the nausea of heartbreak in my belly, the headaches, the sleeplessness and fatigue. "NO! I SAID NO, GOD DAMN IT!" I liked this voice. I looked down the other path from where I stood, and above the demands of my mind, heard the most beautiful melodies, heard my father's voice, heard an eagle's wings flapping.

I saw there are only options. Choices. It would be my choice to rise, or my choice to fall.

I had been disappointed that the man I loved, whom I saw as someone so evolved and enlightened, had in truth been so very limited. Because of his past, because of his fears, because of his addictions, the obstacles he saw between us had barred him from giving and receiving pure love. He had blockaded himself from sharing and exploring with a woman so deliciously open, liberated, self-fulfilled, and full of light and joy. He cemented his feet from climbing up the bridge to meet me halfway, and explore the realm of possibility together, as equals. He came to me with walls already around his heart, and had said that I mustn't have had the right key to open that door. I think he changed the locks.

I see only options. No obstacles. The path I have turned towards is the path of my true spirit. I am met with sunlight. There is music all around me. My father kisses my head now that I finally lay my head down to rest, and put the spoon to my mouth to feed. Eagle circles above me, and all my angels are dancing and clapping.

We will always be presented with spiritual trials in life. It will never end. But this time, I choose wisely. I choose me. I choose life. I choose to celebrate this love, even when it is met with resistance. I just don't see that as an obstacle...

I see it as a testament.

I will not feed into my ancient fears. I will not let those old barriers creep back in. I will have faith that there will come a day when a beloved will appear to walk up that bridge and meet me where I'm at.

And he, whomever he is, will be one lucky son of a bitch.

Counting

The last time he left on a plane to head back home,
I felt my heart rip from my breast and leap into the sky,
attached itself to the wing of his ride,
and to him.
My heart, grown woman as she is,
chose to love
chose to wait
chose to be patient
chose to be true.

I counted down months, then weeks, days and hours
until his return.
Now, I’m already counting hours since he’s left...
Currently, we’re at 3 hours and 39 minutes into this healing.
But unlike last time, there are no tears
no banshee screams
or death cries
because this time my mind, grown woman as she is,
is choosing to love
and choosing to let go.

This time, there is no question
no wondering
if we’ll keep talking long distance,
if he has feelings for me,
if we’ll ever see each other again...
The decision has already been made,
because he is a grown man
and told me so.

No. The answer would be no.

3 hours and 44 minutes in.
I wonder how long I’ll be counting.

“Its just a matter of acceptance,” I told him at dinner last night,
for I will never understand why.
He will not bother himself to find a reason.
“It just is what it is,” he had said, “Just what I feel.”

I’ve been here before.
Too many times, really.

But all those thens resulted in my tearing my life and body and mind apart...
Desperate to understand the illogical:

For months, almost daily conversation expressing the mutual connection neither of us had experienced in years.
The admiration for each other’s work.
The shared goals and dreams for partnership, family and life.
The intense and passionate physical connection.
The ease and openness and comfort with which we communicate.
The humor and joy abundant between us.

Active planning for travel, creative work, taking it slowly as it comes
with no pressure
or demands
or timelines to decide.
It was just open. We were exploring. We were enjoying.

“You say you’re just not feeling it?” I asked with furrowed brows, “Just not feeling what?”

“The magic isn’t there. I think you are so amazing and beautiful and sexy and talented... but I have to listen to my heart, and I don’t feel the drive to dedicate myself to you.”

Huh?

“Um, but I didn’t ask for your dedication... I didn’t ask for anything other than that we both enjoy this openness, honor this connection, savor our time together, no matter what the outcome.”

Well, this is the outcome.

I will never make sense of it.
I will go mad the longer I try to.
I have been here before, too, too many times.

3 hours and 58 minutes down.
He’s halfway home.

Acceptance is the only answer for me, now, on my own again.
The plaguing questions must be kicked to the curb by the single thought:
“You will never understand. It does not make sense. He has made his choice.”

And my choice?
To smash every clock in this empty home
and never count another second again.

Tears Again... Fears Again...

I just get worried sometimes that it’s going to be such a lonely life for me.

Not lonely as in “alone,” because I can’t imagine not being utterly surrounded by friends and family, and even the strangers I meet each day usually connect with me on some level or another.

But lonely.

Lonely for me is having a host of invitations for the holiday weekend, but in choosing to rest at home, there is no one else here to kiss my hand absent-mindedly as we waste the day watching Netflix in bed.

Lonely is making the big plans and dreams for my life, and not having that one person along on the journey, watching the progress as well as the setbacks, loving me through it all.

Lonely is preparing a meal full of love and flavor, pouring a glass of wine, and sitting on the floor to eat at the coffee table, that I might at least sit with my dog and share with him the food leftover from never learning how to cook for one instead of two.

Lonely is this tear that just fell from my eye to my wrist.

I admonish my own self-pity. My blessings are too great, my luck improving, abundance increasing. I feel I have no right to complain... and what good will it do anyway? Reality is: I have crafted this life all on my own. I have made the choices. I reap the rewards, which never come without some sacrifice.... but love? Partnership?

Tears again... Fears again... Is it simply not possible that I could be so loved, even as I am so free?

My experience says “no.” In the past, to have the love, each time and in different ways, I was forced to relinquish that freedom. I sacrificed my music, my choices, my ideas, my dreams. Of course, it could never work thusly, and it never did. So I have learned from those experiences that, above all, I must remain true to myself and my path. I like my self, and my path. I am generally overflowing with pure joy, passion for my work, gratitude for all that has been bestowed upon me. Blissed and blessed, I always say. And after my divorce, I have resolved that to welcome love into my life again, it must be a love that wants and accepts me exactly as I am today.

Tears again... Fears again... Does that love exist for me?

I was encouraged as of late that indeed, it just may! Opened myself to love, in the right way, the smart and healthy way, and stayed on course with who I am, and where I’m at and where I’m headed. Loving purely, with integrity, thick with kindness and care, and benevolent freedom, just as it should be.

Yet, today I feel overlooked, or swept aside maybe, because of current circumstances in part, but also because of who I am and what I do. He called me a “gypsy,” and in his voice the connotation suggested I am too wild, too free, unable to settle down or grow up or whichever direction you’re supposed to go to be deemed worthy of love.

Is there a direction for love? Were they handing out road maps that I missed?

Of course, all of these qualities I inherently possess are the very ones I hear men express desire most for in a woman: fidelity, honesty, good communicator, loving, passionate, affectionate, intelligent, talented, beautiful, self-sufficient, socially graceful. I am not jealous or controlling. I like alone time, and grant it as well. I’m good with kids, and parents. I am optimistic and upbeat. I have a great laugh....

I don’t think it’s so easy to find a woman with so much to offer.

Tears again.... Fears again... Is there another quality inherent to my nature that makes me UN-qualifiable?

I’ve asked. I’ve gotten answers. None of them the same, but all leading back to the same point, which is that:

I cannot have love without being true to myself... and yet, so far, by being true to myself, I have not had that love.

So, as I suck up snot and wipe the mascara-caked tear streaks from my cheeks, I feel my skin stiffening, my armor thickening, my blood cooling. It’s been easier getting by under the facade of superhuman power-woman who is self-possessed and a goddess to all, rather than the vulnerable little girl who cries for impossible love, and just really REALLY wishes her daddy were here to hug her and remind her that to him, she was the most amazing thing in the world.

So, I have to remind myself:

I am amazing. And I’m working hard to be more amazing each and every day. Someday, someone might just come along and figure that out, and be giving thanks for the blessing of me in his life.

And if not, well, it’s still an amazing life. No matter how lonely it sometimes feels.

And I give thanks for the blessing of me in my life.

And even if that love never finds me, I am love. I have so very much to give.

No tears now, no fears. No what-if’s about what may or may not be. Reeling it in, back to the present moment where all my needs are met, and a beloved friend just sent a random note of kindness, and dog and cat have both invited themselves to my bed to whisk my tears away and lend me their physical support.

But I thank you for listening, and for loving.

I love you.

We All Have Our Choices

I had planned it before he even came.

Unearthed the key I had long buried in my most secret place,
warmed it in my hand, waiting.

I was in ritual, preparing for the giving of this gift.
Smudging walls in copal, dressing the scene in orchids and light,
making prayer without even realizing it.

Naivety has always been my crux.

Upon his scent, which paired well with my own pheremonal elixir,
I loosened my grip, careful not to let his eyes catch sight
of the dirtied brass I gently polished between my fingertips.

He took my feet in his hands. This was the way he touched me first.
I slid the teeth of the key into the mouth of the lock,
poised for the turning.

Confirmation came in the kiss. I had chosen wisely.
Head and eyes rolled back, tongues merging, spirit exhaled through my body,
through my crown chakra and out the soles of my feet.
Love's green cords dropped into the earth, anchoring me on his breath.
Under the din of my smile, I heard the lock unhasp its clasp.

The tsunami rolled in from the deepest sea within me,
swelled in every cell,
broke its waves against my skin,
laid waste to bone and vessel, sinew and muscle.

This rapture ensued.

As he entered me, I flowed out and spread wide and vast as the ocean.
From the depths of my primordial waters
came entities that had never before seen the light.
He reached for his camera to capture the sight.

Brilliantly colored, dancing, singing, they made their way to the surface,
drinking oxygen through my pores,
radiating and glowing behind my eyes.

They whispered their names in ancient tongues, but
said I could just call them "Love."

I welcomed Love, then, just as I did him.
It was my choice to open in this way
and at this time.
It was my prerogative to let minutes fall into hours of nails on his back.
It was my directive to angle my hips just so, that he might touchdown on the ocean floor.
It was my aim to wrap around his flesh as tightly as his corkscrew curls wrapped round my digits.
It was my call to fall.

It was his to improvise.

"Love just IS," he had wanted me to believe,
but Love is also a choice,
and we all have our choices.

I chose him before he even came.

I opened that floodgate.

And now that he is gone,
and there is no certainty he will ever return,
and the waters have receded,
exposing the desolate void of loss and pain,

I will live with my choices.

I, alone, will own this Love.

The United Nations of Love (abbreviated version)

*in re-reading the following extended version of this blog, I found I liked to take the first and last phrases of each lover's verse, and so made an abbreviated poem out of it*



I welcomed Egypt to the ranks last night... and it was a peaceful night’s sleep, cradled in the arms of the Pharaoh’s grandson.

I once stood at the border of Egypt, in the town of Eilat, at the southern tip of Israel... we never made it across that border - into Egypt, nor into happily ever after.

Mongolia came as a surprise... I can’t say I helped to solve any of their internal crises, but did seem to revive the Motherland Party in a new and most progressive fashion.

Argentina called on me to instruct two of their finest... their tears have me adopting “Don’t Cy For Me Argentina” as a personal anthem.

Italy, ahhh, Italy.... Mt Vesuvius erupted thrice.

I will say this about Mexicans:... they just love to fuck.

The British men I have served proved to be very enthusiastic and adept lovers... and truth be told, I’m still a sucker for accents.

Columbia offered me an interesting proposition:... white light magic always works better than white powder.

Mmm... that reminds me of the Native American I encountered in my youth... I shall take up singing the chakra meditation of the Cherokee people, and endeavor to return to the tribes one day with better news of justice and peace.

Does a French Canadian count?... “Je vous envoie mon amour, mon ami, et j’espere que nous reverrons dans cette vie, ou dans l’autre...”

There were some Pacific islanders I tended to long ago... I learned some valuable lessons about international trading.

And now I look forward to the Tican arriving three weeks from today... and when it’s time to go... it’s time to go.

The United Nations of Love

Upon awakening in a strange and luxurious bed this morning, the thought came to me:

I am the United Nations of Love.

I hold session under the sheets.

I am the goodwill ambassador to the beautiful lovers of our world, and feel honored to be so welcomed and appreciated by such passionate people of foreign lands, near and far.

I welcomed Egypt to the ranks last night. The revolution came to a standstill as we negotiated new terms for a better future. We sealed the deal with a kiss, and it was a peaceful night's sleep, cradled in the arms of the Pharaoh's grandson.

I once stood at the border of Egypt, in the town of Eilat at the southern tip of Israel. Like so many other diplomats and presidents before me, I spent years in peace talks with the Israeli, used all my womanly prowess and persuasion to convince him to lay down his anger and fear, and cross the frontier into a new life of pure freedom and love. But a people's history of pain and persecution is not so easily swept away, even when exquisite thighs are offered up as pillows to rest the head of its worries and tumultuous past. We never made it across that border - into Egypt, nor into happily ever after.

Mongolia came as a surprise... I hadn't thought my skills and talents would be needed in such a land. As it turns out, they have a rich history of circus performers - arguably, the best in the world. With my gypsy background, I was intrigued and also ready to learn the fine art of body balancing, which I think I pulled off quite well, considering we only had one night for instruction and execution. I can't say I helped to solve any of their internal crises, but did seem to revive the Motherland Party in a new and most progressive fashion.

Argentina called on me to instruct two of their finest in the art of loverhood. I will admit, I had a minor hesitation due to the large age gap between us (you know how young men can become so easily enamored by the sheer dexterity and finesse an older woman has to offer)... but who was I to refuse a call from the likes of Eva Peron? (We share the same shoe size after all.) I tried my best to do nothing less than blow their fledgling minds, and quickly took leave, lest their tears have me adopting "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina" as a personal anthem.

Italy, ahhh Italy. I can't say it was one of my proudest accomplishments, as the Latin lothario stole from the bed of his bride-to-be to hasten to me. I was impressed, however, by his research... It seemed he had spent quite some time gathering news and information of my conquests, and his sheer curiosity and anticipation had simply overwhelmed him. He confessed he could not devote his life to his soon-to-be wife until he had paid homage to an Aphrodite. (Somewhat delusional,mayhaps, but definitely stroked my ego in all the right ways). We had a lovely tour of the countryside and other corporeal landscapes.... and Mt. Vesuvius erupted thrice.

I will say this about Mexicans: they should not be generalized, nor ever deemed inadequate. They are an amazing people, hard workers - dedicated to getting the job done. And quite different from one to the next. Aztec, Mayan, and even of Spanish descent. It's been quite the cultural exploration, and I am pleased to see how they truly pay just honor to their forebearers, despite being converted and conquered over time. I'll suffice to say, I completely understand how they have become known as such a breeding bunch... although it has little to do at all with the Pope or the Church. They just love to fuck.

The British men I have served proved to be very enthusiastic and adept lovers. Unfortunately, and I do feel awful to say it, but in giving a true account from my experiences abroad... it seems that even in this day and age, they do still struggle with hygiene. Likely, as my role dictates, I should have helped them to draft a new policy on this issue, but it just felt awkward... and truth be told, I'm still a sucker for accents.

Columbia offered me an interesting proposition: two brothers (not related by blood) whom I knew even as a young woman, before my career began. One was my first kiss, the other my arch nemesis. Yet, I tended to them both, at very different times in life. I am happy to say that I have always strictly forbidden the use of narcotics in my boudoir (or anywhere else in my sphere, for that matter), and tried in both cases to provide a more healthy and loving influence in their lives. In the end, my tactics proved successful, and I have every confidence that both brothers knew they held very special (and entirely unique) places in my heart. White light magic always works better than white powder.

Mmm... that reminds of the Native American I encountered in my youth. Cherokee. I was a mere 16 years old, and we shared a most spiritual and tantric evening in the spring rains of Texas. I dare say he was one of my first sexual shaman teachers, for I remember experiencing many "firsts" that evening. He told me he was able to see me as an old woman, and that I remained ever beautiful. (I have been clinging to that sentiment ever since.) When he walked me back to my gypsy wagon, in the rain, he bent on his knees, placed his head to my belly, and told me that he loved me - and I knew exactly what he meant. In that moment, that perfect night, we shared pure love, with no hope or expectation of the future. How I wish I might have done more to offer his people the dignity and respect he so lavished on me. Indeed... my work there remains unfinished. I shall take up singing the chakra meditation of the Cherokee people, and endeavor to return the tribes one day with better news of justice and peace.

Does a French Canadian count? They seem to be doing all right. At the very least, I was a brilliant light in the life of the Quebecois for three years. Or maybe a reflection of his crystalline meditations for love and life and spirit. He phoned the other day to say he is unwell and his lungs are ailing. Maybe what Montreal needs most is my soft cooing in their romance language.... "Je vous envoie mon amour, mon ami, et j'espere que nous reverrons dans cette vie, ou dans l'autre..."

There were some Pacific islanders I tended to long ago, Phillippino, if memory serves. They had lost their course and found themselves stranded in this tundra land. Feeling trapped myself at that time, I tried to barter a lift to Borneo. In exchange, I unfolded myself and spread like the sea beneath them. They rode my undulating waves all the way to their home... but forgot to fold me back up and stick me in the boat. Not very decent of them, but still, I learned some valuable lessons about international trading.

And now I look forward to the Tican arriving three weeks from today. I lived in Costa Rica for half a year, and remember the steaming heat of the jungle, and the savage wilderness. I remember the Pacific Ocean... beautiful, sensual, and inviting, yet all the while ready to smash you to the rocks should you not pay attention and heed its warnings. I know not what to expect from this summit, but imagine the best plan of action would be to enjoy it now as I did then: give myself completely to the experience, open myself to love, soak up the heat, the wetness, the wildness, the adventure for all it's worth... and when it's time to go... it's time to go.

I am the United Nations of Love. I am the melting pot. I am the swirling whirling Dervish twirling of sex and lust and connection and pure energy exchange... but this is no democracy any more than it is a dictatorship. There are no votes, or laws, or rules in love, other than this:

Be free. Be genuine. Speak your truth. Live life fully. Expect nothing. Give wholly. Enjoy the moment. Cherish the memory.

Personally, I wouldn't trade this job for anything in the world.

Hello Lover...

May 15th and the Sun is finally shining...

I have been struggling (along with my fellow countrymen and women of the north) for weeks now, as our Spring has jilted us all, like an unwanted lover thrown aside into an abyss of gray skies and frigid air. Impossible to feel motivated or inspired, despite a rich life thick with creative work. When you awaken day after day for endless months to darkness and cold, the only real inspiration is to pass the time in bed and under covers - which is not nearly as much fun alone as it might be with a naked beloved lying next to me. Alas, such as has not been the case, and all these hours wasted in indulgent protest to the climate have resulted in a heavy weight of unfinished work and an increasingly lengthy to-do list.

But at long last, my dearest lover, the Sun, has come scratching on my doors and windows once again, teasing and tempting me with his light, and warm caresses. And like a scorned woman who pines and pines for the one who cruelly cast her aside, I leap at this offering, and into his arm-like rays. I am renewed, refreshed, alive again. I bask in his glory, even knowing that tomorrow he may leave me again...

But I will take him today, and any day he comes. I am betrothed to this solar orb for all of eternity. I am a glutton for his flame, would swallow his flares and let my innards burn just to feel his radiance pour through me.

I, too, am made of fire. Hand in hand with the one I love, it's finally time to shine.

Bleeding Hearts (A Valentine's Day Memorial)

I think the tricky thing about Valentine's Day from here on out will be the lonely suffering. Well, I guess most of my trying times are endured alone, but on a day when everyone is happy and celebrating, one certainly doesn't wish to be the wet blanket on the Love Parade.

Why does this day have to be so hard anyway? 364 other days in the year that he is also gone, and never coming back. What does it matter that it was this day he left forever? I don't understand that. It's like the echo of grief, of the death howls from that day two years ago that resound through time and space and catch up with me, making me feel what, on most days, I am able to acknowledge but flee from rather quickly. No such luck today. No such luck last year either, even though I had intentionally tried to escape by vacationing in Mexico with a throng of friends. But it hit me there, too. There is no escape. Valentine's Day is, and will always be, the day my Dad died.

It was such a fucking horrible day, and the weeks and months that followed... ugh. I think that hurts more than plain old missing him. I don't like to remember the whole sequence of events. I loathe thinking of what transpired almost immediately after he passed. Such ugliness, still unresolved, and may also forever remain that way. He left, and with him went life as we knew it. Forever changed by his absence, as well as by the crimes committed against each other. We will never be the same.

Not that "being the same" is all it's cracked up to be anyway. I am far from the same person I was when he was alive. You imagine these things when someone dies: "What will it be like a year from now? Two years? Five?" I never would have imagined, or dreamed it even possible, that two years later I would be able to say "I'm happier than I've ever been." And yet, I am. Most truly. My mind spins thinking of all the sadness and loss and pain and struggle of these last two years... so then, to have been even more blessed, that I am able to feel such joy and gratitude... how else could that have happened without such a grand angel watching over me?

Angel, that makes me laugh. I picture him with some faerie wings strapped to him, like a costume I would have begged him to try on, with that look of pained disgust mixed with a hidden smile at my delight and laughter. I remember that look. I keep all his looks close at hand, or in mind, as it were. The crinkles in his neck. The twinkle in his eye. And his smell is still sealed up in that bag I haven't emptied yet in these two years. His bag from the trip. What he had packed for that weekend, all of it still there. I open it from time to time, thumbing through, bending my head low to inhale deeeep.... yep. I'd know that smell anywhere.

It does, indeed, feel like the echo of that day and time two years ago. I can't listen to any music today. The silence is thick. I am not hungry, but finally forced myself to eat. I want to curl up into bed, and shut the world out for the whole day and night, and possibly into next week... but there is business to tend to, and so I'm paying bills and jotting down my to-do's for the week, just as I did then. I don't feel that I avoid my grief so much. I allow it into my days when it comes requesting my audience. I cry. I talk about him. I talk to him. Shake my fist at the sky and tell him, "You're in big trouble when I see you again," half-joking, half-sincere.

He knows better. He knows me. He knows my bark is bigger than my bite. He knows that my skin is much thinner than I let on. He knows my popcorn goes in the special bowl. He knows I am never running from the problems, but running towards the solution. He knows that under my sharp words lies a very good heart. He knows sometimes I just need someone else to bear my weight.

There were things he knew about me that I didn't know myself. Though I can't ask him to tell me, he finds a way. I have come to learn and understand many things about myself since he's been gone. Things he had even told me once, but I didn't see it then. Resented him thinking he knew me better than I knew myself. But he did. He saw in me a better person than I ever saw. He had faith in my abilities and talents. Courageous, strong, fearless... I heard him describe me in these terms many times, and I thought he must have been drunk. But he wasn't (lol... I think). He was my Dad. He made me. He inspired me. He modeled good life to me. He believed in me.

Now, when Valentine's hits, and in my solitude I am awash in the Sea of Memory, I search for land to grab onto again. As I pull myself onto shore, I am met by the blooming Bleeding Hearts he always planted in my honor.

St. Valentine's Day. The day of hearts. He died from his. And mine bleeds for him forever.

and even this poem sucks

In the midst of all the busy-ness

as life flourishes

and projects and plans march onward, resolutely,

and people reach out to help

to participate,

offering skills and supplies

free of charge

given with love,

and others call just to check in

making sure I am well

and drinking tea,

and everything in the world is going my way

my mother is nursing a dying husband

my aunt will have to sell her home

my grandfathers are both unwell

and the anniversary of dad's death is just around the corner

an eternal blight on the day of love

and it's been a long time since I've had someone to hug me a bit

or kiss the top of my head

or hold my hand while I sleep

and writing songs is on my to-do list everyday

and never gets done

and even this poem sucks

exhausted

emptied out from giving my all

hurting mostly from always wearing the brave face

I would that I could cry

but it just doesn't seem right

Being Right

"You don't need to be right. You need to be smart."

Words from my ex-husband's mouth that used to drive me crazy.

Why should I stifle myself?

Why should I mask a truth that merits being known?

How can I stand by and watch someone I care about fuck his own life?

He was right, my husband, in telling me not to be right, to be smart.

The messenger often gets shot, or hung, tortured or just plain fired from the job.

It's happened to me this way many a time.

If I need to be smart, then I should start by learning from my past.

I am at the precipice of the second stage of my life.

I am a woman, fully grown, competent and on my own.

Being truthful with myself should be enough. Must be enough.

Others will either discover for themselves what they need to know,

or will suffer the hard lessons and the failures destined for them on their journey.

Everyone learns in their own time.

Some are simply not ready for sage words when they hear them.

It is not my job to save you.

That's not what I was hired for.

I have learned some things, but am still learning others:

like how to care less, or shut up,

or love wholly inside, but taper love's external expression.

I would argue this point with my husband.

I took offense at the very notion

that it might be in my own best interest to

love less?

I didn't even understand what that meant.

It means this:

To really love someone unconditionally and purely,

you may have to

bite your tongue

smile and nod

let them fall

reserve opinion even when it's pleaded for

be selfish...

...and when all that is hard to do,

keep contact to a bare minimum,

lest you risk the love, the friendship, the job

just to be right.