For an Artist

I’ve come into the office early this morning, coffee in hand, with the intention of writing most of the day. I have columns for my website that need to be written according to my own, now past, self-imposed deadline; a blog that needs attention desperately; the next chapter of my memoir; and a paper to write for a conference this August. I check the NY Times, the local paper, and favorite astrology websites seemingly for inspiration though deep down I know it’s procrastination. I check my email and find a message from my nephew, a songwriter, asking for advice about getting through writer’s block and think to myself You are asking the WRONG person at this particular moment. I’m tempted to pay the bills sitting on my desk, to write-up a clinical report, water plants that don’t need water, shop online, and reorganize my bookshelves- which also don’t need this- all in an effort not to have to sit at my computer feeling empty. Empty of observations, wisdom, poetry, or hope.

Begin where you are. This is the advice I will write in response to my nephew’s question. Write about not being able to write, and maybe- just maybe- somewhere outside of your own will, the emptiness will turn into a vessel where ideas, observations, even some wisdom will begin to take shape….

I Love You Anyway... and Always

I didn't think you looked very good
Lacking a pulled together sense of fashion
Reflecting a lack in that longed-for solidity of Self
And I loved you anyway.

The vibe was absent this past time.
The energy not-there
Reminded me that this is usually how it is with us
But I desired you all the same.

And I know I feel something, always.
Your darkness, lack, hated-fragility
Pulling for a mirror and camera which together might heal
So I long to caress you.

I wish for the healing
I want for you
I long for you to be whole

I should have said Yes to the sharing.

For My Favorite Men

Great Song by Alanis Morissette

You are the bravest man I've ever met
You unreluctant at treacherous ledge

Oh, You are the sexiest man I've ever been with
You, never hotter than with armor spent

When you do what you do to provide
How you land in the soft as you fortify

This is in praise of the vulnerable man
Why won't you lead the rest of your cavalry home

You, with your eyes mix strength with abandon
You with your new kind of heroism

And I bow and I bow down to you
To the grace that it takes to melt on through

This is in praise of the vulnerable man
Why don't you lead the rest of your cavalry home
This is a thank you for letting me in
Indeed in praise of the vulnerable man

You are the greatest man I've ever met
You the stealth setter of new precedents

And I vow and I vow to be true
And I vow and I vow not to take advantage

This is in praise of the vulnerable man
Why won't you lead the rest of your cavalry home
This is a thank you for letting me in
Indeed in praise of the vulnerable man...

The Nature of Love...

I was listening to Martina McBride's This One's for the Girls this morning. It's a simple song that has a powerful effect on me. "To love without holding back" is a huge goal of mine this days. I know that it is what I am meant to do here on earth, and in many respects, this is not difficult for me. I tend to love easily, to fall in love often, and to joy in the experience of revealing myself from within this place of love. The intensity with which I can love, though, renders me vulnerable; and this can be painful.

I'm trying to explore ways of transforming my own love nature. I have a difficult time reconciling my desire for intense, transcendent love that is nevertheless ultimately personal (which I have never experienced except in one-sided fantasy) with that of my belief that I can (and perhaps, should) love anybody and everybody-- i.e., that my love should not discriminate. I do tend to experience such discrimination though. I feel more strongly toward some than others. What makes a person feel such strong longing for any one person over another? Is such an experience real or illusory?

For now, I'm focusing on not holding back what I feel. Which doesn't mean I will act on everything feeling, just that I won't amputate the experience within me- as I've been known to do.

Thanks- and love- to Jeremy for teaching me this.

No Sour Milk

I'm usually a naturally grateful person. I feel gratitude rather spontaneously and sincerely, for everything from the pleasant UPS man to someboey else's passion that inevitably inspires me. Lately, though, I haven't been feeling very thankful. So I've been doing what Oprah and others are often touting: Keeping a gratitude journal, at least mentally. 10 things a day. Some days I have to dig deep, expressing gratitude for not drinking sour milk or catching the pig flu. My mother always tells my bitter sister to be thankful she has two arms and two legs, which is never a comfort to her. I doubt that avoiding the possibility of drinking sour milk on any given day would comfort her either, but it's helping me to feel as though I'm at least trying.

Here's my list for today: I'm grateful for...
1. My doctor, who listens to me and ensures that I know he is listening
2. Coffee
3. Song's like Coldplay's Yellow played loudly
4. Not getting a speeding ticket
5. AStrology insights
6. The fact that my doctor doesn't think my kidneys are failing
7. Jeans
8. Designer flip flops
9. Pain-free fingers
10. Good writing

La Résistance

I wrote the following for my website, under the guise of the professional I am there. So, it has a more teachy kind of tone. The truth, which anyone who can read this or listen to it being read will know, is that this is about my own now long-standing wading through resistance. I'm hoping that writing helps me to take my own advice!

Have you ever felt as though you were fighting against the current of life? Holding on to a fierce assertion that a particular part of life was wrong? Or to the notion that a specific person was just impossible? Have you ever, on some subconscious level, refused to be happy with the way things were because you believed they should be different? If so, you’ve experienced something of psychological resistance. It feels miserable if you’re in it, and it can be frustrating if someone you care about is in this place. Most individuals who go through a conscious process of awakening will run up against this. Likewise, individuals who happen to wake-up one day feeling resistant will need to initiate a conscious process of awakening in order to move beyond it.

As miserable as it can be, it is an expectable part of the process of growth.

Let’s start with a positive look at resistance. Two men who have without question changed our world in significant and positive ways are Mahatma Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., each of whom practiced civil disobedience and non-violent resistance in order to bring about the change they wished to see in the world (a well-know saying attributed to Gandhi). They led movements which spoke to the unacceptability of certain conditions within their worlds, refusing to accept these practices, discriminations, and policies. Ultimately, their movements of resistance changed the world. They give resistance a good name, so to speak.

I love this way of thinking about resistance and have to admit that all the talk within spiritual communities and new-age psychology about acceptance of what is drives me crazy. I just don’t get it- at least not the way it is often spoken about. “Accept what is. Change your perception and everything changes.” I’ve heard it over and over. And over and over I think of Gandhi and King and Milk (and recently Anne Stanback, Executive Driector of Love Makes a Family here in CT, who has led the organization to its ultimate goal of legalizing marriage for all individuals). These are people who have used some form of resistance to fight discrimination and effect change. They show us that non-acceptance of what is brings about results. Their legacy supports the importance of holding on to one’s perspective when it is saying something valuable.

Herein lies the crux of the issue, I believe. Resistance does say something valuable and it asks for understanding, clarity, and an open heart. We need to ask, with the utmost honesty, what is it that I am truly resisting? We need to get really clear about this, and to unpack all the issues that it brings up. I’m not sure that we should ever ignore this question in favor of changing perception, though it may be that answering the question honestly leads to the needed change, whether this is a matter of perception, belief, or external circumstances. Answering this question honestly is challenging, though, and this is often why resistance is so unwavering—not in the sense of a Gandhi-like commitment to change, but in the sense of being stuck within one’s life in a way that can, overtime, erode all hope. Gandhi and King are examples of hope fueling resistance, not resistance destroying hope. There is a big difference here, and the difference lies in whether we can speak with our resistance honestly and openly. When we do this, we’re bolstered by authentic, grounded hope. When we fail to do this, our inner protest of what is robs us of the same authentic hope required to effect the change we wish to see.

Why would it be difficult to look at one’s resistance honestly? I think the answer is the accountability it brings and the fears and insecurities that it unleashes. When we become clear about what’s wrong, then we’re also faced with the responsibility for making it “right.” King didn’t hang out reiterating how unfair life was. He didn’t use his energy proving who the bad guys were. And he didn’t waste time refusing to participate in life. He got to work, he took responsibility for being the change he wished to see, and I’m sure he faced quite a bit of fear and insecurity in the process. And he forged on.

Not forging on is of course an option as well; and it’s a valid one. There are many reasons why a person may choose not to effect the change they want. Maybe they are tired of psychological work; maybe they need to strengthen their inner resources first; or maybe they realize that the change they thought they wanted isn’t worth the risks they would have to take. Again, all very valid reasons for not forging on. Not effecting change is itself a decision, though, and therefore also requires responsibility and accountability. If we are choosing this decision, then we can no longer point the finger at someone else, or at circumstances, or at life more generally. Resistance is the place we find ourselves when we’re not yet willing or ready to accept accountability for our lives and the choices made therein. As a temporary stop in the journey of life, such non-acceptance helps us open our eyes and hearts not only to what seems wrong, but to the change we wish to see. As a temporary stop, it helps us to gather hope that then becomes the fuel of change. If we stay too long, however, and fail to see our resistance clearly, then that same hope disintegrates due to lack of use.

If you find yourself in this place, know that it is part of the process. Then, make a date with your resistance. Sit across from it and ask why it’s there. Then open your heart, be willing to really listen, and decide to accept accountability for moving forward- whether this means change, or not.

Failing...

85 pounds of flesh hang on the fragile skeleton, who is now not absorbing enough of the mineral that would ground and root her, perhaps afraid of something she can’t see. Perhaps not knowing how to take-in. Slowly, her strength has faded, almost gone. Muscles attack themselves, robbing her of independence and power. Challenging her when she wishes to hold up her head high. To stretch, to see far, to see over, to awaken. And the pulse of passion- debilitated as well, weakened by its organ’s breaks. It is unable to pump with the fierceness required by the harsher world, though it continues to circulate the red fluid needed to just barely keep going. Unsure of how to keep loving. The breath of life more labored, too, reminding the skeleton that living is hard. “I will keep on keeping on,” she says, even though she does not know how to do so, or why.

The Seeker

What is life about? This question plagues me, distorts me, and leaves me searching in a way that- ironically- takes me out of the life I’m seeking to fulfill. I know this, and yet I cannot just be.

Am I seeking because I am dissatisfied with my life, or am I dissatisfied because I am seeking? Many would say it’s the latter. I can concede that they might be right, and yet I don’t know what to do with that part of me that truly longs for a life I cannot have. Grieve, perhaps, is the thing to do. But for how long can a person grieve, and what allows them to turn that around?

Today I vowed to bring my best self into every encounter I have. So I smiled and was gracious to the guy at Dunkin Donuts who knows my coffee order by heart, and I decided to join in an online discussion thread rather than holding myself back. This is the stuff of life, I suppose. I’m not sure that this will ever feel satisfying to me, but it’s time to let that go. What if life weren’t about being satisfied, and instead were about bringing one’s best self forward in every encounter?

I believe in some sort of power that is beyond our limited human experience. Most often, I don’t call this God; not because I take offense to the God-concept, but rather because it holds that image of the wizard in the Wizard of Oz- the man both in front of and behind the curtain who granted Dorothy her wish. This was the image I held of God when I was younger; an image that no longer fits. Still, I pray to something like God sometimes, particularly when I feel the need to apologize for not fulfilling my life. Lately, I have been wasting away (which is what it feels like) into bitterness. I KNOW BETTER, and yet I can’t seem to escape it.

So, for today, I vow to put my best self forward, to the very best of my ability. And I have tremendous empathy for all of those who feel stuck in life, particularly my sister, K.

A Wet-Saw Fetish?

My husband is downstairs using a vacuum. I find that this turns me on. I would, of course, much prefer the sound of a hammer, or better yet a wet-saw (my husband wouldn't know what that was), but over 20 + years, I've settled for being turned-on by a vacuum. I'm not sure if there is a lesson here. Maybe I need to learn to use that wet-saw myself; to accept that life doesn't always live up to our expectations and to learn how to accept it-- embrace it, even-- anyway, on its own terms; or to go out and find the guy with the tools, sandpaper, glass-blower, or guitar. For now, I have a guy who wields a vacuum, so I'm doing my best to embrace that.

Over and over again, my various spiritual mentors have told me that I hold too tightly to the pictures I have of what my desires should look like, and that in doing so I miss what is in right front of me. Thinking I want a hammer, I miss the beauty of the vacuum. This is about that elusive difference between resignation and surrender, which is intimately related to the difference between the form and energy of a thing (which, interestingly enough has something to do with those strange turn-ons we call fetishes). The energy of my turn-on has something to do with a guy in control, passionate about his craft. I tell myself I know what this looks like, because I have in fact seen it before, but in doing so I forget that this same energy can manifest in different ways- ways that surprise me. If my husband's craft is occassionally cleaning our home, so be it. Today, I try to embrace that sound that soothes colicky infants; a sound that reflects a home on its way to being clean; and a sound that means my husband loves me, because he is doing this housecleaning this morning for me.

And, right or wrong, I keep my ears open for the sound of that glassblower, musician, or craftsman with the saw.

Same as It Ever Was, Or Not

“And you may ask yourself-Well...How did I get here?” - Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime


I’ve been looking at my life lately, asking how the hell I got here. I’ve always sort of known what to do, where to go, what the next step would be. Until recently. Now I look around now and feel completely lost. How did I get here?

I’m a pretty talented person. Not a genius, by any stretch of the imagination, yet someone who most would choose to have on their team. I have common sense, an ability to think through problems, to distill the essence of things, notice the details, follow through, keep hold of the big picture, relate to others with compassion… not a bad resume of skill. And yet I feel as though I have no idea what to do with myself. And I think, how did this happen? How did I find myself in this place of lack? Lack of motivation, passion, desire, and knowledge about what I want from life or what it wants from me?

It seemingly happened all at once, outside of my awareness, and I think it has something to do with that midlife shift in perspective that most of us experience. For me, this has been a shift from my emphasis on a professional life to that of a more personal one. The shift itself has been a mandate; and not one that I dreamed up. Rather, it came from some OTHER place, not of me. As though I woke up one day with a gun to my head, whose trigger said- Shift perspective or else. Needless to say, this has been difficult to do. Although I could list many talents and skills that serve me well in professional roles, when it comes to my personal life, to my relationship with myself, I am lost. So I remind myself that there is water on the bottom of the ocean, and that there will always be. I can still count on some things, even as everything else disappears.

This midlife shift is what most think of as a midlife crisis. Unfortunately, the midlife crisis has been overly associated with the guy who buys the red sports car and the woman who starts dressing like her teenage daughter. Like much else in the world, we stick to a rather superficial explanation. I understand midlife crisis to be that moment in life when the Soul breaks through and demands something of us that often looks nothing like the life we’ve been living to date. The sports car is one way of answering this call, and it is a specific, often superficial, manifestation. For a long time, men in our culture have been asked to sacrifice themselves for the sake of family. Go to work, earn a living, know that you are ultimately responsible for taking financial care of others, bring the kids to baseball practice, walk the dog, and then take the garbage out before going to bed and waking up to do it all over again. The Soul of such a man may one day hold a gun to his head telling him to put himself first for a change—so he goes out and buys his new red vehicle. The sports car isn’t a great long term solution, but the attitude underneath may be the beginning of a much needed change.

Don’t get me wrong- a Soul Awakening or midlife crisis isn’t always about putting oneself first. In fact, I believe it is about finding our place within something much larger than ourselves. But the path to that something first winds along a connection with one’s own true desires, and therefore, one’s own true nature. The question Who Am I? becomes important again, on a whole new level than it was in adolescence. So when David Byrne warns that “you may tell yourself, ‘This is not my beautiful house!’ And [that] you may tell yourself ‘This is not my beautiful wife,’” he is in fact helping us to see that sometimes we wake-up, look around, and realize that the life we’re living is no longer our own. “My God, what have I done?” is a fairly common response. The midlife crisis starts, the Soul speaks, and we can consider ourselves on a path toward authenticity, if we’re brave enough to heed the call.